Chapter 81: Have You Heard the Story of the Wooden Chief?

"According to reports, the Perseid meteor shower is listed as one of the five major meteor showers in the world. Some even call it the best meteor shower to observe throughout the year. This is because it occurs during the summer in the Northern Hemisphere, is highly stable, and has a high number of meteors," announced the news anchor on the television screen.

Clark and Azu exchanged a glance.

"It seems like Godfather has been particularly interested in meteor showers recently," Clark whispered to Azu.

"I bet Dad wants to make a wish," Azu guessed confidently. "Too bad I can't get my hands on a monkey's paw. Otherwise, Dad wouldn't have to rely on a meteor shower to make a wish."

Hearing the mention of a monkey's paw, Clark immediately fell silent.

Such a cursed object was something he never wanted to touch.

"John, monkey's paw wishes always twist your intent. Godfather said they bring nothing but wretched happiness to people," Clark remarked seriously.

Azu shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't see the problem. Wishes always come with a price. There's no such thing as a free gift in this world, is there?"

Clark furrowed his brows, feeling that Azu's view was wrong but unable to come up with a counterargument immediately.

Meanwhile, Peter wasn't paying attention to the two kids' debate about wishing on meteor showers. His focus remained on the television.

"The peak of the Perseid meteor shower is expected to occur on the night of the 12th through the early morning of the 13th. Experts predict 50 to 60 meteors will light up the night sky. However, the wildfires in Kansas may pose visibility issues for stargazers," the news anchor continued.

"Although most of the Midwest will have clear skies, the haze from wildfires across the region may reduce visibility for the meteor shower."

Hearing that the wildfires might affect the visibility of the meteors, Peter frowned slightly.

He glanced down at his wristwatch, its hands nearing the top of the hour.

It was the 10th today, meaning the arrival of the second baby would likely be the day after tomorrow.

After staring at the television screen for a moment, he turned to look at the clock on the wall. It was already 10:00 PM.

Peter stood up, setting aside thoughts of the meteor shower, and addressed the two still-bickering children: "Alright, it's late. Clark, John, you two should get to bed."

"Dad, can you tell me a bedtime story?" Azu asked expectantly.

"I want one too!" Clark chimed in, not wanting to be left out.

"No, Clark! I asked first, so you need to wait your turn," Azu grumbled.

"It's not a competition," Clark retorted.

Seeing the two about to start arguing again, Peter sighed in exasperation. "Don't fight. I can tell you both a story together."

In Azu's room, the two boys lay in bed, their eyes full of anticipation as they looked at Peter.

Peter picked up a book at random and asked, "So, what kind of story do you want to hear tonight?"

"Something about gypsies or Native Americans!" Azu blurted out eagerly. "Dad, have you ever heard their stories?"

Ever since wandering into Madam Nancy's fortune-telling booth, he'd taken a keen interest in indigenous folklore.

"I've heard a few," Peter said, setting the storybook aside. "Are you sure that's what you want to hear?"

"Absolutely!" Clark nodded enthusiastically, clearly intrigued by the idea as well.

"Alright, have you ever heard the story of the Wooden Chief?" Peter asked, clearing his throat.

"No," both boys replied in unison.

"Very well. It's a tale from long ago, set in a small town much like Smallville. In this town, there was an old man named Ray who owned a store. This store used to be the heart of the once-thriving town, but as the town fell into decline, the store too became neglected," Peter began in a mysterious tone.

"At the entrance of the store stood a wooden statue of a Native American chief. It was just a wooden carving—or so it seemed."

"One day, an Indigenous man named Benjamin came to see Ray. On behalf of his tribe, he brought a pouch of priceless jewels as collateral for the money they had borrowed over the years."

"And then what happened?" Azu asked impatiently.

"Well," Peter continued, "Benjamin's nephew, Sam, along with two accomplices, came to the store later. They killed Ray and his wife, and stole the pouch of jewels."

"The wooden chief standing outside the store saw everything. Determined to avenge Ray and his wife, the wooden chief came to life. He painted himself with war paint and set out to bring justice to the three criminals."

Since the revenge scenes were too gruesome for children, Peter skimmed over the details.

"In the end, the Wooden Chief returned to the store, transformed back into a statue, and continued to stand guard over the shop," Peter concluded.

Azu and Clark had very different reactions to the story.

After a moment of processing, Azu asked curiously, "Dad, can Native American wooden statues really come to life? Do they use black magic?"

"I don't know," Peter replied with a shrug. "Maybe it wasn't black magic at all. Perhaps it was the emotions of Ray and his wife that gave life to the Wooden Chief."

"I think so too," Clark agreed, nodding. "Greed always preys on the weaknesses of the human heart. But the most valuable things are the promises we keep to each other and the pure, selfless emotions we share."

Peter was taken aback by Clark's insightful response.

This kid is so young and already capable of such profound thoughts? he mused, then turned his gaze toward Azu.

Should I let Azu read Nietzsche, too?

Meanwhile, at the construction site of LuthorCorp Industrial Park, where Chief White Day had visited earlier in the day...

A security guard was about to refuel his pickup truck when he heard a rustling sound from the nearby bushes.

Startled, he set the fuel canister down and turned sharply toward the noise.

A shadow seemed to dart through the underbrush, and an eerie, oppressive aura filled the air.

"Damn it!"

Feeling an ominous chill, the guard ran toward his pickup truck.

With a loud "bang," he threw open the door, fumbling frantically through the toolbox before pulling out a handgun.

Suppressing his rising fear, he loaded the gun, chambered a round, and stepped out of the truck.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he directed his gaze toward the bushes.

To his shock, a massive, snow-white wolf emerged, its glowing eyes fixed on him with an unyielding intensity.

Paralyzed by fear, the guard couldn't move. The wolf's overwhelming presence seemed to freeze the very blood in his veins.

After a moment of suffocating silence, the guard forced himself to push past his terror. He took a deep breath, trying to focus all his attention on the gun in his trembling hands.