The next day.
Near Smallville River.
Officer Lyne stood by the withered marigolds on the bank, chain-smoking.
It was as if just one more cigarette could cure the oppressive feeling in his chest, allowing him to breathe a little easier.
But even after he finished the last one, the oppressive feeling didn't lessen by half.
Shaking his head, he tossed the cigarette butt and walked over to the coroner who was examining the body.
A body lay in the grass, its face grotesquely twisted.
The skin was cracked and aged, looking like a mummy's body with its bandages removed.
"Have you identified the deceased?"
Lyne asked his assistant.
"Preliminary identification: the deceased is Tang Hagerty, 12 years old."
"12 years old?"
Lyne looked at the shriveled body in disbelief, "How is that possible?"
The assistant handed him an evidence bag. "This is the ring from the deceased's hand. We had people familiar with the deceased identify it, and they confirmed this is the ring Tang Hagerty always wore."
Lyne stared at the prominent letters "D.B" on the ring, his heart filled with immense shock.
"Impossible!"
He crouched down, his gaze fixed on the strange corpse.
"It looks like he was drained."
A thought suddenly flashed through his mind: could Vampires really exist?
No, impossible!
Shaking his head, he cast this absurd thought from his mind and asked his assistant, "Who was the last person the deceased had contact with?"
"According to a few of his classmates, after they had a conflict with Clark Kent, the deceased rode his bike home alone."
"Who?"
Hearing Clark's name, Lyne paused, "You mean Clark Kent, Peter Patrick's godson?"
"Yes."
Is it Peter Patrick again?
Muttering Peter's name, his brows furrowed.
At this moment, Clark still didn't know that Tang Hagerty, with whom he had a conflict yesterday, had died.
He was currently at Patrick Farm, doing farm work to earn pocket money.
Mark held a flyer he'd picked up from who-knows-where, angrily crumpling it and throwing it to the ground.
Clark put down his pitchfork in surprise, then picked up the flyer.
It was a Christian flyer, disguised as a U.S. dollar bill.
Printed on it was a short story advising young people not to lose their ambition to trivial pursuits.
It said that playing online games like "Dungeons and Underground City" was like sucking the milk of hell from the devil's teats.
Clark threw the flyer away, his expression a little unnatural.
He knew why Mark was angry.
He probably thought it was a banknote, eagerly picked it up, and then realized he'd been tricked.
One should know, Mark was a little money-grubber, resorting to all means to earn pocket money.
"I don't believe this."
Mark put the weed wacker aside and said somewhat dejectedly, "Dad said he doesn't want us to become gods worshipped and hated by people. I hate gods!"
Clark's father, Jonathan, was a Christian believer, and he didn't dislike religion much. "God will bless every believer."
Mark used Peter's words to counter Clark, "Dad said: Christians always say there are 144,000 seats in heaven, but billions of people have died on God's green earth, yet he only likes 144,000 of them. God might be a simple-minded fellow."
Clark fell silent, listening to Mark's "rebellious" words.
Although he wanted to refute him, he couldn't find a suitable argument.
"Well, Godfather's words always have some truth."
He mumbled, and just as he was about to continue working, he noticed a Police car driving into the farm, and his parents also drove over.
Stopping what he was doing, he scratched his head in confusion, wondering what had happened.
A few minutes later, Clark and Mark stood nervously beside Peter.
Jonathan and Martha sat nearby, their faces solemn.
The Police left after asking only a few questions, but Jonathan and Martha were left in shock.
If the Police hadn't come to their door, they wouldn't have known that Clark had been in a fight yesterday.
Martha asked Peter, "Peter, you knew about this, right?"
She felt a little jealous; her son spent all his time at Peter's house, and even kept things from her, preferring to confide in Peter instead.
"Yes, I knew, but I don't think it's anything. Clark didn't fight back."
Peter gave the uneasy Clark a comforting look.
"But... Tang Hagerty is dead!"
"That was just an accident, and it has nothing to do with Clark."
Peter calmly added coffee to Martha's cup, "We can't blame Clark for an accidental mistake, can we?"
"I... I'm not blaming Clark. I just think..."
Martha looked at Clark and said helplessly, "Clark, you should have told us about this."
"Sorry, Mom, Dad."
Clark apologized to Martha and Jonathan.
Jonathan was more understanding; he stroked Clark's hair, "Did they hurt you? Clark."
"No, Dad."
"Hmm, you didn't fight back, right?"
"Yes, but I really wanted to beat those kids, beat them badly."
Hearing her son say this, Martha immediately stopped him, "Hey, Clark!"
"It's okay, Clark, I also wanted to beat them. I also want to encourage you to fight back. Would that make you feel better?"
Jonathan comforted Clark, "But you wouldn't do that, right?"
"Yes, I know, Dad, I know you want me to restrain myself."
Clark repeated to Martha and Jonathan what his godfather had told him yesterday.
After listening, the couple exchanged glances.
Jonathan looked at Peter with gratitude.
Although he had always disagreed with some of the educational philosophies of Peter, whom he regarded as a brother, he knew that Peter always understood and helped him.
This was also why he trusted Peter and always agreed to Clark staying here.
After Jonathan and Martha left, Mark asked Peter in confusion, "Dad, is Tang Hagerty really dead?"
He had wanted to give that guy a good thrashing, but he didn't expect him to just die.
Peter had already received a call from Chandler and knew about Tang Hagerty's Death and the situation at the scene.
"Yes, Tang Hagerty is dead."
"But... why? Dad, what happened?"
Clark, whose ears were perked, also leaned closer.
Although he had wanted to give Tang Hagerty a good beating yesterday, he was still quite bothered by his Death.
"I don't know, maybe it was just an accident."
Although he said that, Peter's expression became serious.
What could turn a living body into a dried corpse?