Chapter 1211: The Farm of Justice (Part 2) (Patreon)

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Before the massive tractor, the two young men's silhouettes appeared extremely small.

Clark and Bruce both looked up at the gigantic machine, Bruce covering the wound on his neck, lowering his head, and turning to look at Clark, saying, "Do we really have to drive this thing to town?"

"Yes, we have no other choice." Clark was unfazed, walking to the side of the vehicle to check the oil tank, and finding it insufficient, he brought over an oil can to refuel.

"Don't you have a normal family car?" Bruce asked tactfully, surveying the scene in the garage, which was cluttered with hay bales.

However, after experiencing the slums, Bruce had a general understanding of ordinary people's lives.

Clark's family was actually middle-class, even more stable and wealthy than the average middle-class family.

The Kent farm was enormous, with fields, pastures, forests, nature reserves, creeks, and a meat processing production line, which had been passed down for four generations, with a long history, stable output, and strong profitability, making it the leader of Smallville and a standout in all of Kansas.

Clark's father, Jonathan Kent, was a famous farmer in Kansas and a leader among farmers in southern Kansas, often going to the Kansas state legislature to fight for farmers' rights, and his words carried more weight than many legislators.

Clark's mother, Martha, was the vice president of the Kansas Women's Association, responsible for exchanging information on agricultural product prices, seasonal weather, and the timing of secondary crop production, and everyone trusted this lady.

If one were to describe the Kent family in slightly old-fashioned terms, they could be called the rural gentry of Kansas, stable, wealthy, and influential, far from being poor.

Bruce had imagined farm life before coming here, thinking that such a family should be quite wealthy, even if not as wealthy as the Wayne Family, but still comfortable and with plenty to spare.

However, after arriving here and at the farm, Bruce discovered that while the land was indeed spacious, with an abundance of pasture and feed, the living conditions were only barely passable, with a significant gap from being wealthy.

The entire Kent farm was a rectangular shape with one corner missing, built in an early era, so the Kent family's residence was a three-story stone villa, renovated several decades ago, with a U.S. countryside-style interior.

To the right of the villa was a steel-framed garage, built in recent years, with a granary, mill, and storage room on the left, facing the entrance to the pasture, with cowsheds, chicken coops, pigpens, and sheepfolds on both sides.

Bruce wasn't complaining about Clark's family not having a car, mainly because the row of garages gave him a misconception, making him think that each garage had a car parked inside, like each parking spot in his Batcave had a Batmobile.

It wasn't until Clark pulled Bruce's arm to help him board the tractor's passenger seat that he started the tractor and said, "Cars on the farm are just production tools, and they must be useful to have value."

"I know that many rich city kids like to buy many luxury cars and show them off in their garages, but many things on the farm rely on cash flow, and something bought must be put to use immediately, or even a slight delay might lead to not having enough money to buy seeds or pay the sheep shearing workers' wages."

Bruce nodded, feeling the vibration of the tractor beneath him, and only then did he begin to realize the severity of the issue.

As the tractor drove out of the garage onto the nearby cement road, the first muddy bump it encountered almost made Bruce's head hit the steel frame beside him.

"Be careful, hold on tight This thing prioritizes practicality, and might lack a bit of comfort." Clark said, grasping the steering wheel.

"You're a great journalist." Bruce held onto the handle beside him, looking at Clark.

The Kent farm was a distance from the town, with half of the road being a flat, paved highway, and the other half being a dirt road.

Driving on the dirt road was like being in a washing machine on high speed, with a strong push-back feeling and a sense of weightlessness.

Bruce was jolted to the point of feeling nauseous, struggling to stabilize his body's center of gravity while looking at Clark, saying, "Why did they only pave half of the road? Even a small town shouldn't be short of money for this, right?"

"The underground water table is too shallow, and the previous road would crack due to soaking during the rainy season, the town has tried many methods, and our family has also contributed money, but it's still unmanageable, so we can only endure."

Clark focused on driving, slowing down when he saw Bruce was uncomfortable, making the journey even more torturous.

Meanwhile, another problem was troubling Bruce, which was that it was too sunny here.

Kansas's sunlight wasn't particularly extreme, but it was definitely stronger than Gotham's, and Bruce, a native Gothamite, was like a vampire, discovering that he was no longer adapted to normal sunlight.

He squinted, covering his eyes with his hand, his eyebrows and eyes scrunched together, looking at Clark, saying, "Don't you feel the sun is too strong?"

Clark burst out laughing and said, "This is why they call us 'rednecks.' The farm is really sunny, and if you've seen Jonathan during planting season, you'd call him that too."

Bruce instinctively reached out to grab the hat on Clark's leg, but as he lifted it, a cat jumped out from underneath and bit his wrist.

"Get lost, this is my hat!" the cat, Bat Cat, yelled.

"No, little Bruce, don't do that. He's a patient, and we need to take care of him," Clark said, taking off his own hat and putting it on Bruce's head.

Bruce adjusted the hat's position, and Clark looked up at him, saying, "You were just about to say, 'I'll pay for the hat usage fee,' weren't you?"

"I didn't," Bruce immediately denied, turning his head away.

"You did, of course. Although I'm not Batman, I know how you think. When little Bruce first brought back a huge live fish from the creek, I knew you guys like to measure everything with material values."

"Wait a minute!" Bruce said. "There are fish in the creek by your house, so why do we need to buy fish?"

"Because none of us can catch fish, except for little Bruce. If you're not worried about cat slobber, we can eat fish again tomorrow."

"Forget it," Bruce shook his head.

The tractor finally drove onto the flat road, basking in the bright and radiant sunlight. The roadsides were lined with newly planted spring wheat and windbreak forests.

The tractor's engine roar turned into a springtime anthem, growing louder as the sun inclined.

Bruce suddenly turned his head, looking at Clark with his hat brim lowered, and asked, "Aren't you getting sunburned?"

"Sunlight is my energy," Clark said, operating the tractor. "Let me tell you a secret, but don't tell anyone else – my power comes from the sun."

Clark was about to turn his head to look at Bruce when he felt something extra on his head. He looked up to see that Bruce had put the straw hat back on his head.

Bruce withdrew his arm, squinting his eyes again. The scorching sun shone on his neck and shoulder wounds, making the subtle pain more intense, but at the same time, the blood flowing through those areas seemed to come back to life.

"I'll wear it halfway, and you wear it halfway. That's just right," Bruce said.

The scorching sun baked the air, making everything bright and hazy. When the tractor arrived at the town entrance, everyone was waving at Clark.

Clark was like a superstar, waving his left hand and nodding his right, completely unfazed by the contrast between the tractor he was driving and the family sedan next to it.

But Bruce looked a bit out of place, even nervous, glancing out the window at the car below and saying, "I think you should turn right a bit. You're going to hit their rearview mirror. No, no, slow down, turn right..."

"Don't be so nervous. This isn't Gotham, and there aren't that many traffic jams and rear-end collisions," Clark said, completely carefree.

Just as Bruce turned his head back to look forward, he saw another tractor approaching, and what surprised him even more was that it was a Lamborghini tractor.

As they passed by the tractor, Bruce's gaze almost couldn't leave it, and he had to acknowledge that the one they just passed was more impressive than the same brand's luxury car.

"Cool, right?" Clark smiled. "That's a rich person who came to our place to experience farm life. I know what you're thinking – who wouldn't want a Lamborghini tractor? Don't you want one?"

Bruce opened his mouth, about to say he didn't want one, but thinking about the tractor's domineering appearance, powerful shape, and smooth, beautiful lines, he couldn't say anything.

He thought Clark's tractor was already big enough, and the Kent family's tractor was a pretty good brand, looking like it was bought within the last two years, with all sorts of accessories and a strong industrial aesthetic.

But compared to the Lamborghini tractor, it seemed a bit lacking.

Bruce turned his head, looking at Clark from above his eyes, remembering what Clark said – that a car was just a tool, and it didn't need to be that good, as long as it was usable. But he still saw a hint of envy in Clark's eye contact.

No man wouldn't want a Lamborghini tractor, especially if it came with a loader and excavator. It would be crazy, and nothing could replace it.

The tractor finally arrived at the market entrance, and Clark introduced, "This is the largest market in Smoville, with agricultural products from around 20 farms in the surrounding area, as well as freshwater fish from the nearby river, and an old goods market over there."

Following Clark's finger, Bruce covered his eyes again, looking in that direction. The traditional market was bustling with people, mostly farmers from the surrounding areas, like Clark.

Clark parked the tractor, and Bruce looked around, realizing that driving a tractor wasn't that unusual. The parking lot had all sorts of agricultural vehicles, even a horse and two llamas.

After getting off the tractor, Clark dragged Bruce to the fresh market, managing to buy two extremely fresh live carp just before the fish vendors closed their stalls.

Because Clark still had to drive the tractor, he handed the live fish to Bruce, who also took it with ease.

Then, the carp suddenly jumped up and slapped Bruce's face.

[Read at www.patreon.com/shanefreak, and thanks for the invaluable support!]

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1212: The Farm of Justice (Three)