Chapter Nineteen: So the Godfather Is a Superman!

After the blast of flame, Peter slowly lowered his arms. Contrary to what Homelander and the others had imagined, his skin was not scorched; there was not a single mark on him.

"Dad?!" Homelander stared at Peter in shock. He finally understood why he possessed laser vision—he had inherited his father's superpowers! Homelander gazed at Peter with adoration, determined to be just as cool as his father one day. Poor Homelander had no idea that his adoption was already an open secret among Peter's social circle.

Clark, meanwhile, watched his godfather with heavy, labored breathing. So, his godfather was Superman! Recently, Clark’s vision and hearing had suddenly surged, and he had noticed his own durability increasing as well. Just the other day at the farm, he had accidentally stuck his hand into a rotating harvester, yet he had emerged completely unscathed. This realization, which had previously troubled him, suddenly sparked a different thought in his mind. If his godfather’s body was strong enough to withstand an explosion, could it be that he was actually his godfather’s true son, and Homelander was the one who had been adopted? Having learned the meaning of biological versus adopted children, Clark began to wonder if he and Homelander had been swapped at the hospital.

"Boom!" Another burst of flame erupted, and the heat wave of the explosion washed over them. Peter, unable to spare time for the stray zombies, scooped up Homelander, sheathed his katana, and sprinted toward safety.

***

"Oh my god! Thank goodness, you’re all right, Lana." Seeing Lana walking toward her, Nell, who had been blocked from entering by the raging fire, rushed over and scooped her up. She kissed Lana’s face in relief, trembling with emotion. "Thank god, Lana. I was so terrified. I truly didn't know what I would do if I lost you."

Looking at her aunt, who was on the verge of tears, Lana consoled her sensibly, "I’m fine, Aunt Nell."

"How did you get out, Lana?" Nell asked, checking her over for any injuries.

"It was Uncle Patrick," Lana said, looking off into the distance.

The flames were as bright and dazzling as the midday sun, illuminating the entire street. Many cars were speeding toward the scene, and people in various nightgowns and pajamas were running through the streets. She saw a man standing on the steps of the police station, his hands cupped around his mouth, shouting something.

The piercing wail of police sirens, the alarm of fire engines, and the roar of the inferno seemed to swallow every other sound in town. Lana’s gaze searched the flames and the crowd for Peter, but after a long while, she could not find him. Exhaling, a wave of youthful melancholy washed over her.

***

In the dark woods, Father Norman stood before an altar of blood, holding a grimoire of black magic. "Damn it! Damn it all!" The undead bound within the book were losing their connection to him one by one, and he began to panic. Beads of sweat dripped from his brow.

According to the black magic book, if he wanted to obtain the magical power to cure his lung cancer, he had to sacrifice more living souls. This was why he had used the undead to wreak havoc at the auditorium. The more people who died, the more effective the sacrifice. The initial stages had gone smoothly, with many people falling to the undead. Just as he was using his dark magic to command these reanimated creatures to withdraw, he never expected to lose contact with all of them. These were undead creatures he had meticulously cultivated, and losing them all at once was excruciating. More importantly, if these corpses fell into the hands of the government, it would surely cause massive trouble.

"Swish! Swish! Swish!" Just as he attempted to use magic to reconnect with the undead, he heard a strange sound in the forest.

"Who's there?!" Norman, on high alert, shouted into the woods.

"It’s me, Father Norman." A familiar voice replied.

Norman looked up toward the entrance of the forest. Under the dim moonlight, the faces of the newcomers gradually became clear.

"Peter?" Norman stared in surprise at the sudden appearance of Peter, flanked by Clark and Homelander. "Why... why are you here?"

"That’s a question I should be asking you, Father Norman." Peter looked toward the blood-drenched altar. "Father, as a man of the cloth, wouldn't such behavior be considered a blasphemy against the Lord?"

Norman feigned ignorance. "I am... I am performing a ritual of spiritual purification."

"By sacrificing the lives of others?" Peter took a step forward and reached out to grab the black magic book from Norman’s hand. Norman tried to block him, but was slapped aside with a single strike.

Peter held the black magic book and flipped it open to a random page. "Undead? So, Father Norman, you were the one who told the grieving families that the dead could be brought back to life, luring them into burying their loved ones in that swamp, weren't you?"

Norman, his teeth loosened by the slap, stared at Peter in shock. "Who... who exactly are you?" He never imagined that a seemingly ordinary farmer would possess such incredible power.

Peter did not answer. He continued, "My cousin Louis lost little Terry. His wife was inconsolable, so she fell for your deception and buried Terry’s body in that swamp. One night, little Terry returned from the dead. But what she didn't know was that every reversal of fate has a price. She wanted to defy death, but it was like placing a coin on a train track and expecting to stop a high-speed locomotive."

Watching the man, Peter narrowed his eyes. "Little Terry, under your control, murdered Louis and his wife, turning them into zombies. These undead creatures you commanded launched this massacre tonight, didn't they?"

Norman stood up and said with bitter resentment, "Yes! I controlled these undead to attack the people because I wanted to change my fate! I have lung cancer, and to cure my illness, I need to sacrifice them!"

Beside them, Clark was stunned by his godfather’s words. He had thought the characters in *The Monkey's Paw* only existed in stories. How could someone truly harm others so wantonly for their own greed? Clark’s fists tightened.

Homelander, listening to the dialogue between his father and Norman, didn't show any anger. Regardless of what this guy had done, it didn't matter anymore; he knew his father was here to finish him off.

"I have devoutly served the Lord for half my life, and this is how He treats His followers?" Norman said bitterly. "I have witnessed all sorts of human misfortune, and I have seen with my own eyes how fate toys with their lives. Since everyone’s life is just a donkey cart racing toward a cliff, then let us all fall into the abyss of darkness together!"

With that, he prepared to cast a spell to kill Peter and his group. The next second, Peter lunged toward him.

"Crack!" A crisp sound echoed as Norman’s neck was snapped instantly.