"Tel!"
Clark's voice was filled with suppressed anger.
He hadn't expected the guy's first words to be so hurtful.
Martha, however, wasn't angry.
She just paused for a moment, then withdrew her hand, a deeper smile gracing her face.
"Yes, I'm just an ordinary person, of course I'm weak."
She looked at Tel-Ro's face, which was filled with confusion and defiance, her tone as gentle as a spring breeze.
"But child, in this family, strength and weakness don't matter."
"Are you hungry?"
Martha's thoughts jumped quickly.
"I just baked an apple pie, and there's fresh milk too."
Tel-Ro's attention was instantly drawn to the word "eat."
He touched his still flat stomach.
The little he'd eaten at the Fortress of Solitude had long since been digested on the way here.
"I'm hungry."
He answered honestly.
"Then come in quickly."
Martha smiled, turned, and walked into the kitchen.
Clark breathed a sigh of relief, then glared fiercely at Tel-Ro, silently warning him with his lips:
"Behave!"
Tel-Ro pouted and followed him into the wooden house.
The furnishings inside were simple, even a bit old.
But it was very clean, exuding a warmth of home everywhere.
Tel-Ro looked around.
His nose twitched, catching the sweet scent in the air.
Soon, Martha brought out a huge apple pie and a large jug of milk, placing them on the dining table.
"Try it, child."
Tel-Ro didn't stand on ceremony.
He directly grabbed a large, still steaming piece of apple pie with his hand and stuffed it into his mouth.
The moment it entered his mouth, his eyes lit up.
Sweet, soft, and with a fresh fruity aroma.
It was completely different from the synthetic foods he had eaten before.
"Delicious!"
He praised indistinctly.
Then, his eating speed showed Clark and Martha what "sweeping like a storm" truly meant.
That large apple pie, enough for a family to eat for two days...
In less than three minutes...
It was gone.
He even scraped the crumbs from the plate with his fingers, licking it clean.
Then, he picked up the large jug of milk and tilted his head back to drink.
"Gulp, gulp..."
He drank like a cow that had been thirsty for three days.
After drinking, he let out a satisfied burp.
"Is there more?"
He looked at Martha expectantly.
Martha was already stunned.
She had lived for most of her life, and this was the first time she had seen a child who could eat so much.
Clark had a big appetite when he was little, but compared to this one, he was simply insignificant.
"Yes, yes..."
Martha came back to her senses and quickly ran back into the kitchen.
Clark held his forehead, feeling his head ache even more.
He had a premonition.
Kent Farm's food reserves were about to face their most severe test in history.
In the next half-day.
Tel-Ro, by himself, cleared out the Kent family's food reserves for the next week.
Martha had to make an urgent call to the town's supermarket, asking them to deliver a whole truckload of ingredients.
When Clark's adoptive father, Jonathan Kent, returned from the fields in his old pickup truck...
He saw his kitchen looking as if it had been robbed.
And the black-haired young man sitting at the dining table, with a mountain of empty plates piled in front of him.
"Clark, this is..."
Jonathan looked bewildered.
Clark could only brace himself and explain again.
Jonathan listened, then remained silent for a long time.
He walked up to Tel-Ro, and this weathered old farmer, with his wise eyes, carefully scrutinized the child from another world.
"Child, are you full?"
Jonathan's voice was steady.
"Mm, seven-tenths full."
Tel-Ro answered honestly.
Jonathan nodded.
"Since you've eaten our family's meal, you are our guest."
"In our family, there's a rule."
"Those who don't work, don't eat."
Tel-Ro was stunned.
"Work?"
"Yes, work."
Jonathan pointed out the window.
"Starting tomorrow, you'll follow Clark and help out in the fields."
"You can only eat when the work is done."
Clark immediately understood his father's intention.
This was an attempt to use farm work to expend Tel-Ro's boundless energy.
At the same time, it would also let him experience the simplest truth of "labor for food."
"Good idea, Dad."
Clark agreed, giving his old father a thumbs up.
Tel-Ro, however, was displeased.
"Work? What kind of work?"
"Why should I work?"
"Isn't it natural for me to eat when I'm hungry?"
Jonathan looked at him and smiled.
"Not here, it isn't."
He pointed to the empty plates on the table.
"Every bite of food you eat was grown from the soil by Martha and me with our sweat."
"If you want to keep eating, you have to work."
"That's the rule."
Tel-Ro frowned.
He didn't like the words "rules."
Clark also always had those two words on his lips.
But he looked at the empty kitchen, then touched his only seven-tenths full stomach.
Never mind, since he was already here.
"Fine."
"Work it is."
"But if the work is too boring, I'm not doing it."
The next day, early morning.
Before dawn, Tel-Ro was dragged out of bed by Clark.
"Come on, let's go fix the roof."
Clark handed him a hammer and a box of nails.
The tin roof on the east side of the farm had rusted and collapsed, and needed to be replaced.
Tel-Ro yawned and followed Clark to the fence.
He looked at the mostly ruined roof, then at the hammer in his hand.
"That's it?"
He looked impatient.
"This is so slow, when will it be fixed?"
After speaking, he threw the hammer and nails to the ground.
He flew up, laid out the new tin, and recalled how Clark and Kara used their heat vision.
Then, a red light flashed in his eyes.
Two incredibly precise beams of heat vision shot out from his eyes.
"Sizzle, sizzle—"
In less than ten seconds, the new tin was welded to the metal connections of the shed.
Clark stared dumbfounded at the scene before him.
"You... you can also use heat vision?"
"I'm a Kryptonian!"
Tel-Ro looked at him with a "are you stupid" expression.
"Just control the energy output, is it that hard?"
Clark: "..."
He felt insulted.
He had always thought Tel-Ro was different from him and Kara, but he hadn't expected... "Alright, it's fixed."
Tel-Ro clapped his hands.
"Can I eat now?"
Clark, with a dark face, pointed to the large cornfield next to them that needed to be tilled.
"Turn over that land."
"Oh."
Tel-Ro walked to the edge of the field.
He looked at the vast land, then at the old tractor next to it.
He shook his head.
"Too slow."
After speaking, he spread his feet slightly, sinking his body.
A white aura rose from him.
"Hah!"
He let out a low growl, pressing his hands fiercely on the ground.
He began to dig the soil with his hands, moving backward.
"Oh la oh la..."
In just two minutes.
That piece of land became as soft as a sandy beach.
Even the small stones in the ground were pulverized into powder.
Clark stood at the edge of the field, completely numb.
This... this is what he called tilling the land?
Tel-Ro withdrew his hands, and the aura dissipated with them.
He looked at his masterpiece, nodding with satisfaction.
"Done."
He turned his head to look at the petrified Clark.
"Now, can I finally eat?"