"The Perseids are known as one of the World's top five meteor showers, and some even call them the most suitable meteor shower for observation throughout the year because they primarily appear in the Northern Hemisphere's summer, are very stable annually, and have a relatively large number of meteors."
On the TV screen, news about the meteor shower was playing.
Clark and Mark exchanged glances.
"Godfather seems to be paying special attention to meteor shower news lately," Clark whispered to Mark.
"I guess Dad wants to make a wish," Mark offered what he thought was a reasonable guess. "Too bad I can't get a monkey's paw, otherwise Dad wouldn't have to wish on a meteor shower."
Clark immediately fell silent when he heard Mark mention the monkey's paw.
He would rather never touch such an evil thing.
"John, the wishes granted by a monkey's paw are all twisted. Godfather said they only bring people loathsome happiness."
Mark shrugged indifferently. "I think it doesn't matter. Wishes definitely come with a price. How can there be unprovoked gifts in this World?"
Clark frowned, thinking Mark's point of view was wrong.
But for a moment, he couldn't think of how to refute him.
Peter didn't notice the two mischievous boys discussing wishing on a meteor shower; he continued to watch the news on TV.
"The peak of the Perseids will occur from the evening of the 12th to the early morning of the 13th, when 50 to 60 meteors will explode in the night sky. Experts predict that the smoke threat from the Kansas wildfires may cause some trouble for observation."
"Although most of the Midwest is cloud-free, the smoke from burning wildfires across the region will create haze, affecting the visibility of the meteor shower."
After hearing that the wildfires would affect the visibility of the meteors, Peter's brows furrowed slightly.
He looked down at his wristwatch; the hands were already infinitely close to completing a full circle.
Today was the 10th, so the day the second baby was due was probably the day after tomorrow.
After staring at the TV screen for a moment, he looked at the clock on the wall.
It was already 10 PM.
Standing up, he put the matter of the meteor shower aside and said to the two mischievous boys who were still debating: "Alright, it's very late. Clark, John, you should go to bed."
"Dad, can you tell me a bedtime story?" Mark asked expectantly.
"Me too," Clark immediately chimed in, not wanting to be left behind, stating that he also wanted to hear a bedtime story.
"No, Clark, I brought it up first. You should wait your turn," Mark said unhappily.
"This isn't a competition."
Seeing the two start arguing again, Peter had no choice but to intervene: "Don't argue, you two can listen together."
In Mark's room, Clark and Mark lay on the bed, their eyes looking expectantly at Peter.
Peter picked up a book at random and asked, "So, what story do you want to hear tonight?"
Mark immediately said impatiently, "Gypsy or Native American stories, Dad, have you heard their stories?"
Ever since he wandered around Ms. Nancy's fortune-telling shop, he had been quite interested in the stories of these indigenous people.
"I've heard some," Peter put the storybook aside. "Are you sure you want to hear them?"
"Yes, we're sure," Clark nodded, saying he was also quite interested in such stories.
"Have you heard the story of the Wooden Chief?" Peter coughed and asked the two.
"No," the two said in unison.
"Alright, this is a story from a long time ago. The story takes place in a small town similar to Smallville. In the town, there was an old man named Ray, who owned a shop. This shop used to be the center of the prosperous town, but as the town became deserted, the shop gradually became unnoticed."
Peter said in a mysterious tone, "There was a wooden statue at the entrance of his shop, a Wooden Chief."
"One day, a Native American—Benjamin—came to find Ray. He represented his tribe and brought a bag of priceless jewels as collateral for the money Ray had lent them over the years."
"What happened then?" Mark asked impatiently.
"Later, Benjamin's nephew—Sam—came to Ray's convenience store with two accomplices, killed Mr. and Mrs. Ray, and stole the bag of jewels."
"The old Wooden Chief outside the door knew all this was happening. To avenge Mr. and Mrs. Ray, the old Wooden Chief came back to life. After painting himself with war paint, he went to the homes of the three bad guys and began his revenge."
As the subsequent revenge scenes were not suitable for children, Peter only briefly described them.
"At the end of the story, the old Wooden Chief returned to the convenience store and transformed back into a wooden carving, guarding the shop."
After listening, Mark and Clark had different expressions.
After a while, Mark asked with a face full of curiosity, "Dad, do Native American wooden statues really come to life? Do they use Black Magic?"
"I don't know," Peter shook his head. "Maybe it's not Black Magic, but just the emotions of Mr. and Mrs. Ray driving the Wooden Chief to come to life."
"Godfather, I think so too," Clark nodded, agreeing with Peter. "Greed can always control people's fragile emotions, but I think the most precious things are mutual promises and selfless, genuine affection."
After hearing this story, Clark suddenly knew how to refute Mark's remarks about the monkey's paw.
Peter looked at Clark in surprise upon hearing this.
This kid is so young, yet he can say such insightful things?
Lost in thought, he looked at Mark.
Speaking of which, should he let Mark read Nietzsche too?
At the same time.
At the construction site of the Luther Group Industrial Park, where Chief White had visited during the day.
The security guard was about to refuel his pickup truck when he suddenly heard rustling sounds from the nearby bushes.
Hearing the strange noise, he immediately put down the fuel can and sharply turned around.
A Black Shadow seemed to flash in the grass in the shadows, and a strange aura emanated.
"Damn it!"
With a bad premonition in his heart, he immediately ran towards the pickup truck.
He opened the car door with a "bang," fumbled to retrieve the toolbox, and then took out a handgun from it.
Desperately suppressing the fear in his heart, he loaded the bullets.
After doing all that, he quickly jumped out of the car and looked towards the bushes.
He saw a huge, snow-White wolf standing in front of him, its eyes glowing as it stared at him.
The terrified security guard dared not move; the aura emanating from the giant wolf seemed to freeze the blood in his entire body.
A moment later, he forcibly suppressed the fear in his heart, took a deep breath, and focused his attention on the gun in his hand.