Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who kill their fathers!

John glanced coldly at the exploded car, just about to turn away, when he saw Clark standing not far off.

The two exchanged glances, as if they were six years old again, with John using his heat vision to send Luthor Group's car crashing into a deep gorge.

However, unlike the last time, this time the two fake agents were not so lucky. The car exploded and burned them to ashes.

"John, you... you killed them?!" 

Clark asked in disbelief, "You killed two federal agents?"

After the two self-proclaimed federal agents left, Clark noticed something was off about John's expression, so he had been keeping an eye on him.

Once John left the school, Clark immediately followed him.

But now, it seemed that he was a step too late.

John, on the other hand, remained calm. "I told you before, Clark, they were not federal agents."

"That was just your guess."

Clark struggled to believe it, how John could so casually talk about killing two agents.

"My senses aren't wrong. Heartbeats, blood pressure, body temperature, tone of voice... I can always sense the difference, so I'm sure. They weren't police officers. They were impostors, and they were looking for Zatanna. They're probably connected to those gunmen who attacked her in the supermarket."

John explained his reasoning, took a deep breath, and continued, "They are not good people."

"But what if you're wrong?"

Clark was having trouble understanding John's mindset. "What if you're wrong?"

"Even if I'm wrong, I'm still right."

John raised his head. "Because I felt they were a threat to Dad's safety, that's why I had to take care of them."

"But they haven't threatened the godfather yet."

Clark said angrily, "It's all just your guess, and two people are dead because of it!"

"Stop being so naïve, Clark. There aren't many good people in this world. Haven't you figured that out yet? After everything we've been through—Father, Old Horace, the parasitic demon—you should understand how much disaster our abilities can bring into this world."

"You're just rationalizing!"

John grew impatient with Clark's stubbornness. "Clark, I swear to become Dad's spear. No matter who these guys are, if they pose a threat to Dad, I will eliminate them!"

"Even if they were real agents, knowing our secret and posing a threat to the godfather, you'd still kill them, right?"

"I never said that."

John shook his head. "I'm not a killer."

"Then why do you take death so lightly?"

Clark's forehead throbbed, trying to suppress his inner frustration and calm himself down, continuing to ask John, "How can you so easily watch people die in front of you?"

John stared at Clark, his lips twitching slightly.

Though he was also enraged by Clark's words, he managed to control his temper. "You don't have the right to say that, Clark. Don't forget, you almost brought down a whole plane full of people last time!"

Clark didn't expect John to bring up that incident again.

He paused for a moment, exhaled, and then explained, "You know that wasn't really me. My mind was being controlled by the other me inside my body."

"Maybe that was the real you, just like when a drunk driver crashes and kills someone, only to say it wasn't them when they were drunk."

John crossed his arms and took a step closer to Clark. "Stop making excuses. That's your true nature. Dad has always treated you like his own child, favored you since you were young, and now you want more."

"No! I don't!"

Clark took a step back.

"That's what you think, even if you don't realize it. I can feel it, you want more!"

John's tone grew more impatient, and he pushed Clark.

"Dad said your greatest ability is your natural sense of distinguishing right from wrong, but Clark, you can't even guarantee that you're an honest person."

"I won't become like you—hurting my family for what I believe is the right thing. Anyone who threatens Dad or the farm, I'll get rid of them!"

After saying that, John turned and walked to the side of the road. He glanced at the burning car at the bottom of the pit, then disappeared in a flash.

Clark stared at John, who had left with super speed. His clenched fist slowly relaxed.

He wanted to tell the godfather about this, but suddenly felt hesitant.

Even though he didn't believe John's actions were right, after hearing John's words, he became confused.

What if John was right?

John wanted to become the godfather's spear. From his perspective, it didn't seem wrong.

He sighed in frustration.

Podrick Farm.

Peter still didn't know John had helped him deal with two troublesome people.

He was on the phone with Chandler.

The other person had told him about the gunmen who attacked Zatanna at the supermarket.

"How is it, Mr. Podrick?"

Zatanna, waiting for Peter to hang up, approached him and asked.

"They're from a gang in Metropolis."

Peter asked the confused Zatanna, "Do you have any conflicts with this gang?"

"No, none!"

Zatanna quickly denied, "I've never known this gang, and I've never dealt with any gang members."

She furrowed her brow. "My father never mentioned anything like this to me."

Peter nodded and said, "Maybe they're just a tool, something you can dispose of at any time. Does your father's workshop have anything important in it?"

Zatanna thought for a moment, "Dad's workshop, I always thought it was just a regular room."

She remembered nothing particularly special about it.

"But I do remember a song."

Zatanna recalled the lyrics.

"~ There's a door in the room, and we all must go through it eventually, but don't go in too early."

"~ What's waiting behind that door? Loneliness, coldness, or the relentless darkness? What's waiting there?"

Once the person finished singing, Peter asked, "Is that the end?"

Zatanna blinked. "Yes, that's it."

"'What's waiting there?' Isn't there more to the lyrics?"

"No, that's it."

"Hmm, maybe the rest is something you'll need to explore."

Peter didn't pursue the question further.

He brought over a cup of coffee and handed it to her. "The key point is that you need to use the key in your hand to open that door."

"Open that door?"

Zatanna sat on the sofa, resting her chin on her hand, looking at the key in front of her.

"I haven't been home in a long time."

She thought about the morning, when her father was singing his breakfast song while making breakfast.

"Frying pans are great for eggs, and pancakes with syrup taste so good."

Every time this happened, she'd joke about how the lyrics didn't make any sense.

After getting up and going downstairs, she'd see her father setting up the dolls on the table, making the dining table a mess.

Taking a deep breath, Zatanna snapped out of her thoughts. She mimicked her father's old routine, placing the napkin over the coffee cup, then grabbing a corner of the napkin and chanting aloud, "Disappear, all of you!"

After finishing the incantation, she lifted the napkin, and the coffee had vanished.

"Clap! Clap! Clap!"

Peter clapped his hands. "Not bad, little Z."

Zatanna blushed as she looked at Peter clapping.

"Sir, you should have realized by now, this... this isn't magic, it's real magic."

"Mm-hmm, I know. But I've always thought magic was a form of magic too."

Peter said, walking toward the table and looking for something.

"Okay, you can't have hidden that cup of coffee in your sleeve. Can you tell me where you hid it?"

Zatanna chuckled at Peter. "Dad always said, magicians never reveal their tricks."

"That's a real shame."

Peter stood up, acting very regretful.

Zatanna looked at him and suddenly felt that Peter's image, in this moment, reminded her of her father.

When she'd made a card disappear, her father would pretend to be amazed and search everywhere for the missing card.

Zatanna paused for a moment, then asked Peter, "Mr. Podrick, are you Superman?"

"Superman?"

Peter asked, "What Superman?"

"Super strength, super speed, super vision, that kind of thing."

"Pretty much."

Zatanna grew even more curious and asked, "Then, sir, what can your eyes see?"

"Many things."

"Like what?"

"For example, I can see death."

"Death?"

"Yes, like when I'm talking to someone, I can see thirty-five thousand dead skin cells falling away. The end of life is happening constantly."

Zatanna listened to Peter's words and suddenly felt a sense of gloom.

"That must be a horrible feeling, seeing death all the time."

"It's actually not so bad."

Peter took a sip of his coffee. "I see them as burnt-out fireworks or stardust in the sky."

"That's kind of romantic."

Zatanna mumbled softly.

Late Night.

Zatanna lay in bed, rubbing the ears of her stuffed rabbit.

"Good night, Burks."

She said goodnight to the rabbit and hung the key on the stuffed animal.

As moonlight streamed in from the window, bathing the rabbit in light, its ears suddenly twitched, and under the moonlight, it transformed into a real rabbit.

...

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