"Dad?"
John turned his head nervously, only to be met with Peter's sharp gaze and the Martian Manhunter standing beside him, arms crossed, watching the scene like an amused bystander.
His initial plan to reprimand Clark instantly vanished.
The anger on his face disappeared in an instant, replaced by an innocent and harmless expression.
"Dad, Clark went crazy!"
"What?!"
When Peter first entered the room and saw the mess, he assumed these two troublemakers had been up to their usual antics, just like last time when they nearly tore the house apart. He was about to scold them when John's words caught him off guard.
He gave John a skeptical look. "What did you say?"
"Clark attacked me out of nowhere! He pushed me to the ground," John immediately played the victim card. "And he used a lot of strength. If I didn't have a body as strong as yours, Dad, I might have been sent straight to the hospital!"
With an innocent tone, John described Clark's "assault" while conveniently leaving out the part where he had provoked him.
"Then, I just gave him a tiny little counterattack and used my heat vision to send him flying."
"Really?"
Peter turned to look outside the room, where Clark was just now getting up from the ground, rubbing his head in confusion.
Clark seemed dazed, as if he wasn't entirely sure how he ended up there. A burning pain lingered in his chest.
Still massaging his head, he walked back into the living room.
When he noticed Peter's sharp gaze on him, he froze.
"Clark, John says you attacked him just now. Is that true?" Peter asked.
"I..."
Clark glanced at John, who was putting on his best innocent face, and tried to recall what had happened.
His memory was a bit hazy. He vaguely remembered talking to John about Lana, then suddenly losing control of his emotions and pushing John.
Wait—Lana!
His eyes darted to where Lana had been sitting earlier, but she was gone.
"I… I don't really remember what happened," Clark admitted, his expression guilty. "I'm sorry, Godfather. I shouldn't have acted so impulsively. I think my emotions got out of control for a moment."
Then, he turned to John. "Sorry, John. I shouldn't have pushed you first."
Seeing that Clark seemed confused, John let out a silent sigh of relief.
Good—he could push all the blame onto Clark and avoid any punishment.
Peter glanced at the damaged floor and the hole in the wall, feeling his forehead twitch in frustration.
He had just finished repairing the house, and in the blink of an eye, these two little troublemakers had wrecked it again.
Was this what the system had arranged for him? A life filled with endless headaches, ensuring he never had a moment of peace?!
Taking a deep breath, Peter forced himself to calm down. Then, his suspicious gaze landed on John.
He knew his eldest son all too well.
That brat? There was no way Clark had pushed him for no reason.
At that moment, Star-Lord walked down the stairs, his expression complicated.
Peter turned to him. "Star-Lord, is what John said true?"
"I was upstairs just now. I only saw the aftermath of the fight when I came down, Dad, so I don't know exactly what happened," Star-Lord explained carefully. "But I did see Clark push John first."
He simply stated what he had witnessed.
That didn't mean he believed John's words so easily.
In fact, he was shocked by John's masterful ability to switch faces and lie without even blushing.
Just a second ago, John had been gritting his teeth, ready to fight Clark. The next, he was looking up at Dad with big, pitiful eyes.
The sudden shift reminded Star-Lord of politicians giving speeches on TV.
Dad always said those people were born liars.
If John ever decided to go into politics, he'd probably be a natural.
Too bad… Star-Lord didn't have that skill himself.
With a bunch of random thoughts swirling in his mind, he made a mental note to stay on guard against John.
If that guy ever used this trick against him in front of Dad, he'd be doomed.
After mentally labeling John as "scheming," Star-Lord looked up at Peter and said, "Dad, Lana was here earlier, but after the fight between John and Clark, she left."
"Lana?"
Peter frowned.
Did these brats really get into a fight because of Lana?
Fighting over a girl?
His gaze swept over John and Clark in disappointment.
Really? This is what you two have come to?
"Why was Lana here?" he asked Clark.
Clark scratched his head. "Lana said she wanted to visit, so I brought her to the farm."
Hearing Peter's tone soften slightly, John finally felt relieved.
Seizing the chance, he quickly added, "Dad, Clark said Lana was acting strange today."
"Strange how?"
Clark hesitated for a moment when he saw Peter's gaze shift back to him. "I don't know… but she didn't seem like herself."
"Hmm."
Peter stroked his chin thoughtfully.
He recalled the last time he was at the Talon Club, when he had accidentally seen a mark on Lana's arm—one that looked eerily similar to the symbol on Ms. Katie when she had been possessed.
Could Lana be possessed by a witch too? Was that why Clark had acted so strangely earlier?
Peter considered the possibility.
His thoughts were interrupted when he glanced at the chaotic mess in the living room and let out a long sigh.
"Alright, Clark, John," Peter said, looking at the two anxious boys with a serious expression. "Since you both messed up, you'll have to be punished."
"W-what kind of punishment?" Clark asked nervously.
"A week's allowance will be deducted, and half of your farm work wages will also be docked."
He looked at the two and said, "Now, go upstairs and sleep."
"Oh."
The two hung their heads, looking dejected as they trudged upstairs.
John, in particular, was especially miserable—losing money felt worse than death.
He would rather take a beating!
After the troublemakers and Star-Lord went upstairs, Peter let out a helpless sigh and turned to the Martian Manhunter beside him. "The frequency at which I have to repair my house is getting faster and faster. If I were just an ordinary farmer without savings, I'd probably be on the verge of bankruptcy by now."
The Martian Manhunter glanced at the damaged floor and chuckled. "I agree. In fact, I suspect that once the kids on your farm grow up and more come, that frequency will become a daily occurrence."
Peter countered, "I'm not even married yet, J'onn. There's no guarantee I'll have kids."
"I have no doubt about your ability to adopt children," J'onn said, amused. "Whether it's John or Star-Lord, neither of them are ordinary. The next time you suddenly show up with a glowing child in your arms, I wouldn't even be surprised."
"The glowing one is Jesus, J'onn."
"Even if you carried him in, I wouldn't be too shocked."
Peter: "..."
The Next Morning
Clark came downstairs, looking miserable. He hadn't slept well all night because of what had happened with Lana.
Downstairs, John sat on the couch, deep in thought, his expression heavy.
Peter, who had been waiting in the living room, stood up as Clark descended the stairs. "Let's go, John, Clark."
Clark hesitated. "Where to, Godfather?"
"You'll find out when we get there."
Meanwhile, at the Neal Ranch
Lana was busy in her room.
Various medieval alchemy tools were scattered across the space—bottles and jars cluttered the table, strange materials were piled in the corners, and the air was thick with the scent of herbs.
She stared at a container heating over a flame and absently picked up a notebook beside her.
"Mushroom oil, toad skin... next, two strands of a virgin's hair."
Reading the instructions, she plucked a strand of her own hair and dropped it into the container.
"One more..."
She flipped to the next page of her notebook and retrieved a golden hair sandwiched between the sheets.
This golden hair had been plucked yesterday—straight from the head of her teacher, Martha McDonald.
"Huh. Who would've thought Miss Martha was still a virgin?"
She muttered to herself before tossing the golden strand into the mixture.
The potion she was brewing was a magical one.
Once completed, it would allow her to summon the souls of two other witches.
As she worked, she absently glanced up—only to see a car pulling up outside the ranch.
Peter, John, and Clark stepped out of the vehicle.
Seeing Peter's arrival, Lana was stunned.
She hadn't expected him to show up at her home.
Thud!
The car door closed as Peter led the other two onto the ranch.
Clark looked around, puzzled. "Godfather, is this our destination?"
He didn't understand why Peter had brought him to Aunt Neal's house.
"Yes."
Peter knocked on the door, and Neal came forward to open it.
"Peter?"
"Sorry, Neal, I didn't call ahead."
Neal hadn't expected Peter to visit, but she was pleasantly surprised. "You're not exactly the kind of man who follows rules. Come in—John, Clark, you too."
Being more familiar with Peter, Neal immediately welcomed the three of them inside.
"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Juice?"
"No, no need for formalities, Neal."
As Peter declined, he asked, "Is Lana here?"
He had come to check whether Lana had been possessed by a witch.
After what happened with Katie, he had experience in dealing with these situations—he could tell if Lana was under supernatural influence.
"Lana?" Neal hesitated.
"Yes. Clark and John got into a fight yesterday, and she might have been frightened. I just wanted to check on her."
Peter's expression was sincere.
"Uncle Podrick."
Before Neal could respond, a voice came from the top of the stairs.
"Thank you for coming to see me. I'm fine."
Lana gracefully descended, wearing a black floral dress and holding a notebook in her hand. She smiled, exuding confidence.
Clark, watching her, suddenly felt a little gloomy.
Why did Lana look at Peter so differently than she looked at him?