Martha McDonald finally suppressed her inner fear and secretly opened a crack in the door to look outside.
Under the faint moonlight, she saw several bodies lying haphazardly on the ground.
The guy who had tried to assault her earlier was lying face down on the floor, blood gushing out.
The pungent smell of blood entered her nostrils, making her feel like vomiting.
She looked at her two unconscious best friends lying on the sofa and, after confirming they were unharmed, she let out a long sigh of relief.
With trembling hands, she fumbled in her best friend's pocket, pulled out a cell phone, and dialed the Police.
Ten minutes later.
The Police from Metropolis Police Department finally arrived.
"Name?"
"I am Martha McDonald, 22 years old, and I am a teacher."
Martha crossed her arms, her body trembling slightly as she replied to a female Police officer, "My friends and I were drinking at a bar, and I don't know why we woke up here."
The female Police officer nodded and continued to take her statement, "Did you see the suspect's face?"
Every bullet had precisely hit the vital parts of these gang members, and in the female Police officer's opinion, the killer was certainly not a simple person.
"No, he—"
Martha McDonald swallowed, "He was wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and because the night was too dark, I couldn't see clearly."
"Are you sure?"
The female Police officer looked at her suspiciously, "Just because he was wearing glasses, you couldn't see his face?"
"Yes, yes."
Martha McDonald nodded guiltily.
"Really, Godfather?"
At Patrick Farm, Clark, wearing the black-rimmed glasses Peter gave him, asked with some uncertainty, "If I wear these glasses, will people not recognize me?"
"Of course."
Peter adjusted the position of his glasses frame and said, "Glasses can help you hide your identity."
There is an age-old mystery about Superman, Clark—once Superman puts on his glasses, everyone doesn't recognize him.
So some people believe that Superman's greatest superpower is his glasses.
Peter naturally wouldn't believe the saying that "his greatest superpower is his glasses."
He believed more that "most of the public are face-blind to glasses."
"Godfather, why can glasses hide one's identity?"
Clark asked Peter, wearing his black-rimmed glasses.
"Because glasses reduce people's ability to identify strangers."
Peter decided to teach him, letting him adapt to his future superhero life in advance.
"You and Mark can use this prop, combined with small movements, to convey different messages, just like this."
Peter put on his black-rimmed glasses and adopted a slightly hunched, leaning forward posture.
After demonstrating the glasses posture, he took off his glasses, straightened his back, relaxed his shoulders, and adopted a calm, composed posture.
"Body language also conveys different messages, and it works even better with glasses. Have you learned it?"
Watching Peter skillfully switch between two different temperaments, Clark's eyes widened, feeling that his Godfather was like a magician, full of strange and incredible abilities.
He took the black-rimmed glasses from Peter's hand, determined to learn his Godfather's magical ability.
At least in the future, if he made a mistake outside, he could use this to escape.
Watching Clark excitedly leave the room with the black-rimmed glasses, Peter turned around, took out the money bag from under the bed, and placed it on the table with a thud.
The black money plundered from Frank's gang, about one million U.S. dollars, was enough to support him for a while.
After shooting down Frank and his gang members, he plundered their safe.
Besides cash, the safe also contained a ledger of transactions between Frank's gang and many important political figures.
Peter casually opened the ledger, and dirty transactions appeared before his eyes.
"Lolis, councilors, mayors, and churches..."
He shook his head and threw the ledger onto the table.
He didn't expect these guys to play such elaborate games.
If all these politicians and powerful people were dragged out and shot, probably none of them would be wronged.
However, this thing currently held no value for him.
Unless he wanted to run for governor tomorrow, he could use this as leverage.
After locking both the cash and the ledger in the drawer, he looked towards the swamp in the dark night.
He should be able to acquire ownership of that swamp tomorrow.
The next day, early morning.
Jonathan went to the town government office with Peter.
"Honestly, I don't understand why you're buying that dry swamp land."
Jonathan said to him, puzzled, "What crops do you plan to plant? If you have such a plan, Peter, that's not a good idea."
He sighed, "Farm product prices are falling, and now our income is increasingly insufficient to cover expenses. Martha and I are thinking of borrowing money from the bank."
"Those guys at the bank are a bunch of sharks."
Peter, who was driving, frowned slightly, "Jonathan, I still have some money here; you can use it for turnover."
"No, your farm isn't doing well right now either. I can't trouble you anymore."
Jonathan didn't know that Peter often went to Metropolis for "black-on-black" activities and thought he, like himself, relied entirely on the farm for income.
"I used to do other businesses, so I still have some savings, Jonathan."
"No, Peter, I know you want to help me, but I can't take your money. You still need to spend money to buy the swamp land."
Although Jonathan was very grateful that Peter was willing to help, he still refused.
"I can't take your money."
"You're always so stubborn, Jonathan."
Peter had long known the other party's temper, so he was not surprised by his refusal.
Jonathan's father-in-law also had some assets. If he asked his father-in-law, he could completely provide Clark with a higher quality of life.
Relieving the farm's financial problems would not be a big issue if his father-in-law helped.
But the stubborn Jonathan never contacted his father-in-law.
"Do you know why Clark likes to run over here? Because you set a standard for Clark, and that standard never changes, for example, not allowing him to watch TV for more than two hours, or not allowing him to be picky about food at all... Jonathan, sometimes being stubbornly unchangeable isn't a good thing."
Peter said while driving, "One should learn to be a fountain, not a drain; to be a leaf floating with the current in a stream, not a dam restricting their freedom. Am I right?"
Jonathan nodded thoughtfully, "Sometimes I do ignore Clark's thoughts, but, Peter, I still can't take your money."
Peter: Did I just talk for nothing?
Just as he was getting a headache from Jonathan's stubbornness, he suddenly noticed a crowd gathered on the street ahead, and several Police cars with flashing red lights parked by the roadside.
He stepped on the brakes and frowned, looking ahead.
What happened?
Thank you to "Mysterious Dandelion" for the reward, and thank you all for your votes, bow!