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

"What's the terrifying thing?"

Azu glanced at the visibly uneasy Clark.

"Did the school bus fall into the river with Mr. Jonathan, and you didn't know who to save first, leaving you in a terrifying dilemma?"

"No, of course not."

Clark shot Azu a glare. "When Ms. Nancy held my hand earlier, I had a flashback-like vision. It disappeared quickly, but I saw it."

"What was it, Clark?"

"I saw Ms. Kelly, you, me, and Godfather—we had all fallen. Around us was pitch-black darkness, everything so blurry... Then, a warm, white light illuminated the night."

At the Podrick Farm, Clark relayed the vision he had seen at Ms. Nancy's place to Peter.

"Godfather, it wasn't clear, but it felt real. I'm scared," Clark said with a helpless gaze, looking at Peter. "Is it real? Ms. Nancy claims she can commune with spirits. Does that mean what I saw will come true?"

"No, it's not real, Clark."

Peter's voice was low, soothing. "Just because Ms. Nancy claims she can divine your fate doesn't mean what you saw is your destiny."

A melancholic aura seemed to surround Clark.

"But, Godfather, there's a book I read that described destiny as a massive roller coaster. Everyone is strapped tightly to their seats, unable to get off early. On the ride, people experience highs and lows, sharp turns, and long straight stretches. They scream, tense up, and fear, but in the end, it always gently rolls to a stop at the finish line."

"Destiny determines everything we go through. The hand of destiny governs all things in the world."

He looked up at Peter and asked, "Godfather, is that true? Is destiny fixed?"

Peter was taken aback by Clark's words.

He hadn't expected this kid to turn into such a philosopher.

"Clark, destiny can't shackle you."

He met the boy's gaze. "Remember what we discussed? Facing your choices without fear is how you take charge of your destiny."

"I know, Godfather. I'm just scared… scared of losing you all."

"No, of course not," Peter reassured him, his expression growing more serious.

These so-called "Gypsy" people were definitely up to no good.

"She's not a Gypsy!"

...

In the backyard, Kelly, dressed in a tight tank top with her hair tied back, pulled an arrow from the quiver on her back and aimed at a target across the yard.

After a few days at the farm, her restless nature had surfaced, and she had set up an archery range in the backyard.

Swish!

The arrow hit the target dead center. Kelly flicked her braid over her shoulder, wiped the sweat off her forehead, and checked on Star-Lord, seated in a child's chair nearby.

"Also, she's not Native American. She's just a Mexican drifter who ended up here long ago. My grandfather told me about her."

Peter nodded, glancing at Star-Lord, who was gleefully waving his little hands in the stroller.

His brows furrowed slightly. "Star-Lord is getting way too chubby."

He worried that this kid wouldn't need to grow up to reach his past life's status as "Fat Lord."

The mere thought of a plump Star-Lord awkwardly dancing in front of a crowd gave Peter a headache.

"You need to control his weight, Kelly."

Kelly looked aggrieved. "I've never stuffed him with food! I've followed Mrs. Neil's instructions to prepare scientific meals for him."

"Well, it seems the nutrition is too rich."

Kelly wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Maybe this little guy is just a piglet—growing fast and eating more."

"Oh, by the way, my grandfather wants to meet you."

Kelly continued, "He wants to thank you. Because of your intervention, Lionel Luthor stopped building his industrial park, and the murals in the underground caves were preserved."

"No need to thank me. I'm also very interested in those murals."

Peter picked up Star-Lord, realizing the little guy had grown even heavier.

Growing so fast—he really might be a piglet.

Previously, Peter had visited Lionel's estate to discuss this matter.

Lionel had readily agreed to halt the construction project.

Although nothing had been explicitly stated, it was clear Peter now owed the man a favor.

"Honestly…"

Kelly hesitated before asking, "Peter, are you really an Earthling, or are you an alien?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because that night, you easily dragged the spaceship into the barn cellar. And Clark and John—they fell from a hundred feet without a scratch."

Kelly looked at Peter with a complicated expression. "Clark and Azu are chosen by destiny too, aren't they? They fell from the fire rain, right?"

"No!"

Peter shook his head. "Clark is the Kent family's child."

"What about Azu?"

"Azu is different."

Peter was about to explain when Kelly took a deep breath. "I know, Peter. You must also be one of those destined ones who came from the fire rain years ago, right?"

Listening to her baseless speculations, Peter remained silent.

Reverse the heavens? How had he turned into his own son?

"No, you're wrong. I'm a generation older than them."

Before he could elaborate, he felt a sudden chill on his chest.

Looking down at Star-Lord, he realized the kid had peed on him.

Seeing Peter's clumsy reaction, Kelly hurried over and took Star-Lord from his hands.

"I really wonder how you managed to raise John before."

Peter: "…"

...

That evening, Kelly's grandfather, Chief Joseph, visited the farm as planned.

At the dinner table, the old chief enthusiastically shared a story with everyone.

"Legend has it that a man descended from the fire rain and fell in love with a woman we called the Mother of the Tribe. They had children, and that's how our Kawachi tribe began."

Peter set down his knife and fork, asking, "Mr. Joseph, do you know where he came from?"

"I don't know. The oral tradition doesn't have many details. Some say he came from another world; others believe he came from another planet."

Peter nodded, finding the story rather far-fetched.

"Sir, do your statues ever come to life?"

Azu asked curiously from the side.

"No, they don't have such powers. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been used as firewood," Joseph said, taking a sip of wine before turning to Kelly.

His granddaughter seemed to be enjoying the dinner, smiling as she alternated between looking at Peter and listening to the conversation.

The chief squinted, suddenly feeling that daughters really do grow up and drift away.

"You're not a local, are you, Peter?"

He suddenly asked.

...

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