Chapter 1213: The Farm of Justice (4) (Patreon)

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Bruce was not someone who enjoyed the process of eating; he thought that eating was just a step to satisfy human survival needs, and the pleasure of taste might lead to overindulgence.

Therefore, his daily diet was very regular and tended to be light and simple, which meant dishes with little flavor and a focus on protein.

However, this eating habit was not something he was born with. His mother, Martha, although from a prominent family in Gotham, the Kaine Family, was also an excellent cook.

After Martha's passing, Bruce's diet became even simpler, mainly because he considered Alfred's age and didn't want to hire another chef, so when Alfred asked him what he wanted to eat, he would only reply, "Just something simple."

It was undeniable that Clark's mother, Martha, was an excellent cook, as the Kent family was a farming family and needed a lot of physical strength to work on the farm, which required a lot of heat energy. Therefore, there was a lot of meat on the table, and perhaps because of the frequent handling of meat, her skills were very refined.

The fish cakes were made by marinating the fish, deboning it, and then mixing it with a certain proportion of chicken paste and chopped onions, and then wrapping it in a pastry crust. The resulting cakes were full of rich soup.

The Kent family's secret recipe for roasted chicken and meat rolls used the same seasoning formula, which completely eliminated any possible meaty smell, and the cooking time was just right, not too raw or too cooked.

The other dishes were also at a level comparable to those in ordinary restaurants, with balanced flavors and a warm, inviting aroma. Humans were naturally drawn to such food, and Bruce was no exception.

When he came to his senses, he realized he had already eaten two large fish cakes, a whole chicken leg and wing, five or six meat rolls, countless vegetable salads, and a large bowl of pea soup. Although it didn't seem like a lot, Martha's cooking was generous with ingredients, and this had far exceeded Bruce's usual appetite.

What was even more frightening was that Bruce didn't feel full, because the variety of dishes was rich, and the flavors blended together. He would take a bite of this and then a bite of that, and before he knew it, he had eaten a lot.

"It seems we won't have a quiet day anymore. The whole town will gather around my house, watching the richest man in the world struggle to do farm work."

But Clark just laughed and shook his head, looking at Bruce and saying, "Do you think you're strong and agile, and can fight, so you can definitely do these things?"

Bruce thought he could immediately go out with Clark, but Clark first searched for keys on a wooden board nailed to the wall, saying, "Let me see... which key is for the sheep pen?... Oh, and we need to bring the house key too."

Bruce looked down at the things in his arms, realizing that the coat was for keeping warm at night, the gloves were for handling livestock, the umbrella was for rain, the hat and mask were for hygiene, the rake was for clearing grass, and the crowbar was for digging up roots.

Bruce stood at the door, feeling his stomach working hard, an organ that had never been so diligent, to the point that his heart felt surprised and sent a lot of blood flowing to his stomach, making Bruce feel tired and sluggish.

"I'm not the kind of young master who can't tell wheat from tares," Bruce also shook his head, looking very disapproving, and said, "Even if I don't have experience, I can learn quickly."

Clark supported his arm, preventing him from losing his balance and falling, and pointed ahead, saying, "Be careful, we need to walk along the creek."

Bruce looked up at the distant farm, where there were rolling hills, windbreak forests, ancient warehouses, and windmills, and in the farthest distance, a starry sky.

Seeing the disappointment on Martha's face, Bruce felt a strong sense of guilt, which was alleviated when Martha brought out two large plates of hot apple pies and ten or so muffins.

Bruce used the rake as a cane, walking forward one step at a time on the slightly damp muddy road at night, saying, "If you write this up as a report, it will be more sensational than a meteorite falling here."

The scent and sound of early summer evenings are rich and astonishing, with the gentle breeze whispering to everyone that the soil and plants truly have a fragrance. The insects that emerge early from the soil seem to be making a faint sound, like a gradual tempo in a symphony.

The apple pie, still warm from the oven, has an intense sweetness, but it's clear that the sweetness doesn't come from sugar or honey, but from the natural fructose of the apples themselves. This dessert is extremely sweet.

Bruce also got dressed in his farming attire, and the two of them, looking like perfect farmers, exchanged a glance. Clark was the first to burst out laughing: "If others knew I brought Bruce Wayne to do farm work, they would go crazy!"

Jonathan, who was washing dishes, turned around and said, "You can take your friend to see the lambs and calves in the sheepfold. During the time you're working, our big family has added three new little friends. They must be at their most adorable, fluffy stage, and can cure all the illnesses in the world."

Bruce turned his head to look, and saw a starry sky closer by, with the gentle stream reflecting the faint light, shining brighter than the stars. A reed forest was swaying in the wind not far away.

The texture of the ripe apple was a bit strange, like chewing on a sour sponge, but the perfect crispness of the surface made up for the texture's shortcomings. Bruce took a bite, and the intense sweetness rushed straight to his brain.

Then, they started searching the whole house for gloves, finally finding two pairs of rubber gloves under the coffee table next to the sofa, and handed one pair to Bruce.

Clark understood his father's hint, that he was a very perceptive educator, like he could read minds. In the short time he had interacted with Bruce, he immediately sensed that Bruce's mental state wasn't great, and proposed a plan he thought would be effective, such as going to see the newly born animals.

"Are we just going out for a stroll?" Bruce asked uncertainly.

"This is really not a challenge for you," Clark said, checking the keys on his keychain. "It's clear you're eager to prove you're not the stereotypical rich kid, but we don't need more animal detectives here."

Clark was devouring an entire apple pie, and when he heard Bruce's suggestion, he sadly put down his food, stood up from his seat, and walked to the table, waving to Martha.

Bruce pulled his leg out of the muddy pit, and the two of them walked a short distance, arriving at a nearby barn. The land here was drier, but they could still see animal footprints. Clark looked down at the ground and said, "When I was a kid, every time we walked this path, Jonathan would bet with me about which animals these footprints belonged to. It's actually not easy to distinguish, right?"

"When the cycle of experiencing whether something is correct or not is one year, you'll discover that a person's life isn't that long. We're only equivalent to 80 or 90 cycles of winter wheat, and the accidents that can happen on a farm are far more than 80 or 90 kinds."

After a long search, Clark held two sets of keys in his hand, then started looking for outerwear, giving Bruce a thick, heavy coat, and finding one for himself.

Bruce was really having a hard time keeping a straight face. He should have thought of it earlier - the so-called dessert after dinner must also be full of farmhouse flavor. Here, no one would make high-end commercial street-style finger cakes; all the dishes were rich and sumptuous.

"Uh, do you mean going out for a stroll? Around here, going out means checking the chicken coop, collecting eggs, counting the sheep in the sheepfold, checking the cow's nose rings, and in case of rain the next day, distributing the pasture to each enclosure, securing the enclosure doors, and going to the grazing area to open up the grass roots, checking the pasture growth, and deciding whether to supplement seeds..."

The starry sky in Gotham was never so bright, shining like all the stars were right in front of his eyes. The moist air stuck to his eyelashes, and when he blinked, he could even see the starlight reflected, as if the starry sky was reaching out to wipe away his tears.

Just as Bruce was staring straight at the night sky, he suddenly felt a surge of power from under his feet. He looked down and found himself stuck in a muddy pit mixed with water and soil.

"When I first started farming with my dad, I thought the same, but the fact is, after more than a decade, I still haven't learned half of his skills... not even a tenth of my grandfather's."

Clark handed Bruce a pitchfork, looking at him with a puzzled expression. "What are you standing there for? Hurry up and change!"

"I'm not clumsy," Bruce said immediately.

The sweetness of fruit is the most primitive dopamine catalyst, and the fragrance of carbohydrates is a source of joy engraved in human genes. Before Bruce could react, a palm-sized apple pie had already disappeared.

"This is a chicken's footprint, that's a cow's, and the grass nearby is a pig's. I didn't find any sheep's footprints - don't they live here?" Bruce said, pointing to the ground with the pitchfork.

Looking at the muffin cake presented to him again, Bruce was flustered and quickly finished eating, wiping his mouth, and saying to Clark, "I ate a bit too much. Let's go for a walk."

He looked at Clark, who was already fully dressed, thinking that there was no image more like a farmer than this.

Then, he started searching the whole house for rain boots, an umbrella, a hat, and a mask, finally pulling out a crowbar and a pitchfork from the backyard.

Bruce looked at Martha with his most sincere gaze and said, "Thank you, ma'am, but I'm really full."

Clark smiled and pushed open the barn door, walking in, with Bruce following behind. Clark said as he walked, "Our animal detective, Bat Cat, has been fighting animal crimes throughout the farm, with a focus on mice that steal food, roosters that peck at their own kind, and birds that steal seeds."

"You can just say it's here for a buffet."

"Exactly right."

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

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Next Chapter>>Chapter 1214: The Farm of Justice (5)