Chapter 35: Dividing the Spoils
And beside them.
Anaconda, who witnessed all of this from the side.
At this moment, her evaluation of Spider-Man had undergone a complete upheaval.
If before,
she only thought Spider-Man was a 'powerful ally.'
Then now,
Anaconda had elevated Spider-Man's threat level to the highest tier.
Invisibility, teleportation, immense strength, bizarre elbow strike techniques, and he could even conjure electromagnetic weapons out of thin air...
"Even within the entire Serpent Society, perhaps only Madam HYDRA has the power to fight him?"
Anaconda thought inwardly.
"If anyone else faced this monster, their outcome would probably be no different from Kingpin's—instant defeat."
This ally had to be taken seriously, and perhaps even courted.
"Well done, Spider-Man."
Anaconda walked up to Peter, looked at the scorched ruins, and her tone carried a hint of reverence.
"Kingpin is dead, and the other underworld bosses are finished too. The underground World of New York is now ownerless territory."
Peter glanced at the time on his wrist.
It was 2:45 AM; in a few more hours, the Sun would rise.
The string of battles had left Peter slightly fatigued.
"It's about time to go home."
he thought to himself.
"I still need to go back for a second sleep; I have to train Uncle Ben in boxing tomorrow morning."
Thinking of this, Peter turned to look at Anaconda.
"Since Kingpin has exited the stage, it's time to discuss his legacy and the division of profits in Hells Kitchen."
Peter's voice returned to its casual tone.
"Agreed."
Anaconda nodded without any objection.
The two immediately exchanged contact information. Discussing business atop the ruins littered with corpses created a scene full of dark humor.
"Kingpin was the core of Fisk Tower; with his death, the entire organization is bound to fall into chaos."
Peter analyzed clearly.
"I will arrange for people to take over some of the legitimate commercial assets, such as this building, shell companies, and land."
What Peter referred to was naturally Osborn Industries.
With Harry's current financial backing, coupled with Peter's inside information,
swallowing up a leaderless Fisk Tower was simply a big fish eating a small fish—easy and pleasant.
"No problem."
Anaconda had no interest in that.
The Serpent Society was an organization of mercenaries and assassins; they weren't keen on managing legitimate companies.
"What about the underground portion?"
"Kingpin's smuggling network, arms channels, and all those shady black market dealings."
A sharp glint flashed in Peter's eyes.
"We'll split these things fifty-fifty."
Osborn Industries found it inconvenient to handle grey assets, and Peter was too lazy to manage such dirty work himself.
Therefore, he could hand it over to the Serpent Society to manage, acting as the boss behind the scenes.
"Deal."
Anaconda readily agreed.
For her, gaining half of New York's underground share without suffering any troop losses was an unexpected delight.
"Then I'll take my leave now."
Anaconda heard the distant sound of sirens.
Clearly,
even if the New York Police Department was slow to react, they should have arrived by now after such a massive disturbance.
"This is a commercial tower; the Police will surround this place soon. Although we don't fear them, it's better to avoid trouble."
"I will report your merits to the organization. Long live HYDRA!"
Having said that,
Anaconda wasted no more words, leaped through the large hole Peter had blasted earlier, and swiftly vanished into the darkness.
Watching Anaconda's retreating back, Peter did not rush to leave.
He walked up to the wall.
Although Kingpin had been reduced to a smear, his cane remained intact on the ground.
Peter picked up the cane; it felt heavy in his hand.
"Good stuff."
Peter lightly tapped the shaft of the cane.
This item was forged entirely from high-strength alloy.
Beneath the huge diamond at the head of the cane, a laser emitter was hidden, and it also integrated a high-voltage stun function.
More importantly,
the shaft of this cane was mixed with a small amount of Adamantium.
Even if the purity wasn't high, on this Earth, this was an invaluable rare metal.
"Store."
Peter waved his hand, and Kingpin's cane disappeared into his system space.
Immediately after,
he went to the corpses of Mister Negative and Tombstone.
Both were completely dead now, but the extraordinary genes within their bodies still held research value.
Mister Negative's "Negative Energy," and Tombstone's ability to generate high temperatures and possess an indestructible "rock skin."
These were practically heaven-sent samples for Osborn Industries.
Peter skillfully collected blood and tissue samples.
"Take these back to research; perhaps we can develop a new strengthening serum."
he mused.
After finishing all this, Peter looked around.
Confirming that no spoils had been left behind, he took one last look at the ruins.
"Rest in peace, everyone."
Peter chuckled lightly, "Next life, remember not to provoke the good neighbor."
With that, he raised his wrist.
"Thwip!"
A strand of Web fluid shot toward the large hole in the ceiling.
Peter spread his form, and like a red bird of prey, he shot upward, quickly disappearing near Fisk Tower.
...
A few minutes later.
On top of a skyscraper in Manhattan, Peter faced the night wind, removed his mask, revealing his young and handsome face.
He activated his wristband again and called Teresa's cell phone.
"Hello? Who is this?"
Teresa's slightly weary voice came from the other end.
Evidently,
she was still working overtime.
"It's me, your dear brother."
Peter sounded relaxed, as if he had just finished shopping, "I have good news to tell you."
"Peter?"
Teresa's voice instantly became much more energetic.
"How is it on your end? Did you go to investigate Kingpin's conspiracy?"
"Investigate? Oh, that's not important anymore."
Peter said casually, "Because I took care of the problem along the way."
"Took care of it?"
Teresa paused, having a bad feeling, "What do you mean by 'took care of it'..."
"Kingpin is dead, along with all his cronies."
"Bullseye, Hammerhead, Tombstone, Mister Negative... Oh, right, and a lunatic from The Hand."
Peter recited the names as if listing groceries, speaking lightly.
"Fisk Tower is a bit... messy right now. As for the specifics, you can send people to check the scene."
The other end of the line fell into a long silence.
Teresa was clearly stunned by the massive amount of information.
Kingpin was dead?
The underworld emperor who gave S.H.I.E.L.D. headaches was just gone? And he took a bunch of supervillains with him?
"You... you did all that alone?"
Teresa's voice trembled slightly.
"Who else? Did God manifest himself?"
Peter yawned.
"In short, those guys trying to form a criminal alliance have become history."
"However, the scene might be a bit bloody, so please hurry up and send Agents to clean up."
Peter looked at Fisk Tower in the distance, flashing with red and blue Police lights, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
"If media like The Daily Bugle manage to snap photos of the scene, not only the New York Police Department, but probably S.H.I.E.L.D. will have a headache."
"After all, nobody wants the public to know."
"That Fisk, the widely renowned philanthropist, was actually an underworld figure, right?"
"Peter! You...!"
Teresa was about to get angry, but Peter decisively hung up the call.
"Beep—Beep—Beep—"
Listening to the dial tone, Peter put away his communicator and stretched.
"Mission complete, off work and heading home."
He put his mask back on, leaped, and vanished into the night before dawn.
Leaving behind at S.H.I.E.L.D. an emergency overtime session that was about to descend into chaos.
Chapter 36: A New Day
Three o'clock in the morning.
Forest Hills, Queens.
While Hells Kitchen in Manhattan was still in chaos due to the incident at Fisk Tower, with police sirens echoing through the night sky,
Queens, separated only by the East River, seemed to exist in another parallel Universe.
This was a famous community where the middle class and the wealthy mingled.
The environment was elegant, and the public safety was excellent.
The streets were lined with tall maple and oak trees, and the neatly trimmed lawns shimmered faintly under the streetlights.
There were no drug addicts lurking in dark alleys, nor were there gang fights that could erupt at any moment.
Even late at night.
The occasional police car that drove by was merely on routine patrol, bringing a strong sense of security to the residents here.
Therefore.
The public safety environment in Forest Hills was among the best in all of New York City.
A black figure.
Silently swept across the night sky like a light falling leaf.
Peter didn't startle anyone.
Skillfully, he shot out a strand of Web fluid, sticking it to the edge of the second-floor bedroom windowsill.
The killing god who had wreaked havoc and shattered skulls with an elbow strike at Fisk Tower, the moment he touched this small house,
The fierce killing intent on his body receded like a tide.
"Click."
The window was gently pushed open.
Peter slipped silently into the warm bedroom like a nimble cat.
In the room.
A reassuring scent permeated the air.
It was the fragrance of lavender laundry detergent mixed with Gwen's unique, youthful body scent.
By the moonlight filtering through the window, Peter saw the raised outline on the large bed.
Gwen was curled up in the covers, her golden long hair spread across the pillow, her breathing even and deep.
She was sleeping soundly.
Clearly, the day's high-intensity mental internship, coupled with the special "physical training," had completely exhausted her energy.
Gwen had no idea.
In the few hours since she had drifted off to sleep,
Her boyfriend had single-handedly destroyed New York's largest criminal organization, incidentally sending several villains to hell.
Peter stood by the bedside, watching her quietly for a moment.
"This is the life I must protect."
He thought to himself.
The slaughter in Hells Kitchen was all for this moment of tranquility.
Only by crushing all ambitious schemers in the bud could this pure land he cherished remain peaceful for a long time.
Peter didn't immediately get into bed.
The smell of blood still lingered on him; although the system allowed for instant costume changes, he still needed to wash up.
With a thought.
The suit on his body vanished, replaced by a set of simple casual home clothes.
Afterward.
Peter quietly walked into the second-floor bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the showerhead.
"Splash..."
The warm stream washed over his perfectly sculpted, marble-like muscles.
Peter closed his eyes.
Letting the water wash away the fatigue of the night.
The sense of excitement after ending a battle was slowly subsiding with the flowing water.
Ten minutes later.
Peter dried his body and changed into a loose, comfortable pure cotton pajama set.
He walked out of the bathroom.
Like a husband with a guilty conscience, he carefully lifted a corner of the warm quilt and slipped into the cozy bedding.
His movements were gentle, avoiding waking his sleeping girlfriend.
Gwen beside him seemed to sense the heat source and subconsciously turned over.
An arm draped over Peter's chest, and she mumbled an indistinct dream word before continuing to sleep soundly.
Peter naturally wrapped his arm around her, feeling the softness of the body in his embrace.
At this moment.
The digital clock on the bedside table displayed a quarter past three in the morning.
"I can still sleep for over three more hours."
Peter adjusted to a comfortable position, closed his eyes, "For me now, this amount of sleep is sufficient."
...
Early morning.
When the first ray of sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains and spilled onto the floor, Peter opened his eyes.
He felt refreshed.
Last night's thrilling battle seemed like nothing more than a phantom dream.
Gwen beside him was still lingering in bed, clinging to him like a koala.
Peter smiled.
He pressed a good morning kiss onto her smooth forehead.
"Wake up, little lazybones, you have to go to Osborn Industries today too."
Gwen's eyelashes fluttered a few times.
Only then did she reluctantly open her eyes, her deep blue irises still carrying a hint of post-sleep haziness.
She stretched, her beautiful curves faintly visible beneath the thin blanket.
"Good morning, Peter..."
Gwen yawned, her voice soft and sweet.
"When did you get back last night? I didn't feel a thing."
"That's because you were sleeping too deeply, practically as if you were hit with a Sleeping Charm."
Peter pinched her nose and rolled out of bed.
"Hurry up and get up, Aunt May must have already made breakfast."
The two began washing up and changing clothes.
Peter changed into a simple white T-shirt and casual pants, looking just like a sunny and handsome boy next door.
Gwen chose a light blue shirt and jeans, exuding capable youthfulness.
Just as Gwen was adjusting her collar in front of the mirror.
She caught sight of Peter behind her, grinning mischievously, in the mirror's reflection.
"Be honest, Peter."
Gwen suddenly turned around, her eyes holding a trace of curiosity, "What big thing did you go out to do last night?"
As the daughter of a police chief, she possessed intuition beyond ordinary people.
Furthermore, Gwen knew Peter was Spider-Man.
She also knew.
This guy had an unbelievably high level of energy, going out to hunt almost every night to expend his restless vigor.
Peter's action of putting on his socks paused for a moment.
He hadn't planned to hide it, so he leaned close to Gwen's ear with a feigned air of mystery, lowering his voice:
"Since you found out, I won't pretend anymore. That's right, I did do something big last night."
"How big?" Gwen blinked.
"Very big."
Peter said with a wicked smile.
"Trust me, you'll see it on the news later. Don't be too surprised then."
The villains he took down last night were not nobodies.
Among them.
Were public figures who held prestige in the public eye, like Kingpin and Mister Negative.
Even if S.H.I.E.L.D. operated efficiently.
Even if they could clean up the scene overnight.
However.
Some things were impossible to completely cover up, no matter what.
At best, they could only apply some artistic processing and disguise to the truth of the matter.
"News?"
Gwen was momentarily stunned.
Although Spider-Man often made the news.
It was mostly routine news like 'Spider-Man apprehended a robber' or 'Spider-Man saved a runaway school bus.'
Peter specifically emphasizing 'Don't be surprised when you see it' meant that this time the matter was definitely unusual.
"So... you really did something incredibly significant last night?"
"Did you perhaps move the Statue of Liberty?"
Gwen joked.
Peter laughed, walked forward, and said with a tone of pride:
"Not quite, but the impact is similarly shocking. Your boyfriend here is specifically in the business of doing big things."
Before Gwen could react.
Peter suddenly reached out and slapped her tightly fitted, perky backside through her jeans with a crisp sound.
"Slap!"
The feel was excellent, full of elasticity.
"Ah!"
Gwen gasped, her face instantly flushing red down to her ears, and she glared at him crossly.
"Peter! So early in the morning... That's hardly proper behavior!"
"This is called morning exercise."
Peter laughed heartily and, before Gwen's soft fist could land, nimbly dodged out of the bedroom.
"Hurry downstairs, I smell bacon!"
Chapter 37: False News
The two walked downstairs one after the other, arriving at the lively, smoke-filled dining room on the first floor.
Aunt May had already brought breakfast to the table.
Today's breakfast was lavish.
Perfectly pan-fried bacon, golden fried eggs, crispy toasted bread, and a large pot of steaming hot oatmeal.
"Good morning, Aunt May, Uncle Ben," Gwen greeted politely, the blush on her face not yet completely faded.
"Good morning, children," Aunt May turned around, but her expression lacked the usual morning vitality.
Instead, it carried a sense of shock and pity.
"Oh, my goodness... How could something like this happen?"
Gwen caught the abnormality in Aunt May's tone.
"What's wrong, Aunt May?" Gwen pulled out a chair and sat down.
Following Aunt May's gaze, she looked at the LCD television on the living room wall, which was broadcasting the morning news.
On the TV screen,
Instead of the usual lighthearted weather forecast or stock market updates,
There was a news anchor with a solemn face, the background being a skyscraper that was still smoking, surrounded by Police tape.
That was Fisk Tower.
Gwen's ears immediately perked up.
Was this what Peter meant when he said, "Look at the news"?
The anchorwoman was reading the prepared statement in a mournful tone:
"...This station has just received breaking news. Early this morning, a serious gas pipeline leak occurred at Fisk Towerin Midtown Manhattan, leading to a chain of explosions."
The scene switched.
It did not show the gruesome scene of flesh and blood scattered across the four underground floors, which was clearly already sealed off tightly by S.H.I.E.L.D.
Instead, it showed footage of the building's exterior walls damaged and glass shattered.
Immediately following that,
Two black-and-white photos appeared on the screen.
One was of a bald, large-framed man who looked quite imposing—Wilson Fisk.
The other was of a smiling, gentle-looking Asian man—Martin Li.
The anchorwoman's voice continued:
"According to confirmation from the Police and Fire Departments, this tragedy resulted in multiple casualties."
"Among them are the renowned entrepreneur, philanthropist, and Chairman of 'Fisk Industries,' Mr. Wilson Fisk, as well as the founder of the 'FEAST' charity center, the famous Asian philanthropist Mr. Martin Li."
"According to sources, the two gentlemen were holding a late-night business meeting regarding funding for New York's homeless population at the time."
"Unfortunately, the location of the explosion was directly beneath their conference room. The building's underground structure was severely damaged, leading to both men dying on the spot..."
"This is a huge loss for New York's charitable community. The Mayor's office has issued a statement expressing deep condolences for the passing of these two outstanding citizens..."
The content broadcast on the television screen was enough to shock any New York citizen.
But listening to the report full of lies, Peter, who was drinking milk, almost couldn't help but laugh out loud.
"Gas leak?" Peter secretly chuckled.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s excuse for covering it up is too cliché. Why didn't they say it was a septic tank explosion?"
It was obvious.
The media dared not speak the truth, or perhaps they themselves didn't know the truth at all.
It seemed that last night,
Teresa and the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents she led had already worked overtime throughout the night to complete the cover-up.
They had cleaned up all the messes Peter had made in Fisk Tower.
Moreover,
They used their vast resources
To make all the media in New York broadcast this censored, false news simultaneously.
However, Peter also understood that this was the usual approach for the authorities.
After all,
If the public knew that
These two seemingly glamorous great philanthropists were actually the biggest gang leaders in New York,
And were secretly involved in human experimentation, arms dealing, and even colluding with cults...
The faces of the U.S. government and the New York PoliceDepartment would be severely slapped.
Rather than letting society fall into panic and a crisis of trust,
It was better to fabricate a beautiful lie, letting them die in an 'accident' as 'good people'.
In any case, the dead could not speak.
Although,
This was actually useless; people no longer believed the shameless politicians spouting lies.
"God is too cruel..." Aunt May sat on the sofa, watching the footage on TV reviewing the 'charitable deeds' of Kingpinand Martin Li.
She couldn't help but feel her eyes redden, crossing herself with both hands over her chest.
She truly felt pity.
As a kind and simple housewife, the World Aunt May saw was completely different from the World Peter saw.
In her perception,
Although Wilson Fisk looked fierce,
He often donated to the community and repaired schools, making him a reformed good rich man.
And Martin Li was even more of a living Bodhisattva.
His FEAST center took in countless homeless people; Aunt May had even volunteered there before.
"They were all good people..." Aunt May sighed, her voice full of compassion.
"Mr. Martin was still appealing on TV last week for everyone to pay attention to the homeless population."
"I never thought... such a good person would suddenly pass away. What will those poor homeless people do now?"
Listening to Aunt May's heartfelt exclamation,
Peter fought the urge to tell her, "Those two guys were actually elbowed to death by me."
He knew
Some truths were too cruel and unsuitable for a kind person like Aunt May.
Letting her retain a sense of goodwill towards the Worldmight also be a form of protection.
So,
Peter put down his knife and fork.
His face took on a serious, even solemn expression.
"Don't be too sad, Aunt May," Peter walked to her side, gently patted her shoulder, and said in a deep voice.
"God is fair."
"Although this is a tragedy, I believe they have gone to the place they should go and received the treatment they deserved."
Peter slightly emphasized the words "should go" and "deserved."
In his heart, he silently added:
"Of course, they went to hell. If hell has eighteen layers, these two scoundrels deserve to be on the nineteenth."
Aunt May didn't detect the sarcasm in Peter's words.
She looked up at her sensible nephew and nodded with relief:
"Peter, you truly are a kind child. You are right. May the Lord forgive their souls."
How could Aunt May know?
Those so-called 'great benefactors' were personally elbowed to death by the 'kind child' standing before her.
And on the other side of the dining table,
Gwen mechanically chewed the toast in her mouth, her bright blue eyes wide open.
In her mind,
She quickly connected what Peter had said earlier with the news report.
Peter said: "I pulled off a big one last night."
Peter said: "You'll know if you watch the news."
The news said: "Kingpin and Martin Li died in an 'accident' at the same time and place last night."
How could there be such a coincidental accident in the World?
Gwen was a smart girl; she was an A-plus student and the Police Director's daughter.
She understood perfectly well
What the excuse of a "gas explosion" implied behind it.
Chapter 38: Doppelganger Operation
Hiss—"
Gwen sucked in a sharp breath.
She abruptly turned her head, looking at Peter, who was comforting Aunt May with an 'obedient' expression.
"This is the news Peter was talking about?!"
A tempest raged in Gwen's heart.
She had initially thought Peter had just caught a few thieves or busted a drug den.
But she never expected that Peter would directly take out the two biggest philanthropists in New York?
And judging by the situation, he wiped them out completely?
"It seems Fisk and Martin Li were never philanthropists at all, but hypocrites hiding behind a facade of virtue."
Gwen quickly calmed down from the shock and rapidly completed her psychological adjustment.
She unconditionally chose to believe her boyfriend.
She understood Peter.
Although Peter usually seemed a bit cynical, spoke with a sharp tongue, and sometimes used petty tricks,
When faced with major issues of right and wrong, Peterhad an absolute bottom line.
Peter was absolutely not the type to indiscriminately kill the innocent.
If he killed these two people,
It meant these two must have committed unforgivable crimes, perhaps even more severe than what the law could judge.
Gwen preferred to believe that those two philanthropists, who were lauded like saints on television,
Were actually heinous villains behind the scenes.
"Peter did this to protect this city."
Gwen looked at Peter's profile.
The affection in her eyes hadn't diminished; instead, it was mixed with admiration and heartache.
"He bears all this darkness alone, unable even to tell Aunt May the truth, forced to let the media whitewash the situation."
Just then,
Peter seemed to sense Gwen's burning gaze.
He turned his head, winked at Gwen, his expression seeming to say:
"How about it? Aren't you impressed by your boyfriend?"
Gwen's face flushed red.
She shot him a reproachful glare, then lowered her head to take a sip of milk, concealing the smile tugging at her lips.
Soon,
The milk and oatmeal on the dining table were nearly gone.
Peter, Gwen, and Aunt May continued to enjoy this moment of quiet time, as usual.
Although the news of Kingpin and Martin Li's deaths was causing a huge uproar on television,
For Aunt May,
They were ultimately just two strangers who had passed away. Aside from a few sighs of emotion, it didn't significantly affect her mood.
What she cared about more
Was whether Peter's tie was crooked today, and whether Gwen had slept well last night.
Uncle Ben's figure was long gone.
Since starting his recovery training, the stubborn old soldier would go out for a morning run as soon as dawn broke.
Rain or shine.
His self-discipline even earned Peter's admiration.
Peter chewed the last piece of bacon while calculating his schedule for the day in his mind.
"Today I have to teach Uncle Ben the Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist, which means I must split off a shadow clone to stay at home."
"The S.H.I.E.L.D. mission with Teresa also needs to be concluded. Although the fieldwork is done, that damned written report still hasn't been finished."
"I'll have to split off another shadow clone to handle the paperwork."
"Plus the clones currently conducting R&D with Ivan and Otto at Osborn Tower…"
Peter rubbed his slightly throbbing temples.
Although he had been continuously adding points to the [Constitution] attribute, which was now as high as 170, his physical stamina was immeasurably deep like the ocean.
However, the Shadow Clone Jutsu skill had a fatal side effect:
Mental fatigue could not be distributed or eliminated.
The experiences, memories, and mental exhaustion of all clones would feed back to the main body.
It was like one person
Working five jobs simultaneously and pulling five all-nighters.
Even if the body could endure it, the brain would truly start buzzing.
After all,
The shadow clones Peter used were not like those used by ninjas in the original stories,
Merely for temporary combat.
Instead, he had to maintain several bodies simultaneously, working overtime every day on mentally taxing scientific research.
"Simply adding attribute points is only treating the symptom, not the root cause,"
Peter thought to himself.
"To solve the mental load brought by multi-threading, I must utilize higher-level resources—skill points."
After breakfast,
The two bid farewell to Aunt May and set off on their commute to Manhattan.
However, this time,
There was no imposing Police car from Father-in-law George to pick them up.
It couldn't be helped.
Peter's rampage last night had thrown Hells Kitchen, and indeed all of New York, into chaos.
Various gangs were fighting fiercely to seize territory and business.
The entire New York Police Department had their leave canceled.
George Stacy already had an extremely strong sense of responsibility; as a future Director, he was already impossibly busy.
He simply had no time to drive his daughter.
Thus,
Peter drove Uncle Ben's somewhat aged Ford, carrying Gwen, out of the neighborhood.
Before leaving the community,
He didn't forget to create two identical shadow clones.
One clone slipped back home to prepare to transform into a "Martial Arts Grandmaster" to instruct Uncle Ben.
The other clone found an internet cafe.
And miserably began writing that S.H.I.E.L.D. report regarding the "Complete Account of the Downfall of the Kingpin Crime Syndicate."
...
Osborn Tower, 33rd Floor.
Peter parked the inconspicuous old Ford in his dedicated parking spot.
He smoothly swiped his card, passed security, and led Gwen straight to his core independent laboratory.
"Beep—Identity confirmed, Consultant Peter Parker."
As the electronic voice sounded,
The heavy metal door slid open.
Today's lesson was still on gene biology, specifically the most cutting-edge knowledge.
After a period of serious study—
The truly serious kind—
Peter didn't forget to draw a small tube of bright red blood sample from Gwen's fair arm.
The dark red blood swayed in the test tube.
"This is for formulating a personalized Super Spider Serum just for you,"
Peter explained while placing the blood sample into a precise gene sequencer.
"Every person's gene map is a unique password."
"To allow you to gain spider abilities without turning into a monster with six arms, precise gene matching is required."
Gwen watched Peter's busy back,
Her eyes full of expectation and adoration.
"Can I also become the crime-fighting Spider-Woman?"
Gwen clenched her fist.
Imagining herself soaring above the city in the black and white suit Peter designed.
"Then we can operate together. I'll be your… hmm, best partner?"
"Of course, my Spider-Woman,"
Peter turned back and smiled dotingly.
He typed a series of complex commands into the control panel.
"Leave the rest of the work to this supercomputer."
"It's equipped with the algorithms developed by Dr.Connors and me, and it will complete all the base pair recombination simulations at an extremely fast speed."
"Give it some time."
In this World of technological explosion,
To conduct scientific research, a genius brain alone is not enough; one must also be adept at utilizing tools.
Tedious calculations are handed over to the AI.
Geniuses only need to be responsible for inspiration and quality control.
When the final result emerges, Peter just needs to check the final plan for any potential hidden dangers.
Chapter 39: Deep Blue, Level Up!
As the machine began to hum, the progress bar on the screen slowly climbed.
In the laboratory.
The atmosphere once again became intimate, involving only two people.
Peter turned around, looking at Gwen, who was wearing a white lab coat, his gaze gradually becoming somewhat ardent.
"Since we still need to wait for a while..."
He walked up to Gwen, pulled her into an embrace with both arms, and said with a wicked smile,
"Why don't we do something else first, and exercise a bit? After all, if you want to become a Superhero, physical fitness is the foundation."
[Note to readers: Please remember our domain name, Taiwan Novel Network, which is super useful, and you can choose tc freely.]
Gwen's face instantly turned red, like a ripe apple.
"Again... again?"
She bit her lip, looking at Peter with a hint of playful reproach.
But her body honestly went soft, showing no intention of refusing.
After all,
Yesterday's "Laboratory Special Training".
Although it pushed Gwen's sense of shame to the limit, the thrill and the pleasure of soul alignment were indeed addictive.
"This is for science," Peter said solemnly, spouting nonsense, then lowered his head and kissed her.
...
A moment later.
The ambiguous atmosphere in the laboratory had not yet dissipated.
In the face of Peter's tireless perpetual motion machine, Gwen easily succumbed.
She was slightly exhausted, slumped in the expensive ergonomic swivel chair, a blush of satisfaction lingering on her face.
She had entered the Sage Mode, not even wanting to move a finger.
And Peter?
He was still full of vigor, sitting at the experimental bench on the other side, even feeling like it wasn't enough.
"This is the value of 170 Constitution points," Peter sighed inwardly.
However,
Although his body wasn't tired.
The spiritual fatigue originating from the depths of his soul, caused by maintaining multiple shadow clones, felt like a thin needle, occasionally pricking his nerves.
"It's time to add some points."
Peter took a deep breath, sinking his consciousness into the system panel.
Before adding points,
He first recalled the random item lottery chance he earned after completing the [The Hand Mission] yesterday, which he hadn't used yet.
"Let's draw a prize to liven things up first."
Peter's thought moved.
"System, lottery."
The virtual big turntable spun rapidly in his mind.
Finally,
It stopped on a square emitting a strange purple light.
[Ding! Congratulations on obtaining a Special Item: NezhaImmortal Drink]
[Item Description: A bizarre beverage from a parallel Universe, its formula is unknown, and its taste is unique.]
[Effect: Upon consumption, the drinker will immediately transform into the Demon Pill state.]
[Note: It's him, it's him, it's him, our friend Little Nezha!]
As a burst of light flashed,
A drink resembling milk tea appeared out of thin air in Peter's hand.
But the packaging of this milk tea was particularly wild.
The cup was decorated with a small, smirking child's head wearing heavy eye makeup, and the straw was even flame-shaped.
"Nezha Immortal Drink?"
Peter looked at the milk tea in his hand, his mouth twitching uncontrollably.
"I can actually draw something like this?!"
Drinking it turns you into the Demon Pill? This must be a mixture of stimulants and hallucinogens, right?
Although the system's item effects never fall short.
If he drank this beverage, his combat power might surge, and he might even be able to conjure the Fire-tipped Spear with his bare hands.
But...
What exactly 'transforming into the Demon Pill' meant was still unknown to Peter.
He had no intention of
Personally trying something that looked so unreliable.
What if,
After drinking this thing, Peter couldn't control the Primordial Power within him and directly blew up Osborn Tower?
That would be a loss outweighing the gain.
"Absolutely not."
Peter decisively put the [Nezha Immortal Drink] into the farthest corner of the system space.
"This thing can only be used as a last resort, or... given to someone I don't like to drink."
After the small interlude of the lottery draw.
Peter's expression sobered, and he refocused his attention on the system panel.
The main event was next.
Adding points.
His current reserve of skill points was quite ample.
Last night's rampage in Fisk Tower alone, the [Vigilante] mission contributed 5 skill points.
"Simply adding attribute points can improve the base panel, but it's not enough for skill control and deep-level application."
Peter deeply understood the way of games.
It was like a warrior, no matter how strong his Strength, if he only knew how to use basic attacks, he was just a brute.
Only by leveling up the skill can one unlock more special effects.
And under the system's "Deep Blue Point Allocation Flow" mechanism, one could gain a more considerable attribute feedback.
Peter scanned his skill bar, his gaze locking onto two skills:
[Shadow Clone Jutsu (LV2)]
[Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist (LV3)]
"First, solve the problem of mental fatigue."
Peter didn't hesitate and invested 2 skill points into [Shadow Clone Jutsu].
[System Prompt: Consumed 2 skill points.]
[Shadow Clone Jutsu Level Increase: LV2 -> LV4.]
[Skill Feedback: With the increase in skill proficiency, your mental resilience is enhanced, and the burden of the clones on the main body is greatly reduced.]
[Attribute Increase: Constitution +5, Spirit +8.]
"Hoo..."
A cool current, like an ice spring, instantly flooded Peter's brain.
Although the magnitude of the attribute increase this time wasn't exaggerated—it was within the "general" range—the effect was immediate.
The faint throbbing pain, originally caused by multi-threaded operation and several clones returning memories simultaneously,
vanished as if blown away by a gentle breeze.
Peter only felt
His thoughts had become clearer than ever before, as if his brain's CPU cooling system had been upgraded.
Even maintaining multiple clones for high-intensity work simultaneously no longer brought that heavy feeling of mental fatigue.
"Much better."
Peter shook his head, feeling refreshed.
Next,
Was the key to improving combat power, and the real main event.
Peter looked at the remaining 3 skill points earned yesterday, his eyes growing eager.
He didn't hesitate at all.
He threw all 3 precious points into the skill from the One-Punch Man World, a technique that could be called the art of close combat.
[Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist (LV3)]
[System Prompt: Consumed 3 skill points.]
[Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist Level Increase: LV3 -> LV6.]
Boom!!!
If the previous upgrade to shadow clone felt like a clear spring,
then this time, Peter felt as if a volcano had erupted inside him, subsequently transforming into a vast, surging river.
This was not just an infusion of knowledge, but a leap in life level.
[Skill Feedback: Your comprehension of Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist has reached perfection. To adapt to this high-intensity martial art technique, your physical body is undergoing comprehensive reshaping and evolution.]
[Attributes greatly increased!]
[Strength +30!]
[Agility +30!]
[Constitution +30!]
[Spirit +20!]
A terrifying heat instantly swept through his entire body.
Peter could clearly hear the "crackling" sound emanating from within his body, like popping beans.
His muscle fibers became denser; every bundle of muscle felt like a steel cable tempered by a thousand fires.
Bone density further increased, its hardness even beginning to approach that of alloy.
Nerve reaction speed became extremely fast; the surrounding World seemed to slow down in his eyes.
This was an all-around surge!
As a martial art skill, [Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist] emphasizes overcoming hardness with softness and integrating offense and defense.
It places extremely high demands on the user's physical condition.
Therefore,
When the skill level soared to LV6, the system directly fed back obvious attribute bonuses to Peter.
This increase in Strength and Agility,
Combined with his already powerful physique, caused Peter's overall combat power to more than double!
Chapter 40: Gene Analysis
New Trait Unlocked: Flowing Water Strength (LV6).
Any of your attacks will be accompanied by a powerful internal energy with extreme penetration, capable of ignoring 40% of the target's physical defense and causing concussive damage to internal organs.]
[Remember this site's domain name: Taiwan Novel Network for entertainment, read anytime!]
Peter clenched his fist.
He felt the power flowing through his fingertips, a sense of being able to control everything.
"Is this the joy of the Deep Blue Attribute Point system?"
Peter secretly rejoiced.
Now, even without relying on the backstab from Fraud Magic,
just with this LV6 Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist,
he was confident he could 'disassemble' a pure strength-based monster like the Hulk until he was completely disoriented.
"The feeling of getting stronger just by adding points is truly intoxicating."
Peter let out a long breath, slowly retracting the surging aura within his body.
The sharp glint flashing in his eyes also faded, returning to his usual gentle and clear neighborly boy appearance.
The attribute increase was complete, and his strength had surged.
Peter stood before the control panel and glanced at the progress bar on the gene sequencer.
On the screen,
the gene sequence for the 'Gwen-version Super Spider' was undergoing the final simulated calculation.
Although the core formula had been generated,
converting those complex base pairs into a physical biological sample still required the cultivation tank to undergo a period of cell proliferation and induction.
"It will probably take another two hours."
Peter calculated in his mind, "This time is perfect for grinding down some other progress."
He glanced at the system panel.
Today's daily mission was basically the same as yesterday's, with no difficulty.
[Daily Mission: A Qualified Boyfriend and Mentor]
[Today's Goal: Assist girlfriend Gwen Stacy in completing the second day of her internship content, and let her feel fulfilled (academically).]
[Mission Reward: 1000 Experience Points, 1 Free Attribute Point.]
"As long as I teach Gwen a few more things, this attribute point will be in the bag."
Peter's main body would be responsible for accompanying his girlfriend.
As for other chores, the shadow clones would naturally act as manual labor.
"Since I'm free anyway, I might as well study the spoils I acquired last night first."
Peter flipped his wrist,
and took out two sealed containers from his system space.
Inside the containers,
were small pieces of flesh and blood tissue samples, one from Mister Negative and one from Tombstone.
"Although these two guys have questionable morals, their superpowers are indeed something special."
Peter put on sterile gloves,
used tweezers to pick up a small piece of tissue sample, which belonged to Mister Negative.
He placed it under an electronic microscope and tapped the keyboard, launching the spectral analysis program.
What Peter wanted to do
was to crack the secrets of their superpowers hidden within the genes of these two villains.
Perhaps,
he could use this as a basis to replicate their superpowers and bestow them upon others in a stable and safe manner.
After all,
there was already the 'Super Spider,' the 'Super Soldier Serum,' the 'Lizard Regeneration Serum,'...
with these top-tier creations of biotechnology already existing,
Peter was absolutely confident that with his own intelligence and technology, he could develop corresponding gene enhancement serums.
"Tombstone's ability is to petrify skin cells and generate high heat."
"This is a physical defense and close-combat support ability. While decent, for me now, it's just icing on the cake."
In Peter's view,
Tombstone's genes weren't that outstanding; at best, they could be used to develop some potions for future underlings.
What truly made Peter covetous was Mister Negative's ability.
"Negative Energy..."
Peter looked at the strange gene chain structure on the screen, presenting in dual black and white colors.
"A special energy capable of corroding the mind and condensing into a physical form."
Peter's current weaknesses were very obvious.
He had no mana bar.
Whether it was the teleportation and invisibility of [Fraud Magic] or the [Shadow Clone Jutsu],
or even other magic or supernatural skills he might learn in the future, they currently all forcibly deducted his stamina to be cast.
Although Peter had high vitality and fast recovery,
it was like using a gold brick as a regular brick to smash people—too wasteful and extremely inefficient.
Even though Peter's four primary attributes were very high,
his character panel consistently lacked the crucial attribute of [Energy].
Peter thought to himself,
"If I can crack Mister Negative's genes and introduce this Negative Energy, or a similar energy, into my body..."
"Then I can unlock a true 'mana value' slot!"
Imagine,
if [Fraud Magic] no longer consumed stamina but a purer form of energy,
would the teleportation distance increase from a few meters to hundreds of meters?
Would the invisibility duration increase from a few seconds to several minutes?
He could even, like Mister Negative,
casually conjure black and white energy waves, or enchant his elbows to unleash attacks imbued with mental corrosion effects.
"If the experiment succeeds, Spider-Man will no longer just be a physical fighter who only swings webs and throws punches."
Peter muttered to himself, a hint of ambition curving his lips.
"I will become a monster proficient in both magic and martial arts, capable of tanking and attacking, invisible and teleporting, and even shooting lasers from a distance..."
"That image is simply magnificent."
Just as Peter was immersed in his vision of the future, a rustling sound came from behind him.
Gwen had woken up.
She was curled up in the large swivel chair, draped with Peter's jacket.
After the exercise that was 'more tiring than doing experiments' just now,
this future female scientist,
like a full and content kitten, lazily adjusted her messy collar and curiously leaned over.
"Mentor Peter?"
Gwen looked at the continuously rotating black and white gene chain on the microscope screen, then looked at Peter's focused expression,
and couldn't help but ask,
"What is this? It doesn't look like spider genes; it looks more like some kind of... unstable radioactive substance?"
Peter turned his head, his look of anticipation receding, replaced by a mysterious smile.
"Good observation, student Stacy."
He pointed to the screen.
"This is indeed not a spider. It's a special biological sample I picked up last night. I'm researching an entirely new kind of power."
"A brand new power?" Gwen's eyes widened in surprise.
"That's right."
Peter explained with a half-truth,
"If my theory holds true and the experiment succeeds... in the future, Spider-Man will not only be able to cling to walls but also shoot light from his eyes and conjure fireballs with his hands."
"Is that real?!"
Gwen was completely shocked, and her sleepiness vanished instantly.
"That would make him just like a Mutant! Have you already managed to develop all sorts of superpowers? That's too exaggerated!"
Although she knew Peter was a genius and Osborn Industries' technology was powerful,
the concept of 'customized superpowers'
still sounded too sci-fi; it was practically the authority of a god.
"It's not that exaggerated; it's still in the theoretical verification stage."
Peter waved his hand modestly, but his tone carried confidence.
"Besides, I won't take just any ability. Only useful powers that can compensate for my shortcomings are qualified to be included in my research scope."
"For example, this energy manipulation ability is so that your boyfriend can fight with less effort in the future."
Peter smiled and pinched Gwen's cheek.
"Alright, stop daydreaming."
"Since you're awake, come over and help me record a set of data. Today's internship mission is very demanding."
"Yes, My Lord Mentor."
Gwen stuck out her tongue and obediently picked up the electronic datapad.
Chapter 41: Teaching the Fist Technique
Meanwhile.
New York.
Queens, Forest Hills Community Park.
One of Peter's shadow clones, dressed in loose athletic wear, stood beneath an old oak tree in the park.
Not far away,
a figure that looked slightly aged but moved with vigorous steps was jogging closer.
It was Ben Parker.
He had just finished his daily, non-negotiable ten-kilometer run.
Although he was nearly seventy, Uncle Ben possessed more vitality and spirit than many young men in their twenties.
Sweat soaked through his gray sweatshirt.
As he breathed, wisps of white steam rose above his head.
This was a sign of vigorous metabolism.
Uncle Ben ran to the tree.
He slowly stopped, bent over with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply to regulate his heart rate.
From his waist pack,
he took out a bottle of electrolyte energy drink and took two big gulps to replenish lost salt.
"Hoo—"
Uncle Ben let out a long breath, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked at his waiting nephew with bright eyes.
"Peter, I'm ready."
Uncle Ben straightened up, stretched his wrists and ankles, and his joints made slight cracking sounds.
"I've finished warming up and I'm in perfect condition. Can we start the lesson now?"
Seeing Uncle Ben looking eager, as if preparing to step into a boxing ring.
Peter's shadow clone nodded approvingly.
"Since you are so motivated, Uncle Ben, let's begin then."
Peter's expression became solemn.
The casual air of the neighborhood boy vanished, replaced by the steady demeanor of a grandmaster.
"Uncle Ben, the technique I am going to teach you is called the Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist."
Peter's voice was not loud, but every word was clear.
"This is not only a martial art extremely effective in actual combat, but also a method of refining the human body that can transcend the ordinary from the inside out."
"It emphasizes overcoming the rigid with the soft, flowing like running water, yet beneath its gentle exterior lies a terrifying force capable of smashing rocks."
"If you can truly master this fist technique, practice it to a profound level..."
Peter paused, painting a grand picture for Uncle Ben.
"Never mind common street thugs; even Captain America, who is hailed as the peak of humanity, might not have a stronger physique than you."
"Captain America?!"
Uncle Ben's eyes widened like bronze bells.
To him, a World War II veteran, Steve Rogers was a god-like existence, an idol for life.
Now his nephew told him,
that by practicing this fist technique, he could equal or even surpass Captain America?
"You aren't joking, Peter, are you?" Uncle Ben was so excited his beard was trembling.
"I never joke, especially about the martial way," Peter said calmly.
"Good! I'll learn it! I will definitely learn it!" Uncle Ben clenched his fists, a blazing fire burning in his eyes.
"As long as it doesn't kill me, I'll practice it to death!"
However, Peter did not immediately strike a stance to begin teaching.
Under Uncle Ben's puzzled gaze,
he flipped his wrist.
From the system space, he took out a thread-bound book with slightly yellowed paper.
On the cover,
were written a few vigorous Chinese characters, accompanied by an English translation:
"The Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon - Meridian Chapter (Detailed Version)"
"Here, Uncle Ben." Peter handed the book over.
Uncle Ben was momentarily stunned. He took the heavy book and casually flipped through a couple of pages.
Inside, there were densely packed diagrams of human structure.
But they weren't the muscles and bones he was familiar with; they were strange lines and black dots labeled with obscure names.
"Is this... a book for acupuncture?"
Uncle Ben was a bit bewildered. "Zusanli? Hegu point? Qihai? What are these?"
As an American veteran living in the Western World,
his understanding of Traditional Chinese Medicine
was limited to acupuncture and cupping in Chinatown—he knew it was some kind of mysterious Eastern medical art, but nothing more.
"You can think of it that way," Peter nodded and patiently explained.
"Uncle Ben, you need to understand that the concepts of Eastern and Western martial arts are fundamentally similar."
"Usually in the East, true martial arts masters are often also medical masters; martial arts and medicine are not separated."
"Western combat arts, like boxing, jujitsu, etc., are also similar, based on the principles of human mechanics."
Peter pointed to the book in Uncle Ben's hand.
"It's the same principle as needing to understand muscle structure, nutrition, and recovery from sports injuries if you want to train your muscles well."
"If you truly want to grasp the essence of this fist technique,"
"you must re-understand your own body from another perspective—that is, the Eastern system of meridians and acupoints."
After listening to Peter's simple yet profound explanation, Uncle Ben showed an expression of sudden enlightenment.
After all, he was an elite special forces veteran, intimately familiar with human anatomy.
When Peter made the comparison, he immediately understood.
"I see..." Uncle Ben looked at the book in his hands, his expression becoming solemn and reverent.
"It's like having a new map drawn for the body. Before, I looked at the surface buildings (muscles); now I need to look at the underground pipe network (meridians)."
"Exactly, that's the idea," Peter praised.
"However, Uncle Ben, you don't need to rush."
"Although concepts like meridians and acupoints are completely new to you, and memorizing them might feel like reading an ancient scripture,"
"the initial learning doesn't require understanding that much."
The Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist, as a dynamic exercise,
is not difficult to start with; one only needs standard movements, imitating the basic forms reasonably well.
That profound medical knowledge of the human body actually serves more as an auxiliary and elevating function.
One can successfully start even without understanding it at all.
But if one truly wants to cultivate this powerful martial art to a profound realm,
then a large reserve of relevant knowledge is mandatory.
"I will first teach you some basic moves. You can imitate the movements to get a feel for it. As for this book..."
Peter pointed to the copy of the 'Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon'.
"You can treat it as supplementary reading. When you're tired from practicing during the day, flip through it before bed at night and memorize it slowly."
"Once you remember all these acupoints, your fist technique will naturally undergo a qualitative leap."
For Peter, who possessed a system,
this fist technique was directly infused into his mind; muscle memory and theoretical knowledge arrived simultaneously.
When increasing proficiency,
Peter could also directly use the system to add points and upgrade with one click.
But ordinary people like Uncle Ben could only rely on their own sweat and effort, progressing one step at a time through slow grinding.
"Good!" Uncle Ben nodded solemnly and carefully tucked the book
into his personal athletic waist pack,
as if storing a peerless secret manual.
"I will practice the fist technique during the day and study the book at night. Anyway, I'm retired now, I have plenty of time."
After laying the theoretical groundwork,
the two walked to an open space deep within the park.
It was deserted all around, with only the rustling sound of the breeze brushing the leaves.
"Watch closely, Uncle Ben."
Peter took a deep breath, his feet slightly apart, shoulder-width distance.
His body relaxed, his originally upright posture becoming slightly stooped, like a smooth cobblestone.
"The first form of the Flowing Water Rock Smashing Fist—using stillness to overcome movement, like ever-flowing Water."
As Peter's voice fell, he moved.
But the movement wasn't fast; it was almost as slow as an old man practicing Tai Chi in the park.
His hands
traced smooth arcs in the air, the movements expansive and graceful, without the slightest sharp edge.
But it wasn't a soft, showy display.
With every sweep of Peter's hands, the air seemed to flow along with his fingertips.
Within the seemingly slow movements was contained an unending defensive net.
Any attack entering this circle would be guided and deflected by that gentle force, and then...
"Bang!"
Peter's palm suddenly vibrated in the air, and a crisp sound of an air burst suddenly erupted.
This was the instantaneous explosion following extreme slowness!
Soft like flowing Water, yet capable of instantly transforming into a terrifying tidal wave that shatters rock.
This was the true meaning of 'Flowing Water Rock Smashing'.
Chapter 42: The Peeping Daredevil
"Oh my God..."
Uncle Ben was stunned.
He had never seen such contradictory, yet harmonious, martial arts.
"Come on, follow my lead."
Peter stopped his movement, reset his stance, and slowed down.
"Sink your Qi to the Dantian, hold your intention in your palm."
"Don't fight with muscle; imagine your body is Water, flowing with gravity and inertia..."
...
Queens Park.
Sunlight filtered through the lush leaves, and the air carried a faint fragrance of earth, characteristic of freshly mowed lawns.
For Matt Murdock, who was accustomed to the mixed smells of garbage, exhaust fumes, and blood in Hells Kitchen,
the air here was almost luxuriously pure.
A corner of the park.
Beneath a giant, old oak tree, two figures, one old and one young, seemed somewhat out of place.
The young man was wearing loose athletic wear.
His movements were slow, like practicing Tai Chi, but not exactly.
His hands traced smooth arcs in the air, seemingly carrying a peculiar rhythm.
And the old man.
Although his hair was silver, his physique was lean, and he was currently sweating profusely while mimicking the young man's movements.
Even though his actions looked a bit clumsy,
the focus and dedication in his eyes were impossible to ignore.
Occasionally, passersby walked past.
Seeing the scene, most only cast a curious glance before hurrying away.
"It's probably some kind of Eastern health exercise."
In this day and age,
New York lacked for nothing, especially not for eccentrics.
As long as they weren't supervillains wearing spandex who jumped out of the bushes to rob people,
who would care about two people sparring in a park?
The passersby were used to it.
After all,
in this World full of superhumans, two ordinary people practicing martial arts were truly too unremarkable.
However, there are always exceptions.
A faint, rhythmic 'tap, tap, tap' sound slowly drifted along the park path.
It was the sound of a white cane tapping the ground.
A man dressed in a dark gray suit and wearing red sunglasses walked slowly along the path.
He looked to be around thirty years old.
His face was resolute, yet always carried a lingering trace of melancholy.
He walked slowly, every step steady, as if measuring the entire World with his white cane.
Matt Murdock.
By day,
he was a blind lawyer in Hells Kitchen.
Though not wealthy, he was rich in a sense of justice, specializing in cases for the poor who could not afford legal fees.
By night,
he was the "Daredevil," a terror to criminals.
The fearless one who ran on rooftops, using hearing in place of sight to guard the fallen district.
Today,
he was passing by while handling a residents' case.
But when Matt reached the vicinity of the old oak tree,
his steps suddenly halted.
Although his eyes could not see, in his World, everything before him was a hundred times clearer than what ordinary people saw.
That was his unique "radar sense."
The surrounding sounds, smells, temperature changes, and even the faint disturbances in the air currents,
all constructed a clear "3D stereoscopic image" in his mind, composed of sound waves and vibrations.
In Matt's perception,
the young man teaching the martial arts was somewhat... off.
Very off.
When ordinary people punch, even professional boxers, their movements are fierce, direct, and accompanied by the sound of rushing air.
Muscle contractions, bone friction, and heartbeats all emit distinct signals.
But this young man was different.
In Matt's senses, this young man was like a giant vortex, or perhaps a bottomless pool.
Although his movements were slow, every time he swung his arm, the airflow speed around him would subtly change.
That feeling...
was as if he wasn't fighting the air, but rather... commanding it.
"This is definitely not square dancing or health Tai Chi."
Matt's eyebrows behind his sunglasses furrowed slightly.
He leaned his body slightly toward Peter's direction, resting on his white cane, his ears trembling almost imperceptibly.
He "heard" it.
He heard the young man's blood flowing, smooth like a stream but continuous.
He heard that special respiratory frequency; every breath resonated with the surrounding environment.
What shocked Matt even more was...
the trajectory of this power application technique gave him a feeling of familiarity, yet one he could never hope to match.
That was a mysterious power originating from the East.
Matt was not inexperienced.
His master, Stick, was a master of the secret organization "The Chaste."
A blind grandmaster skilled in Eastern martial arts.
Matt had trained under Stick since childhood, learning how to control his senses and fight using ninjutsu.
He had also clashed countless times with the notorious "The Hand," witnessing the bizarre, evil energy emanating from those undying ninjas.
In Stick's telling,
there was a legendary place called "Kunlun."
It was a mystical capital located in another dimension, a true holy land of martial arts.
It was said that
the people there mastered transcendent power, capable of obtaining "Qi" through cultivation.
Shattering steel with a single punch, perhaps even slaying gods.
But even Stick, or the five old monsters of The Hand,
in Matt's view,
though powerful, still remained within the scope of humanity.
It was just that, unfortunately, the martial arts Stick taught him could only be considered third-rate, common folk techniques.
And The Hand, which constantly entangled him,
in essence,
was merely an assassin organization founded by a few renegade disciples who had fled Kunlun.
Therefore,
Matt had never truly witnessed a martial art that directly pointed toward the transcendent Great Way before today.
But today!
His intuition was screaming and warning him with an unprecedented intensity!
And the martial arts displayed by this young man before him...
were too pure.
As yielding as Water, yet containing the rigid force capable of crushing rock.
There was no superfluous killing intent, only a natural rhythm akin to the "Dao."
"Is this... perhaps the legendary, true Kunlun martial art?"
A massive wave surged in Matt's heart.
"It's even more profound than what Stick taught me! This man's martial arts are simply an art form."
Even though he was dozens of meters away, even though the young man looked ordinary,
Matt's intuition told him.
This young man was extremely dangerous, and extremely powerful.
He was like a mountaineer standing at the foot of a mountain, gazing up at a high peak shrouded in mist.
That yearning for a higher level of power made Mattinvoluntarily stop and stare intently.
He needed power too much.
As Daredevil, although his physical fitness far surpassed ordinary people and his senses were acute, he was ultimately still flesh and blood.
Facing the sheer crushing power of Kingpin, the undying ninjas of The Hand, and even criminals possessing superpowers,
he often felt powerless and ended up covered in wounds.
If only he could learn this style of martial arts...
Matt's fingers gripping the white cane involuntarily tightened, his knuckles turning slightly white.
He even forgot that he was a blind man.
Forgot that he should maintain a low profile.
He just stared straight in Peter's direction, trying to capture every detail with his radar sense.