After riding a horse to send Lana back to the stables, Peter went to visit Jonathan's family.
"I heard about the Louis family, Peter."
Jonathan poured Peter a cup of coffee, "That was an accident no one wanted to see."
Martha sat beside her husband, quietly listening to their conversation.
Occasionally, she cast a glance at Peter.
Six years had passed, and Peter really hadn't changed a bit!
It was as if time had truly stopped for him.
As a woman, she was even a little envious of Peter's ability to retain his youth.
She would definitely ask Peter for his secret to maintenance another day.
Jonathan didn't know his wife was coveting Peter's secret; he asked Peter, "Are there any clues about the murderer who stole the corpse?"
"No, not yet."
Peter deliberately omitted the fact that Louis's wife was the suspect.
"This type of sleeve-style tomb is very simple; after the funeral ceremony, the coffin is lowered into the tomb, then the church usher brings two top covers, ties them together with wire, and places them over the tomb, so it's easy to pry open."
Peter said, taking a small sip of coffee.
He put down the cup and asked Jonathan, "Jonathan, have you heard of Deadman?"
"Deadman?"
Jonathan was stunned, "Are you talking about the Deadman in George Romero's movies?"
"Yes."
"I've seen many in movies."
Peter shook his head, "No, I mean in reality."
He suspected that the land contaminated by Kryptonite could resurrect the dead.
Otherwise, it couldn't explain why Vanessa would secretly bury her son there.
But the resurrection of Deadman, from any perspective, is bizarre and impossible.
Even if Kryptonite possesses magical abilities, it cannot bring a Deadman back to life.
At most, it can make the corpse stand up again, becoming a consciousless walking corpse.
So he wanted to ask Jonathan if there were similar legends in Smallville.
Once such a legend existed, it would prove that similar incidents had occurred in the town—someone had once buried a corpse in that land, and the deceased resurrected, which is why Vanessa, who witnessed it firsthand, believed it so deeply.
Of course, it's also possible that Vanessa is mentally ill, in which case all the above deductions would be overturned.
"I haven't seen any."
Jonathan thought Peter was joking with him, "Unless it's the zombie apocalypse."
Martha, who was beside them, said, "I have seen strange animals like 'walking corpses,' but they weren't humans."
Hearing his wife say that, Jonathan immediately cast a surprised look at her.
"Are you sure you're not joking, Martha?"
"Of course not."
Martha recalled, "Do you remember? Bill's family had a Plott hound."
"Of course, that hound was very fierce."
"It's like this: a month ago, I personally saw this hound hit by a car; the hound was already Deadman at the time, but strangely, half a month ago, I saw it again."
"Uh-huh, maybe it was rescued then."
Jonathan said noncommittally.
"But that hound became even more aggressive, and it emitted a strange stench."
Jonathan asked his wife, "So you think it became a 'walking corpse'?"
"I don't know; Peter mentioned walking corpses, and that's when I connected them, but it's also possible Old Bill got a new dog that looked exactly the same, who knows!"
Peter listened to Martha's words and nodded thoughtfully.
"That's Bill's house!"
Clark pointed to a house and said, "His family has a Plott dog, maybe—"
Clark, who was somewhat afraid of dogs, hesitated and said, "Maybe we can ask Godfather to help us get the kite."
Clark's eagle kite had fallen into Old Bill's yard.
Although he really wanted to go in and get it, the thought of the guard dog instantly made him a bit timid.
"We can't ask Dad for help with everything; I'm—Homelander! Nothing can hurt me, I can do whatever I want!"
Mark said confidently, with his hands on his hips.
Although he didn't understand why his dad would give him such a nickname.
But the name sounded cool.
He liked this nickname.
Casting a disdainful look at Clark, Mark stepped forward and walked towards Old Bill's house.
Bending down, the moment he picked up the kite, he noticed the door of the warehouse ahead suddenly opened a crack.
Mark, a bad feeling suddenly rising in his heart, squinted his eyes and took a step back.
"Bang!"
The next second, the warehouse door was violently slammed open.
A huge hound charged towards him.
"Shit!!"
Mark, imitating Peter, uttered a curse and immediately ran away.
Clark, waiting outside, suddenly heard a low growl.
Immediately following, to his shocked gaze, a hound rushed out behind Mark.
Seeing Mark being chased by the dog, Clark immediately ran away at top speed.
With disaster looming, Clark no longer cared about brotherly affection.
"Help!"
While running, Mark opened his mouth and called for help.
But there was no one around, only the "huffing and puffing" of the vicious dog chasing behind him.
Clark had originally run away, but hearing Mark's cry for help, he still mustered the courage to return.
Holding a stick, Clark shouted towards Mark, "Here, run this way, John!"
Mark saw Clark appear and immediately ran towards him.
"Whoosh!"
Swinging the stick, Clark swung it at the charging vicious dog.
Unexpectedly, the dog's movements were unusually agile; Clark missed, and instead fell to the ground himself.
The vicious dog ignored Clark and pounced towards Mark.
With a "thud," Mark, unstable on his feet, fell to the ground.
At the same time, the vicious dog also pounced.
In the nick of time, Mark used his hand to grab the vicious dog's neck, preventing its sharp teeth from biting him.
The foul smell emanating from its mouth almost made him faint.
Gritting his teeth, Mark gripped the vicious dog's neck with his hand.
The red light in his eyes also grew stronger and stronger.
"Ah!"
Finally, just as the vicious dog was about to bite him, the laser from Mark's eyes suddenly shot out.
The Heat Vision, emitting intense heat, directly passed through the vicious dog's neck.
The Heat Vision cut horizontally, and the vicious dog's neck was sliced through like butter by a hot knife.
The vicious dog, which had been ferocious, suddenly stopped moving.
"Plop!"
The vicious dog's head directly fell onto Mark's body.
Thick, foul-smelling black blood poured down like a waterfall.
Mark's small face was instantly covered in the dirty blood.
Clark stood up, and what he saw was the shocking scene before him.
Mark stood not far away, holding a dog's head in his hands, his face covered in dirty blood, and his entire body splattered with blood.
Mark, holding the dog's head, his face covered in dirty blood, showed Clark a smile that was uglier than crying.