That's truly surprising, Mr. Luther. Although your reputation isn't the best, you've certainly changed my impression of you today.
Peter re-examined the entrepreneur with the less-than-stellar reputation.
Of course, he wouldn't believe this guy was some good person dedicated to charity.
"People in Smallville might have some misunderstandings about me."
Leno Luther smiled and shrugged.
After speaking with him for a few moments, Peter saw Clark and Mark waving to him and said to Leno, "Excuse me, I must take my leave for a moment."
Leno smiled and stepped aside, watching Peter walk over to the two children.
"Sir."
A subordinate approached him and asked, "Should we temporarily halt our chemical plant project? This would be a significant loss for us."
"Yes, temporarily halt it."
His gaze deepened slightly. "Because—I've discovered something even more valuable."
He had already investigated and found that the one who wielded the katana to kill the zombies that night was Peter Patrick.
"Destroy all relevant video footage from the scene, then get the public relations department to act. Unify the narrative: the attackers at the scene were merely Terrorists who had lost their minds. I don't want to see any mention of zombies."
He issued the command to his subordinate.
On the other side.
Peter walked over to Clark and Mark and asked them, "What's wrong?"
"Clark needs to use the restroom."
"Are you nervous?"
Leading Clark by the hand towards the restroom, Peter asked him.
Clark exhaled, somewhat absentmindedly saying, "I don't know. Just now, I saw Mom shaking hands and hugging those strangers. Their tears soaked their collars and sleeves, and there was a strong floral scent throughout the room. I had a little trouble breathing, Godfather."
"I counted in my head, they said 'he wasn't hurt, he died quickly' about thirty-two times, and 'God works in mysterious ways' twenty-five times, Godfather."
Clark looked up and asked Peter, "Why do people always repeat the same things?"
Peter looked at Clark with some surprise.
He hadn't expected this kid to be so melancholic and sensitive.
He truly had the potential to become a Holy Mother!
After some thought, he said to Clark, "Because every repeated word makes those who have lost loved ones a little stronger."
"Oh."
Clark nodded.
After the funeral, Peter drove Clark and Mark home.
Perhaps influenced by the funeral atmosphere, Clark was a bit down.
Mark, however, wasn't enveloped by the Shadow of Death at the funeral. He asked Peter, "Dad, why did Uncle Louis turn into a zombie?"
He was clearly more interested in zombies.
"Because Louis and Vanessa did something wrong. In their excessive grief, they wanted to revive their son, so they made a wish to the devil, and as a result, they were punished."
Peter tried to explain in a way they could understand.
"I know."
Clark, who was sitting in the back seat, suddenly said, "Just like Old White in 'The Monkey's Paw,' they made a mistake because of their grief."
"Grief is no excuse for foolishness, Clark. Although there's a difference between the two, it's a matter of life and Death."
As Peter spoke, he thought of the dried-up marshland.
That land, polluted by Kryptonite, still held its magical power.
How should he deal with this land?
Perhaps he could find the mayor, purchase the ownership of that land, and prohibit anyone from entering.
He might need the marshland in the future.
Thinking of this, he decided to purchase the land.
After driving home, Peter checked his savings.
The average price of land in the United States is $4,100 per acre, which means if you want to own 1,000 acres of land, you will need to pay approximately $4.7 million.
Land in Kansas is relatively cheaper, only costing about $3,500 per acre.
The marshland covers about 100 acres, so if he wanted to buy it, he would need to prepare $350,000.
He looked at the bank card in his hand, his brow furrowed.
Although he had robbed many gangs in Metropolis, his expenses were also high due to the two mischievous children.
Now, the balance in his bank card was no more than $200,000.
"It seems I'll have to go to Metropolis for some 'stock'."
Taking a deep breath, Peter put the bank card away.
Clark and Mark could temporarily be looked after by Neil. If all went well, he could resolve it in one night.
But before that, he needed to make some preparations.
"Dad."
Just as he was planning to go 'black-on-black' in Metropolis, Mark came over.
"What's wrong?"
"I want to hear a story."
Mark also expressed that he wanted to hear a bedtime story.
"Alright, what story do you want to hear? Seven Dwarves, or The Little Mermaid?"
"Dad."
Mark pouted, "I'm not Clark. I'm not interested in such childish stories."
"Oh?"
Peter looked at him in surprise, "Then what do you want to hear about?"
"About zombies."
"You're still a child; it's not suitable for you to be exposed to these things."
Peter immediately refused his request.
This kid's taste was even heavier than his own.
After being refused, Mark became a bit dejected.
"Your birthday is in a few days, Mark. Maybe you can look forward to this."
Seeing his mood was a bit low, Peter changed the subject and brought up Mark's upcoming birthday.
As soon as he heard about his birthday, Mark's mood immediately soared.
"Can I make a request, Dad, about my birthday present?"
"It's best not to. Birthdays are full of surprises."
Peter said to him, "A birthday almost means infinite possibilities. A colorful jar full of candy, a toy box overturned on the floor—these could all be surprises."
Mark's eyes immediately lit up, but soon he remembered something else and asked Peter, "Dad, when is your birthday?"
"My birthday?"
Peter was stunned when Mark asked about his birthday.
When was his birthday?
He no longer remembered.
After transmigrating to this World, was his birthday his previous life's birthday, his original body's birthday, or the day he transmigrated to this World?
"Dad has already passed the stage of celebrating birthdays."
"Why?"
Mark asked curiously.
Touching Mark's head, he slowly said:
"Because only as you gradually grow up will you realize that each birthday is actually like a turnstile. It takes you farther and deeper, and suddenly one day, birthdays become irrelevant to possibility and completely turn into an unavoidable event."
Peter coughed, feeling he had said too much, and patted Mark's head, "It's too late, you should go upstairs to sleep."