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Chapter 31 – Barry's Desperate Call, Lin Feng Takes Flight
The atmosphere inside the stealth fighter was tense, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Lin Feng's revelation about his resistance to kryptonite still lingered in the minds of the others. He had framed it casually—"You can think of me as a passer-by from another world. After this is over, I'll leave"—but the weight of those words struck Bruce deeply.
If Lin Feng were truly a Kryptonian who wasn't vulnerable to kryptonite and chose to stay on Earth, it would be a constant threat looming over the planet. Bruce Wayne knew himself too well. He would never be able to sleep soundly knowing someone like that was out there, unchecked. Clark had already proven how dangerous unchecked power could become. If kryptonite hadn't existed as a failsafe... Bruce didn't even want to finish that thought.
Diana sat quietly, her expression shadowed by concern. She had already begun mapping out battle formations in her head, wondering how they might restrain Clark without killing him.
Arthur Curry leaned back in his seat, absently spinning his trident. "Kryptonite, smyptonite... doesn't matter to me. Soon as this is over, I'm diving back to Atlantis to find Mera and make a few royal heirs. Surface problems can stay on the surface."
Before anyone could respond, a shrill beep-beep-beep pierced through the silence.
Victor Stone's cybernetic eye flickered as he whirled toward the console. "Incoming transmission!" He slammed a hand on the control panel. The beeping cut out—and then came the voice.
Crackling, breathless, on the verge of collapse.
"It's me! It's Barry!"
Bruce instantly stepped forward and enabled the speaker. "Barry, is that you?!"
"Thank God! I didn't think this would connect!" Barry Allen's voice cracked with fatigue and panic. "He's found me! Superman found me—I can't hold the mother box anymore! I'm too tired!"
The fighter cabin fell into a heavy hush.
Bruce's voice went low and serious. "Barry, listen to me. You have to hold on. We're coming for you."
"If that mother box falls into his hands—Blue Star is finished," Diana added gravely.
"How long?" Barry's voice was laced with desperation. "How long until you get here?!"
Victor checked the console. "Estimated arrival: 51 minutes, 37 seconds."
Bruce hesitated, then lied with all the conviction of a trained tactician. "Half an hour. Just hold on."
The silence on the other end lasted only a second before Barry exploded. "Half an hour?! Are you kidding me?! I—I can't outrun him for half an hour!"
As if to punctuate his words, a faint boom echoed through the transmission—followed by Barry's ragged breathing.
"He just blasted where I was! One more second and I'd be gone!" Barry sobbed, his voice breaking.
In the fighter, no one spoke. The reality was clear: Barry Allen was reaching his limit.
Lin Feng stood up.
"I'll go ahead," he said calmly.
The others looked at him, surprised.
"My flight speed is faster than the jet. Open the hatch. I'll intercept Superman before he catches Barry."
Bruce's eyes sharpened. "Are you sure you can reach him in time?"
Lin Feng nodded. "Tell Barry to run southeast. I'll meet him in the air."
Victor pulled up coordinates on the screen and confirmed Lin Feng's position. "At your current speed, you can reach him in less than five minutes."
Bruce didn't hesitate. "Go. And save both of them."
He pressed a comms headset into Lin Feng's palm. "Keep this on. We'll stay connected."
Lin Feng placed the earpiece in. With a quiet breath, he activated his combat suit—a sleek black material rippling into place with a shimmer of Kryptonian tech.
Bruce pulled the lever on the side hatch. The fighter trembled as the vacuum of the sky yanked open the airlock.
Then—boom.
Lin Feng vanished from the aircraft like a bullet from a god's rifle.
A sonic boom cracked across the clouds. All the others saw was a streak of black and silver tearing across the sky, and then—nothing.
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Inside the cockpit, Victor kept his eye on the monitor. "I've locked onto Lin Feng's beacon. He's closing in on Barry's signal—fast."
"Estimated time to intercept?" Diana asked, standing beside Bruce.
"Two minutes and thirty-eight seconds."
Bruce opened the communication link again. "Barry, do you read me?!"
A broken voice responded, "Still here... barely."
"Barry, listen. Lin Feng is en route. Two minutes out."
"Who the hell is Lin Feng?! Is this another one of your crazy Bat-contingency plans?!"
Bruce replied firmly, "He's our secret weapon. A Kryptonian with a difference. He can stop Clark."
Just then, Lin Feng's voice echoed through the channel, calm and steady even at Mach speeds. "Barry Allen, I'm coming for you. Just hold on a little longer."
Barry almost cried. "No way. You're real?! You're actually flying toward me right now?!"
"You bet," Lin Feng said. "Just two more minutes. Don't stop running. You're not alone."
Barry turned southeast, gritting his teeth. With renewed adrenaline, he forced his aching body back into motion, sparks of Speed Force trailing behind him.
In the cockpit, all eyes were on the screen—two signals, two beacons, converging fast.
Outside, the real world was much harsher.
Barry's lungs burned. His feet barely touched the ground now. Clark wasn't even trying to fly fast anymore—he was herding him. Playing with him. Every few seconds, another beam of heat vision carved into the landscape behind Barry, forcing him to swerve.
But then, disaster struck.
A blast struck Barry's ankle—not directly, but just enough.
Pain exploded through his leg. He screamed and tumbled forward, skidding along rocky terrain. When he stopped, his costume was torn and scorched. Blood poured from a raw wound where flesh had once covered bone.
"No... no, not now!"
He looked up—and saw the corrupted Superman descend like a devil from the sky, cloak fluttering, his glowing red eyes locked on Barry.
Clark landed with a thud, picked up the mother box, and looked down at Barry with something like pity... or maybe mockery.
Barry trembled, trying to reach for the box. "Please... don't..."
Clark's eyes burned brighter.
Then—
"HEY, BARRY! I SEE YOU!"
Like thunder from heaven, Lin Feng's voice rang through the headset.
And then—impact.
A black blur slammed into Clark's side with the force of a meteorite.
The corrupted Man of Steel was flung across the sky like a ragdoll, vanishing behind a hill with a sonic boom that split the clouds.
Barry blinked up at the sky, dazed.
He barely had time to register what happened before a firm hand lifted him from the ground—careful, steady.
"I've got you," Lin Feng said, setting Barry down gently.
With a flick of his hand, he tossed something to Barry—the mother box.
"He almost had it," Lin Feng said, scanning the distance. "But I got here in time."
Barry clutched the box like a lifeline. "You're real. You're really real."
"I told you I was coming."
Up ahead, dust clouds billowed.
Clark was coming back.
His red eyes glowing brighter than before.
But now—Lin Feng stood between him and the mother box.
And this time, Clark wasn't the only god on the battlefield.
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