Chapter Forty-Two: I Am a Demon Too
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Peter still did not know that his “merman” had already fallen into Homelander’s hands and was being used against Clark.
At that moment, he was in Old Hori’s house, watching as the man opened the safe.
Old Hori displayed the stacks of bright green dollars and the jewelry to Peter. “This is everything I’ve stolen, but you can’t take it.”
Peter frowned. “Why not? Mr. Hori, I think you’ve misunderstood something. This was mine to begin with.”
The Luthor family bank in Smallville had long since been regarded by Peter as his own prize.
Naturally, all the money inside belonged to him as well.
Old Hori froze when he heard Peter claim that the money was his.
Was there really someone in the world this shameless?
After composing himself, he said to Peter, “I could use this money to accomplish many things. Together, we could change this despicable world.”
“The law is regarded by the powerful as a tool for enslaving us. Bankers use those tools to exploit our hard-earned money—people like Lex Luthor and his ilk. They destroy our homes and seize our savings. If we have the ability to change these rules, why shouldn’t we do it together?”
Old Hori passionately voiced his convictions.
After spending decades in prison and being given a new lease on life, he was eager to make something of himself.
Peter, however, had no interest in his grand ambitions.
He shook his head. “You make yourself sound like the savior of the world, Mr. Hori.”
Old Hori replied, “Yes, I want to be a savior. But I’m also a devil, Mr. Padrick. You’re a devil too. We’re the same kind of people, so why can’t we work together?”
Peter stared at Old Hori in surprise.
He had not expected the old man to be so adept at delivering lofty speeches.
A villain like you ought to be making a name for himself in Gotham. Why hide away in a small town and settle for being a security guard?
After giving a cough, Peter banished his chaotic thoughts and said to Old Hori, “You’re right, Mr. Hori. You’re a devil, and so am I. Neither of us minds being a devil—though naturally, I mind it even less than you do.”
He continued in a calm voice, “But I’m past that stage.”
Old Hori asked in confusion, “What stage?”
“Pretending you’ve been wronged and abused. Treating yourself like a victim, like some hysterical debutante convinced the whole world is conspiring against her.”
Having finished expressing his contempt, Peter stepped forward.
He seized the unprepared Old Hori by the throat and lifted him into the air.
“Ghk... ghk!”
Dangling helplessly, Old Hori struggled with all his might, emitting a series of garbled sounds.
“It’s a shame... you almost persuaded me just now. Do you know why you failed?”
“Wh—why?”
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Old Hori’s eyes were bloodshot as he forced the word from his throat with the last of his strength.
“Because you’re black.”
With a sharp crack, Peter twisted the man’s neck.
Thud!
Old Hori collapsed, dying with his eyes still open, carrying his resentment and indignation toward the “racist” with him to the grave.
After killing him, Peter exhaled and looked out at the night sky.
The rain that had fallen all night seemed to be easing.
...
Inside an abandoned factory, Jonathan and Martha sat bound hand and foot, desperately searching for a way out.
“I’m sorry, Martha. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have been so stubborn.”
Jonathan was filled with regret.
He should have agreed to go to Peter’s house. If he had, they would never have been kidnapped by this monster.
Not only had he failed to protect Clark, but he had also dragged his wife into danger.
Just as Martha was about to comfort him, they suddenly heard footsteps outside.
Jonathan and Martha assumed it was Hori and held their breath nervously.
Creak!
The iron door swung open, and a figure slowly entered.
“I found you.”
The familiar voice made the couple freeze.
“Pe—Peter?”
Martha stared in astonishment at Peter as he appeared before her and began untying her ropes.
“What? Are you surprised to see me, Martha?”
“No... I just... I didn’t expect you to appear here, Peter. Why?”
Peter freed Martha, then walked over to Jonathan, who was equally stunned.
“It’s a long story, but I think we should leave first.”
...
Amid the soft patter of rain, Peter drove Jonathan and Martha toward Padrick Farm.
“Peter, I... Martha and I don’t know how to thank you.”
After hearing Peter briefly explain how he had received Hori’s letter and come alone to rescue them, Jonathan thanked him with a mixture of guilt and gratitude.
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“No need to be so formal. I’m Clark’s godfather. We’re family, aren’t we?”
Peter said this to Martha, who sat beside him with reddened eyes, equally moved.
“Yes. We’re family.”
Martha replied with a smile.
She was reminded of what had happened between Peter and her at the Walmart six years ago.
Back then, Peter had risked everything to save both her and Clark in exactly the same way.
Before she could say anything more, the car arrived at Padrick Farm.
After opening the door and stepping out, Martha was stunned by the sight before her. The farm looked as though it had been bombarded.
Peter also climbed out of the car and stared at the farm in shock. His first thought was that the American government had bombed his property with missiles.
The ground was a complete mess, riddled with pits and craters. Rain had soaked the freshly turned earth, filling the air with a heavy, earthy stench.
Sections of the fence around the farm lay scattered across the ground.
Not far away, the barn wall had been smashed open by something, with broken wooden beams strewn across the surrounding area.
Only half of the living-room door remained, standing forlornly in the darkness.
Through the ruined doorway, the wreckage inside was faintly visible.
The sofa, dining table, and staircase had all suffered damage. Their battered appearance spoke plainly of the violence they had endured.
“Oh my God!”
Martha covered her mouth in disbelief.
“No! Clark!”
She suddenly remembered that Clark was still inside the farmhouse and immediately hurried toward the living room.
Peter followed, his face grim.
Martha rushed into the room as if she had gone mad, only to hear words from Clark that nearly made her stumble.
“No! Martha is my mother! My godfather is my biological father! I’ve always known! You have laser eyes, Homelander. You’re nothing like my godfather!”
Because of the kryptonite-radiated fish, Clark had collapsed on the floor and was unable to stand. Even so, he glared at Homelander and gasped out the words.
Furious, Homelander was about to clamp a hand over his mouth when he suddenly heard a voice behind him that froze his blood.
“Homelander...”
Peter’s voice sounded as though it had risen from the depths of hell.
Homelander stopped where he stood, afraid to move.
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