"You!"
Horace coughed violently, looking at Peter in shock.
He could never have imagined that this man possessed powers similar to his own.
"In a way," Peter said, looking down at Horace, who was kneeling on the ground and gasping for air, "the chest is an excellent target—especially when your opponent isn't trained. There's a lot of nerves here. Boxers strengthen this area to be as solid as armor, but for amateurs, it's the most effective spot to strike."
As a boxing enthusiast, Peter shared some fighting knowledge with him.
Feeling belittled, Horace suppressed the pain in his chest and lunged at Peter with super speed.
To an ordinary person, Horace's speed would appear lightning-fast, but to Peter, it was as slow as a snail.
The Kryptonite-radiated "Mermaid" had given Horace superhuman abilities, but compared to Peter, whose strength was continually enhanced by his watch, this speed was nothing.
Peter blocked Horace's attack, hitting his jaw and then quickly following up with a left punch.
With a loud bang, Horace flew backward like a cannonball.
He crashed into a column, snapping it, and skidded into a factory building, tearing down walls and scattering steel pipes that rolled and clattered, burying him underneath.
Just as Peter worried that he might have hit too hard and killed Horace, the debris suddenly exploded. Horace, furious and battered, lunged at Peter once more.
With torn clothes and bruised all over, Horace put all his strength into a punch aimed at Peter.
Thud!
In the next moment, Peter caught his wrist, and with his left hand in a knife shape, he struck Horace's throat.
The fierce Horace immediately dropped to his knees, struggling to breathe.
His face turned red, his eyes bulging.
"This is the mastoid muscle. It protects the windpipe. Hitting here can cause choking or vomiting. In a fight, vomiting can limit movement, inducing panic in the body and giving the attacker a huge advantage."
Gasping, Horace finally regained his composure, forcing down the nausea.
"Why... do you have to keep explaining all this?"
"Because I want you to feel fear," Peter replied. "If you beat a dog senselessly, it grows fearful of everyone and weakens in spirit."
Peter looked down at him. "Now, where are Jonathan and Martha?"
"They're…"
Before Horace could finish, Peter punched him under his arm.
"The armpit is also packed with nerves."
"Damn! Do you want me to talk or not?"
"Just making sure you're focused. Now, Mr. Horace, where did you hide Martha and Jonathan?"
Finally terrified and humiliated, Horace reluctantly revealed their location.
"You're the guy who robbed Luther's bank and jewelry store, aren't you?"
Once Peter confirmed that the Kent couple was safe for now, he continued questioning Horace, suspecting that this man was the culprit behind the recent series of robberies.
"Yes, that was me," Horace admitted, his expression complex.
"I just wanted those bankers to pay. They took my home, left me with nothing."
Peter nodded, uninterested in Horace's issues with the bankers. "Now, take me to where you've stashed the money and jewels."
Horace froze, stunned by the demand.
Shouldn't your first priority be to save the Kents? Horace instantly branded Peter as a "scumbag" in his mind.
At the Podrick Farm...
Azu was gradually overpowering Clark.
Thud!
Blocking Clark's punch, Azu snarled, "I've always been stronger than you, Clark. Dad always said you were born with exceptional talent, but I'll prove that my strength surpasses yours!"
Completely riled up, Azu grabbed Clark's fist and threw him down with force.
Clark's impact cracked the floor, with furniture scattering.
"No, you're wrong, Azu."
Despite the pain in his back, Clark staggered to his feet.
Now enraged, with reason cast aside, he shouted at Azu, "My power is exceptional, because I'm the godfather's son. The godfather and I share the same abilities!"
"What?!"
Azu was dumbfounded.
"Last time in the hall, when the godfather fought those zombies, he showed super strength and defense. We share that power."
Clark let out everything he'd been holding back.
Realizing that Clark wanted to challenge him for their father's legacy and the farm, Azu grew frantic.
"Shut up! Clark, you're not his son—you're Jonathan's son!"
"They're both my fathers!"
"Liar! Fraud!"
Azu's face flushed with rage as he rushed forward and punched Clark in the chest.
Clark, relying on his thick skin, stepped back and then grabbed Azu's shoulder, trying to toss him aside.
But Azu held onto Clark's head, gritting his teeth as he headbutted him.
Thud!
The blow left both of them reeling, clutching their heads as they stumbled backward.
Azu's head throbbed as if butterflies and bees were buzzing around.
He leaned against the staircase railing, trying to clear his head.
Clark wasn't faring much better, as the world spun before his eyes, flipping everything upside down.
A buzzing sound filled his ears, and even Azu's figure blurred.
Panting heavily, Azu spotted the fish tank that had yet to be broken.
Inside, a tiny fish with a ghostly green glow swam.
An idea sprang to mind. Moving quickly, Azu scooped up the fish and flung it toward Clark.
Clark hadn't noticed Azu's movement; all he saw was a green flash before a wave of weakness overcame him.
His strength drained, and he collapsed painfully to the floor.
Glaring at the fallen Clark, Azu gasped, "No, Clark. You're not Dad's son—because Dad was never afraid of that."