I, the God of American Comic Book Blind Boxes, Startled Spider-man at the Very Beginning
Novel Summary[System blind boxes + multiple heroines in a chaotic love triangle + hilarious + invincible crushing victory]
"My name is Aaron, and I'm not panicking at all. Although I've transmigrated into Peter Parker's best friend, I'm bound to the [Multiverse Blind Box System]!"
By altering the plot and intercepting the opportunities of superheroes, you can unlock incredible rewards!
He steals the Venom symbiote at the start, saves Gwen in the process, and immediately gets the school beauty to fall for him!
"Ding! Opened a God-level Blind Box, obtained [Max Level Chaos Magic]!"
While the Avengers were still struggling to fight aliens, Aaron had already built an extraordinary team of goddesses by opening blind boxes, creating a daily spectacle of chaos.
Green Goblin: "Oh my god! He just casually tossed me a blind box item and I was instantly killed!"
Spider-Man: "Aaron, why are you a million times better than me even though all you do is date?"
Aaron shrugged: "There's nothing I can do, I, the ultimate blind box god, am just that invincible!"
Chapter 1: My desk mate Peter was just bitten by a spider, and I awakened the blind box system!
"Students, do not press your faces against the bulletproof glass."
The tour guide in a white lab coat tapped on the glass, making a dull thud.
The third biological laboratory of Osborn Enterprise.
A pungent smell of medical alcohol lingered in the air all year round.
Aaron had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders leaning against the metal railing. He yawned, looking at the cold-toned fluorescent lights on the ceiling.
He had transmigrated here for more than half a year.
There was no surviving a catastrophe, no old master passing down cultivation. Every day's routine consisted of math quizzes at Midtown High School and dry cheese sandwiches from the cafeteria.
Until today. This tour of Osborn Tower.
A "click" sounded nearby.
A dazzling flash of light lit up.
Peter Parker was holding a bulky film camera, his entire face almost pressed right up against the petri dish.
He wore black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. Because of his excitement, a layer of white fog misted the edges of the lenses.
"Look at this RNA chain, it's incredible," Peter muttered to himself.
"Peter, you're blocking the way."
Flash Thompson, wearing his high school football uniform, strode over. He deliberately lowered his shoulder and bumped heavily into him.
Peter was knocked off balance, stumbling.
The camera almost slipped from his hands. He flusteredly hugged the lens, his clothes brushing heavily against the metal workbench nearby.
"Sorry, I just wanted to change the angle," Peter lowered his head, his voice strained.
Aaron reached out and grabbed the strap of Peter's backpack.
Pulling him back inside the safety line.
"Save some film, Flash is only interested in the cheerleaders' short skirts," Aaron said casually.
Flash stopped his feet. He glared, his thick knuckles cracking loudly.
The tour teacher happened to patrol over.
Flash let out a cold snort, gave Aaron the middle finger, and turned to walk away.
Peter pushed up his slipping glasses.
"Thank you, Aaron," he said somewhat awkwardly, "but that group of mutation sequences is really rare..."
"Peter, quiet."
Aaron rubbed his ears.
He had no interest in genetic engineering. He only cared about what was inside the glass cabinet.
The guide was introducing: "This is our bred super spider series. Fifteen samples, each fused with different..."
Aaron was counting.
One, two, three...
Inside the glass cabinet, there were only fourteen petri dishes.
One was missing.
Aaron's spine straightened.
He raised his head. His gaze crossed over the guide's Mediterranean hairstyle and swept towards the intricate ventilation ducts.
A spider the size of a fingernail was hanging from a crystal-clear silk thread, slowly descending.
On the spider's back, the red and blue intertwined patterns were striking.
The biggest turning point in Marvel was right before his eyes.
Aaron's palms were sweating. He rubbed them hard against his jeans twice.
Having transmigrated for more than half a year, he had finally waited for this moment.
The spider continued to descend.
It hung right behind Peter's neck.
Peter was completely unaware, still lowering his head to fiddle with the camera's film compartment. The back of his neck was completely exposed to the air.
Aaron's Adam's apple bobbed.
As long as he pushed Peter away, Spider-Man's fate would change.
But he didn't move.
In this World full of aliens and mutant monsters, he needed a Spider-Man to take the heat in front. Peter Parkerwas the best candidate.
The spider landed lightly on Peter's collar.
Eight slender legs wriggled, coming into contact with the warm skin.
Peter's neck shrank slightly.
The next second, the mutant spider opened its upper jaw, and its sharp fangs pierced fiercely in.
"Hiss—"
Peter suddenly gasped a breath of cold air.
He reflexively swung his right palm, slapping the back of his neck with a smack.
Slap.
A crisp hitting sound rang out at the end of the line.
Several classmates in front turned back.
Peter's face turned green from pain. He took two steps back, his back hitting an empty test tube cart.
Creak.
The cart wobbled, and two glass measuring cylinders rolled down, smashing heavily onto the ground into pieces.
"Parker, what are you doing?" The tour teacher strode over.
"N... Nothing. Bit by a bug." Peter tightly covered his neck. Cold sweat flowed down his temples.
He opened his right hand.
That red-and-blue patterned mutant spider fell onto the white floor tiles.
It flipped over. Its eight legs curled up and twitched in pain.
Just at the moment the spider hit the ground.
Inside Aaron's mind, it felt like a thick steel string snapped suddenly.
Hum.
His temples throbbed wildly.
A cold, synthesized mechanical voice directly crashed deep into his consciousness.
[Ding.]
[Detected a change in the World's extraordinary destiny node.]
[Myriad Realms Blind Box System activated.]
Aaron was stunned.
He pinched his palm hard.
His fingernails pierced into his flesh, hurting to the core.
It wasn't an illusion.
Right in the center of his vision, a translucent light screen popped out. There were no fancy light and shadow special effects, only a few lines of minimalist white characters.
[Novice Quest: Intercept the first extraordinary opportunity.]
[Requirement: Touch the mutant spider's shell before it dies.]
[Quest Countdown: 30 seconds.]
In the upper right corner of the light screen, blood-red numbers began to jump.
29.
28.
Aaron looked down at the ground.
That mutant spider was still twitching. But the amplitude was getting weaker and weaker. Peter's slap had quite some force, and it was dying.
The trouble was that the tour teacher and two other classmates were surrounding Peter to check on him.
Flash Thompson also crowded over.
His big foot in heavy sneakers was less than half a meter away from the spider on the ground.
"Parker, you soft-shelled shrimp, you can't even stand steady." Flash mocked as he took a step forward.
The shadow of his sole was about to cover the spider.
20.
19.
Aaron didn't hesitate at all.
He suddenly stepped forward, putting strength into his shoulders, and forcefully squeezed between Flash and Peter.
"Excuse me."
Flash's shoulder tilted from the bump, and he cursed loudly.
Aaron turned a deaf ear. He took the momentum to kneel on one knee.
His knee smashed heavily onto the hard floor tiles, making a muffled thud.
Before Flash's sole could land, he reached out his right hand and grabbed the spider on the floor tiles.
Rough. With a slight fuzzy pricking sensation.
The spider struggled in his palm, its remaining strength prompting it to try opening its fangs once more.
Aaron pinched its abdomen with two fingers and gave it a hard pull, picking it up from the ground.
12.
The countdown froze.
[Quest Completed.]
[Successfully intercepted the extraordinary opportunity.]
The mechanical voice exploded in his mind.
Aaron let out a long breath of foul air. He stood up, placing his right hand holding the spider behind his back.
"Aaron, what are you squatting on the ground for?" The tour teacher stared at him with a frown.
"My shoelace untied." Aaron didn't change his expression.
He reached his hand into his pants pockets.
Under the cover of the fabric, he tore off a bunch of tissue paper, tightly wrapped that dying mutant spider inside, and stuffed it into the deepest part.
No one noticed his little movement.
Everyone's gaze was attracted by Peter.
Peter's condition was very bad right now.
His entire body leaned against the wall, his legs trembling, gasping heavily for breath.
"Teacher... I feel very hot." Peter's voice was hoarse.
The genetic modification was starting to fuse.
The tour teacher panicked and immediately assigned two strong boys to support Peter.
"Hurry, take him to the infirmary outside."
The crowd dispersed, surging out of the laboratory.
Aaron walked at the very end of the line. He slowed his pace, concentrating all his attention on the light screen in his mind.
[Host touched the primary mutation totem.]
[Novice blind box has been issued, open it?]
In the center of the light screen, there was an extra dusty paper box icon.
A red question mark was drawn on it.
Aaron clicked open in his consciousness.
The paper box burst open with a roar.
Turning into a dazzling cluster of golden data streams.
[Opening the novice blind box.]
[Congratulations on obtaining: Conceptual-grade anti-venom suit (perfect fusion version).]
The golden light converged.
A pure white teardrop-shaped icon quietly floated in the system inventory.
Aaron bit down hard on the tip of his tongue.
A rusty bloody taste spread through his mouth.
Anti-Venom.
An insoluble suit in the Marvel Universe.
Physical immunity, disease healing, innate suppression of the Symbiote. Most importantly, it was the perfect fusion version, without any side effects or consciousness interference.
Whenever he wanted, the pure white suit could instantly cover his entire body.
In this high-risk World, he had completely gained a firm foothold.
Aaron closed the light screen.
After confirming the reward, he put his hands into his pants pockets, preparing to leave the laboratory.
Only a few centrifuges were still humming and operating in the laboratory.
Just at the moment he turned around.
His shoulder was suddenly lightly patted by someone.
Aaron stopped his steps and turned his head.
Coming into view was a dazzling head of blond hair.
A faint scent of vanilla drifted in the air.
Gwen Stacy stood behind him.
This stunning campus belle of Midtown High School was pinching a tour guide in her hand.
She did not look at Peter, who was being supported away.
She looked at Aaron, a conspicuous blush floating on her fair cheeks.
Chapter 2: Intercepting Gwen's Favorability, Rolling a Conceptual anti-venom suit
Gwen stood behind Aaron, holding a tour guide in her hand.
"Aaron, um..."
As soon as she spoke, an elderly janitor pushing a stainless steel cleaning cart hurried past beside them.
The wheel got stuck on the glass shards of the test tube Peter had just shattered.
The cart body violently tilted to one side, and a long-handled mop swept across horizontally, heading straight for Gwen's shoulder.
Gwen was startled and instinctively stepped back.
Her canvas shoes stepped on a puddle of sticky culture medium, her ankle violently twisted, and she lost her balance and fell backward.
Aaron reacted very quickly.
He took half a step forward, extended his left arm, and steadily wrapped it around Gwen's waist.
It was very soft, carrying a gentle warmth through the thin sweater.
A faint hint of vanilla drifted into his nostrils.
Gwen was still shaken, her hands instinctively grabbing Aaron's arm.
She looked down at the mess on the ground, then looked up at Aaron, the blush on her face spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
"Sorry, I'm so clumsy." She quickly straightened up and flusteredly tidied the stray hair by her ear.
"It's not your problem." Aaron let out his hand and stepped back half a step, "Osborn's cleaning service is clearly not as reliable as their genetic engineering. Slide two more meters, and you could get credits for figure skating."
Gwen froze for a moment.
She let out a chuckle.
The tension and embarrassment completely dissipated in this joke.
She pursed her lips and rolled the crumpled tour guide in her hand into a paper tube.
"You're really humorous. Peter used to say you were a man of few words, looks like he misjudged you."
She glanced at Aaron's upright posture and cleared her throat, "For the weekend's physics quiz, I didn't understand your solution for the last question. If it's convenient... can you explain it to me in the library tomorrow?"
Her gaze drifted a bit, staring at the copper buttons on Aaron's jeans.
Aaron looked at this blonde campus belle.
In the original work, at this point in time, Gwen should have chased after the bitten Peter to the infirmary to show concern, thereby kicking off the emotional line between the two.
Now, she was standing in front of him, finding an excuse for tutoring.
"Alright. Tomorrow morning at nine, I'll bring two cups of hot cocoa over." Aaron nodded decisively.
Gwen's eyes lit up.
She bit her lower lip, nodded, and turned to walk toward the laboratory door with brisk steps.
Watching Gwen's back disappear around the corner of the corridor.
In Aaron's mind, that taut string was plucked once again.
[Ding.]
[Detected that the host has drastically altered the emotional line trajectory of the original key character 'Gwen Stacy'.]
[Successfully intercepted Peter Parker's initial favorability.]
[Destiny line stripped. God-tier blind box has been issued.]
The light screen popped up.
A blind box exuding a dark golden glow lay quietly in the virtual grid.
The surface of the box was carved with complex starry patterns, countless times more high-end than that novice blind box from just now.
Aaron licked his dry lips.
"Open." He chanted silently in his consciousness.
The dark gold blind box didn't explode.
It melted like snow and ice, turning into a drop of pure, flawless white liquid.
The liquid dripped down within the light screen.
[Obtained reward: Conceptual-grade anti-venom suit(complete host binding).]
The next second.
Aaron felt his heart violently gripped by a powerful large hand.
A bone-chilling coldness exploded from his chest, rushing wildly along his arteries toward all limbs and bones.
He let out a muffled grunt, slid down against the wall, and knelt on one knee on the ground.
The blue veins on the back of his hands bulged one by one.
This feeling didn't hurt, but it was suffocatingly bloated.
A dense tingling sensation came from deep within his bone marrow, as if countless tiny ants were reshaping his cells.
His vision became somewhat blurry, and then instantly became incomparably clear.
The reflection of the glass shards on the floor, the buzzing sound in the ventilation ducts, and even Peter's heavy breathing in the infirmary a dozen meters away.
All poured into his brain like a high-definition signal.
Five minutes later, the transformation ended.
Aaron supported himself against the wall and stood up.
He looked down at his hands.
A very faint layer of white stratum corneum appeared on the surface of his skin, and vanished back into the skin a few seconds later.
With a thought in his mind.
A pure white, viscous tentacle extended from the fingertips of his right index finger, like a living snake, twisting flexibly in mid-air twice before quickly retracting back into his body.
Anti-venom.
It was not only a suit, but also became a part of his body.
Without any rejection, it was as obedient as a finger.
Aaron clenched his fists.
The air in his palm was squeezed to produce a short sonic boom.
Without needing a mutated spider, his current strength had already far exceeded human limits.
...
Half past five in the afternoon.
The dismissal bell at Midtown High School had rung a long time ago.
The setting sun in Queens dyed the mottled red brick walls a dark orange.
Carrying a backpack, Aaron turned into an abandoned dead-end alley where no one usually walked.
A few rusted trash cans were piled at the corner of the wall, and there was a faint smell of urine in the air.
He threw his schoolbag on the ground and stretched his shoulders.
His cervical vertebrae made a crisp cracking sound like popping beans.
He had to test the limits of this conceptual-grade suit.
Aaron walked up to the red brick wall of an abandoned factory building.
The wall was heavily weathered and covered with dead ivy.
He took a deep breath and pulled his right arm back.
Without any run-up, exerting force from his waist, he punched straight into the wall.
Without using the anti-venom wrap, relying purely on the physical strength modified by the suit.
Boom.
A muffled sound.
The entire wall trembled fiercely.
The wall skin fell off in rustles.
Aaron withdrew his hand.
The hard red brick was smashed into a depression a dozen centimeters deep.
The crushed brick fragments at the edges turned into uniform powder.
His knuckles didn't even leave a single red mark.
It was just like punching a piece of soft bread.
This was a bit outrageous.
Aaron rubbed the brick dust on his hands.
When Spider-Man in the original work first awakened, his strength was definitely not this exaggerated.
The basic amplification of this anti-venom suit to the physical body was at a monster level.
He took two steps back.
He raised his head and looked at the roof of the abandoned factory building six stories high above his head.
With a thought turning.
A layer of pure white Symbiote substance crawled up along his neck, instantly covering his whole body.
No terrifying fangs, no exaggerated muscle bulges.
It was just an extremely form-fitting white suit with a matte finish on the surface.
The eye parts were two black inverted triangular crystals.
His vision was completely unaffected, and instead carried thermal imaging and night vision filters.
Aaron slightly bent his legs.
His thigh muscles tightened abruptly, and the dust on the ground was blown away in a circle by the airflow.
Bang!
He stepped out a shallow pit in place, and his entire body shot up into the sky like a white cannonball.
The wind whistled in his ears.
The height of six stories, he vaulted over it in a single bound.
His body reached the apex in mid-air and began to fall.
Aaron extended his right hand, and five fingers casually hooked onto the concrete edge of the factory roof.
His fingers embedded into the cement like cutting tofu.
He hung in mid-air with one hand, suspended twenty meters high.
The wind blew across his pure white suit.
He looked down at the matchbox-like trash cans at his feet, and a surge of exhilaration welled up in his heart.
The mortgage he refused to back down from in his past life, the subway he couldn't squeeze into in the morning.
All became bad debts of his past life in this single bound.
In this Marvel Universe, with this cheat, besides himself, who else could make him wronged?
Aaron pushed off the edge of the roof and flipped onto the rooftop.
He ran two laps on the rooftop and tested the anti-venom's transformation ability.
His hands could turn into sharp white long blades, or transform into an indestructible round shield.
Sharp white barbs could even extend from his shoulder blades.
As he pleased.
More flexible than an arm.
Tested for half an hour.
The suit faded, turning into a trace of white light shrinking back into his pores.
Aaron put on that lazy high school student look again.
He patted the dust off his clothes and climbed back down the iron ladder of the fire escape into the alley.
Picked up the schoolbag on the ground and slung it over one shoulder.
His stomach growled.
Transforming his body consumed a huge amount of energy, and now he was hungry enough to swallow a cow.
First go to the convenience store ahead to buy two hot dogs to pad his stomach, and then go buy some high-end steak.
While pondering dinner, Aaron walked out of the dead-end alley.
On the street outside, the streetlights just lit up.
The dim yellow light hit the asphalt road surface.
The wind started blowing.
The autumn night breeze carried a hint of coolness.
With his hands tucked into his pants pockets, Aaronwalked forward along the sidewalk.
Just as he was about to walk to the street corner.
Bang!
A muffled gunshot unceremoniously tore through the tranquility of the neighborhood.
The gunshot was very close.
Right in the narrow alley beside the convenience store fifty meters ahead.
Aaron stopped his steps.
His Super Hearing instantly captured the movement in the alley.
The sound of shattering glass bottles, hurried footsteps.
Immediately following, an old, hoarse cry for help filled with extreme panic came out.
"Help!"
Chapter 3: Anti-trope! Saving Uncle Ben casually at the start, Peter is shocked.
Following the gunshot from the previous chapter.
The old man's cries for help still echoed in the alley.
The asphalt under Aaron's feet was stamped into a dent.
The soles of his leather shoes made a harsh friction sound.
The White Symbiote material, like a thin film, instantly climbed along his calf muscles, covering his legs and waist.
There was no need for complete possession.
Just providing explosive power was enough.
The night wind cut across Aaron's cheeks like a knife.
He turned into a white afterimage and plunged straight into the dim narrow alley beside the convenience store.
The alley was filled with a sour smell of beer and a faint scent of gunpowder.
Streetlights couldn't shine in here.
Borrowing the neon light leaking from the street corner, Aaron saw the scene ahead clearly.
A tall, thin man wearing a yellow beanie had his back to him.
The man's hands were shaking violently.
He was clutching an old-fashioned revolver in his hand.
The muzzle was still emitting a wisp of White smoke.
The shot just now had missed, blasting a bullet hole in the adjacent red brick wall.
The muzzle was now pointing straight at an old man two steps away.
The old man had graying hair and wore a washed-out brown jacket.
He leaned against a dirty trash can, his hands tightly covering his chest.
His chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath.
At his feet was a torn brown paper bag.
Several round oranges rolled out, soaking in the sewage puddle nearby.
"Wallet! Give me the wallet in your jacket!"
The beanie-wearing thug's voice cracked, carrying obvious hysteria.
He pressed his thumb back, cocking the hammer of the revolver.
Click.
A crisp mechanical engagement sound.
Uncle Ben.
Aaron recognized that brown jacket.
In the original work, this old man should be lying in a pool of blood tonight, trading his life for Peter Parker to hear the phrase "With great power comes great responsibility".
Aaron didn't shout "Stop", nor did he say any nonsense.
Making a sound at this time would only provoke the thug to pull the trigger.
He tipped his toes on the ground, his figure like a hunting cheetah, silently pressing forward.
Three meters away from the thug.
Aaron pulled his right arm all the way back.
The White Symbiote material instantly surged onto his right fist, wrapping around his knuckles to form a hard layer of White armor.
One meter away.
The thug seemed to sense the wind from behind and whipped his head around.
He only saw an increasingly large White fist.
Aaron punched out.
He didn't hit the head.
He was afraid of smashing a man's head with one punch and getting blood all over himself.
The fist squarely struck the thug's right hand holding the gun.
Bang!
A teeth-gritting sound of metal breaking rang out.
The barrel of the high-grade steel revolver bent directly into a ninety-degree angle.
The immense impact poured along the gun body into the thug's arm.
The thug didn't even have time to scream.
His entire body was hit as if by a high-speed dump truck.
His feet left the ground as he flew backward.
His back slammed hard against the red brick wall deep in the alley.
Boom.
The brick wall vibrated violently, and dust fell down in rustles.
A shallow pit was smashed into the wall, and dozens of cracks spread like a spiderweb.
The thug slid down the wall to the ground like a puddle of mud.
His gun-holding right arm hung limply, and he passed out completely.
Aaron withdrew his right hand.
The White material covering his fist quickly faded and retreated into his pores.
He shook his wrist.
He still didn't control his strength well.
He only used ten percent of his strength with that punch just now, almost collapsing the wall.
Uncle Ben leaned against the trash can, his legs turning weak as he slowly slid down to sit on the ground.
He opened his mouth wide, looking at the thug embedded in the wall, and then at the high school student standing in front of him.
Cold sweat plastered his hair against his forehead.
"It's okay, sir."
Aaron walked over and bent down to pick up the oranges on the ground.
Just at this moment.
A violent commotion came from the iron fire escape ladder overhead.
Clang.
An unstable empty flowerpot was kicked down, smashing into pieces near Aaron's feet.
A figure clumsily jumped down from the third-floor iron ladder.
The posture was extremely ugly.
He didn't stand steady upon landing, staggering forward a couple of steps and crashing headfirst into the trash can nearby.
Spilling the stinking food waste inside all over the ground.
"Cough cough... Uncle Ben! Are you alright!"
The newcomer brushed away the banana peel on his head and shouted in a panic.
He wore a loose gray hoodie with the hood pulled halfway.
The black-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose were crooked to one side.
It was precisely Peter Parker, who had just been bitten by a spider, whose body had mutated, and who had run all the way here relying on his spider-sense.
Peter scrambled and rushed in front of Uncle Ben.
Groping up and down the old man's body to confirm there were no bullet holes, his tense shoulders suddenly slumped.
"Peter? Why did you run over here?"
Uncle Ben caught his breath and stood up, grabbing Peter's arm.
"I... I heard gunshots."
Peter stammered.
He felt a dangerous intuition and sprinted three streets following it.
He ran so fast that even he found it incredible.
Peter turned his head to look at the thug collapsed at the base of the wall.
The spiderweb cracks on the wall were shocking to the eye.
The gun in the thug's hand had become twisted scrap metal.
Peter swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
Shifting his gaze, he finally saw Aaron standing nearby, tossing a dirty orange in his hand.
Peter froze.
He took off his glasses, wiped them on his clothes, and put them back on.
"Aaron?"
Peter's voice rose by an octave.
Aaron shoved the orange into the torn paper bag in Uncle Ben's arms, "Good evening, Peter."
"You... why are you here?"
Peter pointed at Aaron, then pointed at the thug in the corner of the wall, "That guy... did you do that?"
"Obviously."
Aaron patted the dust off his hands.
Peter gasped a breath of cold air.
He had just been bitten by a spider in the lab today and found that his strength had increased, even able to crush the iron pole of a bus flat.
But looking at the pit on the wall, his brain was buzzing.
That was a load-bearing wall.
Punching a person along with a gun into the wall?
This was simply not something a high school student could do.
"You smashed a gun to pieces? And shattered a brick wall?"
Peter rushed forward and grabbed Aaron's arm.
He grabbed very hard.
He didn't control his post-mutation strength.
Aaron felt a vise-like grip coming from his arm.
He raised an eyebrow.
The muscles in his arm trembled slightly.
Peter felt as if he had grabbed a steel plate, the web of his hand shaken numb, and subconsciously released his grip.
"Calm down, Peter."
Aaron rubbed his arm.
"How can this make me calm! Are you a monster?"
Peter rambled incoherently.
He had been desk mates with Aaron at school for more than half a year.
Apart from being slightly handsome, loving to sleep in class, and borrowing his exam papers to copy during every math test, this guy was completely ordinary.
"Read more books, Peter."
Aaron spouted nonsense, "This is called an adrenaline surge."
"What kind of adrenaline can bend a handgun!"
Peter roared in a low voice, his saliva almost spraying onto Aaron's face.
"Can't I just have natural divine strength?"
Aaron stepped back half a step to dodge the droplets, "My Grandpa is from a Texas farm, and I've been able to carry two cows and run since I was a kid."
Peter opened his mouth, unable to squeeze out a single word for a long time.
This excuse was so lame that even a three-year-old wouldn't believe it.
"Aaron, is he your classmate?"
Uncle Ben finally caught his breath and stepped forward.
He recognized this young man.
He was in a class photo Peter had brought home.
"Yes, Mr. Parker. We are desk mates."
Aaron nodded politely.
"Good boy, thank you."
Uncle Ben's eye sockets turned red, "If it weren't for you, Mei would be eating dinner alone tonight."
The old man reached out his calloused hand, tightly grasped Aaron's hand, and shook it twice.
In the distance on the street, sharp Police sirens sounded.
Nearby residents had called the Police.
The red and blue alternating lights of Police cars flickered at the mouth of the alley.
Aaron glanced at the alley entrance.
"The Police are here. Leave the rest to them."
He bent down to pick up the schoolbag on the ground and slung it over one shoulder.
"Aren't you waiting to give a statement to the Police?"
Peter hurriedly asked.
"I haven't had dinner yet. The hot dog stand at the corner ahead is about to close."
Aaron waved his hand, putting his hands into his pockets.
Peter still wanted to chase after him to ask clearly.
Uncle Ben stopped him, "Let the kid go. He must have been scared to death too."
Scared?
Peter looked back at the thug embedded in the wall.
He felt that the thug was the one who was truly scared.
Aaron's figure quickly disappeared into the shadows at the end of the alley.
Peter looked at his trembling hands.
He had thought that being bitten by a mutant spider today and gaining superpowers made him the most special person in the World.
Now it seemed that his desk mate hid secrets even more outrageous than his own.
Early the next morning.
New York's sky was as blue as could be without a trace of clouds.
Sunlight passed through the glass windows of the Midtown High School corridor, casting grid-like light spots on the floor.
There was a pungent smell of cheap floor wax in the air.
Aaron bit half a butter-spread croissant in his mouth, held two cups of hot cocoa in one hand, and strolled leisurely into the teaching building.
Last night he finished off three hot dogs and went to a high-end restaurant to cut two pieces of Wellington steak.
After returning home and lying on a top-tier Simmons big bed, he slept soundly.
The anti-venom suit continuously nourished his body during sleep, leaving him refreshed now, with every cell full of vitality.
Having changed Uncle Ben's death node, the system issued another regular blind box last night.
It unboxed a Colt pistol with auto-aim functionality.
It was casually tossed into a corner of the system backpack to gather dust.
The class bell rang.
Students in the corridor quickened their pace and poured into their respective classrooms.
Aaron walked to the door of his sophomore science class classroom and pushed open the ajar wooden door.
Calculus formulas from yesterday that hadn't been wiped clean still remained on the blackboard.
He walked to his fixed seat by the window in the back row of the classroom.
His gaze swept over.
Aaron stopped in his tracks.
The half croissant hanging in his mouth almost dropped to the ground.
His desk mate, Peter Parker.
Was sprawled out flat on his desk.
That thick Advanced Physics book served as his pillow.
Peter's face was turned sideways toward the corridor.
His left eye socket was swollen like a purple peach.
The corner of his mouth had split open into a bloody wound, forming a dark red scab.
The collar of his gray hoodie was torn in half, revealing a ring of bruises inside.
The whole person looked like he had just been run back and forth over three times by a heavy truck.
Chapter 4: Peter, how did you, Spider-Man, end up in such a miserable state?
Aaron stood by the desk, biting off the last bite of the croissant.
He wiped his fingers twice on his jeans.
He extended his index finger and poked Peter's badly swollen left shoulder.
"Hiss—"
Peter sprang up from the desk like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
His knee hit heavily against the underside of the desk drawer.
The iron drawer made a loud bang.
Several girls in the front row turned their heads and looked at him as if he were a fool.
Peter grimaced in pain.
He gripped his knees tightly with both hands, half of his face wrinkling up like a crumpled piece of waste paper.
He wore crooked black-framed glasses.
The purplish-red bruise around his left eye socket gleamed brightly in the morning light.
Aaron pulled out a chair and sat down.
He casually pushed a cup of steaming hot cocoa in front of Peter.
The bottom of the paper cup tapped against the wooden desk, making a soft sound.
"Were you run over by a garbage truck in Queens?" Aaronasked indistinctly while biting on the plastic straw.
Peter cupped the paper cup like a drowning man clutching at a straw.
The back of his hands were covered in fine abrasions, and there were two band-aids printed with SpongeBob on them.
Aunt Mei had forced those on him.
"It's way worse than that." Peter lowered his voice and leaned his head closer.
"Four thugs with iron pipes. In a dead-end alley on Seventh Avenue in Brooklyn."
He glanced vigilantly at the history teacher on the podium, lowering his voice even further.
"Aaron, I saw you last night... that punch of yours. I figured I could do it too."
A trace of lingering fear flashed in Peter's eyes, but there was more excitement.
"Changes happened to me too. I have great strength and can crawl on walls. I want to help others."
Aaron bit the plastic straw flat.
"So you went out to uphold justice, and ended up getting beaten into a pig's head?"
Peter's face turned red.
Pulling at the wound at the corner of his mouth, he sucked in a breath of cold air again.
"I didn't get beaten up! I'm just... not used to it yet."
He put down the paper cup and gestured in mid-air with two fingers.
"I saw them robbing a homeless man and jumped down. But I overestimated the fire escape of that building. The railing was rusted, and it broke as soon as I stepped on it."
Aaron leaned back in his chair. "And then?"
"Then I screamed and fell into a trash can full of rotten tomatoes." Peter covered his face.
The voice leaked out from between his fingers, carrying a strong sense of frustration.
"Those thugs didn't even use iron pipes. They smashed the nearby iron trash can right on my head."
Aaron almost spat out the hot cocoa in his mouth.
He swallowed his drink and coughed twice.
"You didn't dodge? You ran faster than a rabbit last night."
Peter lowered his hands with a lifeless look on his face.
"I put on a red ski mask. Without cutting holes."
He sighed heavily.
"I originally wanted to use scissors to cut two eye holes. But Aunt Mei knocked on the door outside asking if I wanted pie. I panicked and put the uncut mask straight onto my head."
He pointed to his nose.
"The mask spun halfway around in mid-air. I couldn't see anything. When the trash can was smashed over, I thought the awning had collapsed."
Aaron looked at Peter's miserable state.
This future Good Neighbor of New York was having a completely disastrous starting phase.
He didn't even have a decent suit. He went out to fight crime wearing a ski mask without eyeholes.
"Didn't you fight back using your superpowers?" Aaronasked.
"I did. I punched the brick wall next to me. The wall cracked, and my hand got stuck in the gap between the bricks and couldn't be pulled out." Peter raised his right hand, which was wrapped in a circle of cheap gauze.
"Those thugs laughed so hard their stomachs hurt. They robbed the homeless man of five dollars and poured a cup of leftover coffee on my head before leaving."
Peter's voice grew lower and lower.
"I washed my hoodie in the laundry room for two hours last night. When Aunt Mei asked me why I smelled like a sewer this morning, I could only say I fell into a manhole."
Aaron held back his laughter until his stomach cramped.
His chest heaved up and down.
In this high-risk Marvel Universe, having such a funny deskmate made daily life far from boring.
He reached his hand into his pants pocket.
His fingertips touched a cold, heavy brass key.
At six o'clock this morning, the system sent a prompt on time.
The follow-up reward for changing Uncle Ben's fate line. A bronze-tier regular mystery box.
What came out wasn't a superpower.
Instead, it was a penthouse duplex located in the Upper East Side, Manhattan.
The system readily handled the full set of legal procedures for permanent tax exemption and property management fees, and even stuffed the property deed into the system's virtual backpack.
The key dropped right beside Aaron's pillow.
Eight hundred square meters, with a constant-temperature high-altitude swimming pool, a two-hundred-square-meter viewing terrace, and a whole wall of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti red wine cabinet.
Aaron took out the brass key.
His index finger passed through the key ring and spun it twice in mid-air.
The metal key made a crisp clashing sound.
The contrast was too tragic.
For the sake of upholding justice, Peter couldn't even afford twenty-dollar tactical goggles, and could only be smashed by a trash can while wearing a suffocating ski mask.
He even stayed up late to wash away the coffee stain on his hoodie.
Look at himself again.
He intercepted superpowers at the start and was protected by the anti-venom suit.
He didn't have to do any hard labor. By going to school every day and casually intercepting a few characters, a tens of millions of dollars luxury mansion fell into his pocket by itself.
Peter ate trash in the cold wind, while he unpacked mystery boxes on a soft Simmons mattress.
Aaron felt that this kind of lying-flat life was pretty good.
Peter stared at the brass key spinning rapidly on Aaron's fingers.
"This key looks so retro, made of copper? Did your family change the locks?"
Aaron flicked his finger, gripped the key firmly in his palm, and put it back into his pocket.
"An empty house of a rich relative. Asked me to go over and help air it out." Aaron talked nonsense casually.
"There are so many rich people." Peter sighed.
He took out a dog-eared draft notebook from his worn-out schoolbag.
He turned to a page.
"I need to save money to buy some high-pressure pneumatic valves. I want to make a launcher that can shoot mucus. If I could stick them to the wall last night, I wouldn't have gotten smashed."
The draft notebook was filled with messy mechanical structure diagrams and fluid mechanics formulas.
Peter modified the parameters with a red pen while biting hard on the pen cap.
The plastic pen cap was bitten full of dents.
"The boss of that chemical store on the street corner is too black-hearted. One liter of synthetic polymer spider-web fluid costs thirty dollars." Peter looked distressed.
"My weekly lunch money is only fifteen dollars. I can't even afford a pipe."
Aaron took out his phone and opened a racing game.
"Skipping a couple of meals won't starve you to death. If you want to be a hero, you have to learn to endure hunger." He swiped the screen, and the sports car left a tire track on the screen.
Peter flopped back onto the desk like a salted fish that had lost its dreams.
The history teacher in front of the blackboard was still babbling on about Washington.
Chalk dust danced in the sunlight.
The end-of-class bell for the second period finally rang.
The chaotic footsteps of students and the metal clashing sounds of lockers opening and closing came from the hallway.
A gust of wind blew in from outside the window.
It stirred the draft paper on the desk, making a rustling sound.
There was suddenly an extra scent in the air.
A faint vanilla scent, mixed with a little sweet peach shampoo fragrance.
Aaron turned off his phone screen and raised his head.
Peter smelled it too.
He straightened his body as if electrocuted.
He frantically tugged at the gray hoodie with the torn neckline, trying to use his hair to block the purplish-red bruise around his left eye socket.
Gwen Stacy walked over.
Today she wore a thin white knitted sweater, and a gray pleated skirt on her lower body.
Her long golden hair was tied into a neat high ponytail.
As she walked, the ponytail traced a brisk arc in mid-air.
Several boys who were fooling around in the aisle involuntarily stopped and made way for her.
Peter swallowed a mouthful of saliva.
His Adam's apple rolled up and down.
He covered his stomach with the draft notebook and spoke stammeringly.
"Ge... Gwen. Good morning. I accidentally fell on the street last night, so my face..."
Gwen didn't look at him.
Her gaze passed through the classroom, entirely on Aaron.
She walked straight past Peter's desk. She didn't even stay by Peter's side for half a second.
Peter's hand froze in mid-air, awkwardly scratching the edge of the desk.
That sweet vanilla scent stopped by Aaron's desk.
Gwen's fair fingers grasped a thick blue exercise book.
"Advanced Physics Competition Past Questions Collection".
Slap.
The heavy book was gently placed on Aaron's desktop.
The pages stirred up a breeze, brushing past Aaron's nose.
Gwen's cheeks turned visibly red.
That faint blush spread all the way to her snow-white neck, exceptionally conspicuous against the white sweater.
Her azure-blue eyes stared at Aaron.
Her two hands were behind her back, her fingers intertwined.
Her teeth gently bit her moist lower lip.
"Aaron, can you come to my house to tutor me with my homework this weekend?"
Chapter 5: Gwen Takes the Initiative
Gwen's voice wasn't loud.
Clear, with a slight, unnatural tremor.
But in the quiet classroom during morning self-study, these words were like throwing a handful of salt into a pan of hot oil.
The air instantly boiled.
Peter Parker froze in his seat.
The red-and-blue ballpoint pen in his hand, chewed and dented, dropped onto his desk with a clatter.
The barrel rolled down the slanted wooden desk, hit his old canvas shoes, and bounced into the dust of the aisle.
His mouth was half-open, and his swollen left eye socket looked even more pitiful in the morning light.
Gwen was standing right next to him.
But the girl's gaze completely bypassed him; her blue eyes held only Aaron's reflection.
In the back row of the classroom.
The school bully, Flash Thompson, was spinning a yellow 2B pencil in his hand.
Snap.
He snapped the pencil clean in two.
Sharp wooden splinters dug into his palm, but he was completely oblivious, his bull-like eyes staring intently at Aaron's back.
Jealousy.
A foul, sour smell of jealousy rapidly spread among the boys of the entire sophomore science class.
That was Gwen Stacy.
The undisputed school belle of Midtown High School. Usually, she wouldn't even spare a glance at these hormone-addled boys.
Now, she had actually taken her workbook, walked across most of the classroom, and invited a transfer student to her house?
Tutoring?
What high schooler present didn't know what kind of excuse that was?
Aaron leaned back in his chair.
He glanced at Gwen's reddening earlobes, then swept his gaze over the thick "Advanced Physics Competition Past Papers Collection".
"Sunday morning at nine o'clock," Aaron said in a steady tone. "I'll bring two cups of hot cocoa. Do you want marshmallows?"
Gwen's eyes lit up.
She nodded vigorously, her tense shoulders relaxing.
"Yes, please. Thank you, Aaron."
Not daring to look at the expressions of the boys around her, she turned and walked back to her front-row seat with light steps.
The hem of her pleated skirt traced a beautiful arc in the air.
Peter slumped back into his chair like a puddle of mud.
He ran both hands through his messy hair, giving it a frustrated tug.
"She didn't even look at me," Peter mumbled, his face buried in his arms, his voice muffled and bitter.
"She didn't even ask how I got the bruises on my face."
Aaron picked up the hot cocoa on his desk and took a sip.
"Study more, Peter." Aaron tapped the edge of Peter's desk with his plastic straw.
"Once you solve the equation for the synthetic polymer web-fluid, maybe she'll look at you a couple more times."
Peter snapped his head up, a spark of fighting spirit reigniting in his eyes.
He flipped open his tattered notebook, grabbed a new pen, and began frantically writing down fluid dynamics formulas from memory.
Aaron looked at his seatmate's pumped-up state and smiled silently.
...
Sunday morning, 8:50 AM.
Forest Hills, Queens.
Tall maple trees lined both sides of the street. As the autumn wind blew, red fallen leaves blanketed the clean concrete sidewalk.
Aaron was carrying a paper bag printed with the Starbucksmermaid.
Inside were two cups of piping hot cocoa and two muffins dusted with powdered sugar.
He walked up to a two-story white detached Villa with a private garage.
House number 104.
The lawn was neatly manicured, and the mailbox by the entrance was printed with the surname "Stacy".
Aaron walked onto the porch and rang the doorbell.
Ding-dong.
The heavy thud of leather shoes echoed from inside.
It wasn't the light sound of Gwen's slippers.
Aaron raised an eyebrow.
Click.
The white wooden door was pulled open from the inside.
A burly, broad-shouldered middle-aged man blocked the doorway.
George Stacy. A senior captain of the New York Police Department.
He wore a gray, thick-knit turtleneck sweater.
In his left hand, he held a black mug printed with the New York Police Department badge.
Most conspicuously, a black leather holster hung prominently from the belt of his dark gray casual trousers.
Although he hadn't drawn his gun, the oppressive aura of someone who spent years catching criminals on the front lines pressed forward like a wall.
George stared down at Aaron.
His sharp gaze swept from Aaron's hair, down to the Starbucks paper bag in his hand, and finally stopped on his face.
"Aaron Parker?" George's voice was deep, filled with intense scrutiny.
"Good morning, Captain Stacy." Aaron's expression remained normal as he met his gaze without flinching.
"I'm here to tutor Gwen in physics."
George took a sip of his coffee.
"Her physics grade last semester was an A." He snorted. "She doesn't need anyone's tutoring. Especially on a weekend morning."
Aaron shrugged.
"The wave function collapse in quantum mechanics can indeed be a bit confusing. Captain Stacy, if you are proficient in the Schrödinger equation, I can leave the hot cocoa now and head back home."
George's fingers tightened around his mug.
His knuckles turned slightly white.
Just as he was about to retort, hurried footsteps came down the stairs.
"Dad! What are you doing?"
Gwen ran over, wearing loose light-gray loungewear and plush slippers.
She pushed George, who was blocking the doorway, aside.
"Aaron, come on in. It's windy outside."
Gwen grabbed Aaron's arm, pulling him into the entryway, then turned to glare at George.
"Dad, go fix the lawnmower in the backyard. Stop scaring my classmate."
George watched his daughter protectively defend Aaron, his lips twitching twice.
He set his mug down heavily.
"The bedroom door must stay open," George gritted out through clenched teeth before turning to walk toward the backyard.
On the second floor, in Gwen's bedroom.
The room was tidier than Aaron had expected.
Light pink striped wallpaper. By the window sat a wide, white solid-wood desk.
On the corkboard next to it, several Polaroid photos and some band posters were pinned.
The air was filled with a rich scent of vanilla, exactly the same as the fragrance on her.
The two sat side by side at the desk.
They were very close.
Aaron could even feel the warm breath emanating from Gwen.
Gwen chewed on the end of her pen and pushed the thick competition workbook in front of Aaron.
"Page seventeen, the last major problem. I calculated it three times, but the rate of change of magnetic flux never matches up."
Aaron glanced at the problem.
The anti-venom suit had modified his physical body, and along with it, significantly enhanced his brain's computational capacity.
To him, this high-school-level physics competition problem was as simple and clear as one plus one equals two.
He picked up a black gel pen.
He quickly jotted down two lines of formulas on the scratch paper.
"Look here. You reversed the direction of the Lorentz force, which caused you to miss a negative sign during integration."
Aaron's voice was steady.
Gwen leaned in closer.
Half of her body was almost pressed against Aaron's arm.
Her golden hair fell down, brushing against Aaron's cheek, tickling him.
"So that's where it was..." Gwen suddenly realized.
She turned her face to look at Aaron.
Their noses were less than ten centimeters apart.
Just as the atmosphere was subtly heating up.
Deep in Aaron's mind, a sharp electronic synthesized sound suddenly rang out.
Buzz.
It felt like a steel needle piercing his temple.
[Ding.]
[Detected that a major plot node of the World has begun to unfold.]
[The competition for the Military contract at Oscorp has reached a fever pitch. The test of the prototype Green Goblin glider is about to spiral out of control.]
[Triggered time-limited interception quest: Stop Norman Osborn's mad Carnage.]
[The quest reward blind box has been advanced and delivered to the system space.]
Aaron's hand holding the pen froze.
The pen tip bled a black ink spot onto the white scratch paper.
A translucent light screen expanded directly in front of his retina.
In the center of the screen, a metal blind box emitting a dark red glow floated quietly.
The surface of the blind box was covered with patterns resembling integrated circuits, exuding a strong sense of technology.
The system quest had been triggered.
In the original plot, to secure the Military contract, Norman Osborn injected himself with the human enhancement formula and stole the Green Goblin glider.
Today, he would go on a killing spree at the Times Square Aviation Expo.
This was the debut of the Spider-Man series' most important villain.
Aaron's mind was now entirely occupied with how to find an excuse to leave this place and rush to Times Square.
He stared at the transparent light screen in front of his eyes.
Checking the reward description of that dark red blind box.
But from Gwen's perspective.
Aaron was currently turning his face, his gaze staring blankly and directly at her lips.
One second.
Two seconds.
The two cups of hot cocoa on the desk were still emitting white steam.
The room was so quiet that only the "tick-tock" of the quartz clock's second hand on the wall could be heard.
Gwen's breathing slowed down.
Her fingers holding the ballpoint pen turned slightly white, and a thin layer of sweat broke out on her palms.
She didn't pull away.
Instead, as if under some sort of spell, she tilted her chin up slightly.
A trace of panic flashed in her deep blue eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a stubborn expectation.
She slowly closed her eyes.
Her long eyelashes trembled slightly in the air.
Her soft pink lips parted slightly.
Their breath intertwined in this small space.
Aaron's thoughts were instantly pulled back.
He clearly saw Gwen's current posture.
The dark red glow of the system screen overlapped with Gwen's flushed cheeks.
The atmosphere was intimate to the extreme.
As long as he leaned forward just a few more centimeters, he would be able to touch that softness.
Aaron's Adam's apple bobbed.
He admitted that, at this moment, he hesitated.
Green Goblin, saving citizens—at this moment, none of it seemed as real as the school belle right in front of him.
He slowly lowered his head.
The distance was still closing.
Five centimeters.
Three centimeters.
Suddenly.
On the bookshelf to the right of the desk.
The small LCD TV, which had been muted and used as a background display, suddenly flickered.
The wildlife documentary playing on it was instantly cut off.
A piercing alarm sound broke straight through the mute restriction, exploding in the quiet bedroom.
"Breaking news! Breaking news!"
A female news anchor's panicked voice came out of the speaker.
Gwen snapped her eyes open as if she had received an electric shock.
She shrank back, her back hitting the wooden chair.
She turned her head in a panic to look at the TV screen.
Aaron also turned his head.
On the TV screen, there was shaky footage captured from high above by a news helicopter.
Below the frame was Manhattan's most bustling Times Square.
The once-bustling open-air aviation expo had now turned into a sea of fire.
Giant glass curtain walls were shattered to pieces.
Billowing black smoke surged into the sky.
"A series of massive explosions has rocked Times Square!"
The female anchor's voice grew sharp and cracked with fear.
The director zoomed in the camera.
Amidst the flying sparks and thick smoke.
A green monster riding a bat-winged glider was hovering in mid-air.
He wore a menacing suit of green heavy metal armor.
In his hand, he clutched a pumpkin bomb glowing with an orange light.
"A green monster riding a glider is destroying the block!"
"He is attacking the Military brass attending the expo!"
"The New York Police Department has already called for SWAT backup! Casualties at the scene are heavy!"
On the TV screen, the Green Goblin let out a spine-chilling, maniacal laugh.
He violently hurled the pumpkin bomb in his hand toward the police barricade below.
Boom!
Another massive fireball rose in the center of the screen.
Chapter 6: Ding! Changing the Green Goblin's fate line, unlocking Superman's Steel Body.
The firelight from the television screen reflected on the bedroom wallpaper.
The female anchor's screams blasted overwhelmingly from the speakers.
Aaron suddenly stood up.
His knee knocked against the edge of the solid wood desk's drawer, producing a dull thud.
The cup of hot cocoa on the desk sloshed.
The brown liquid splashed out, staining the copy of "Advanced Physics Competition Past Questions".
Gwen was startled.
Her hand holding the ballpoint pen trembled, and the tip drew a long black line across the draft paper.
"Aaron? What's wrong?"
She looked at the explosion on the television screen, her face turning pale as her fingers tightly clutched the hem of her sweater.
"I have to go."
Aaron grabbed the jacket from the back of the chair.
"Now? But the news says Manhattan over there..." Gwenstood up and reached out to pull his sleeve.
Aaron turned sideways, dodging her hand.
"I have an uncle working part-time at a restaurant near Times Square. I have to go make sure he's okay."
He casually made up an excuse.
He didn't give Gwen a chance to keep questioning him, turning and walking in large strides down the stairs.
The wooden stairs creaked under his footsteps.
The first-floor living room was in complete chaos.
Captain George Stacy was pulling a black Kevlar bulletproof vest onto himself.
He had a police walkie-talkie clamped against his neck, from which came harsh static interference and the cries for help from front-line police officers.
"All patrol officers, blockade Broadway! The SWAT team must be in place within ten minutes!"
George roared into the walkie-talkie, spitting droplets onto the Velcro of the bulletproof vest.
He drew his service pistol from his waist, cocking it with a click.
Turning around, he happened to run into Aaron running downstairs.
"Kid, stay in the house and don't run around. It's not safe outside today."
Dropping these words, George pushed open the front door and rushed out.
The sirens of the police cars wailed shrilly outside the yard.
Aaron didn't use the front door.
He turned into the kitchen and pushed open the glass sliding door to the backyard.
The cold autumn wind mixed with fallen leaves rushed into his face.
There was a two-meter-high red brick wall in the backyard.
Aaron didn't slow down at all.
He ran to the base of the wall, his toes leveraging a point in the brick crevices.
His whole body soared into the air like a feather, easily clearing the wall and landing in a deserted back alley.
The alley was filled with the sour smell of fermented garbage.
Aaron threw away the jacket in his hand.
"Suit up." He issued the command in his mind.
A layer of fine cold sweat broke out on the surface of his skin.
Immediately after, pure white Symbiote matter surged wildly from the base of his neck.
The viscous white liquid quickly climbed along his muscle textures, wrapping around his torso and limbs, and finally covering his entire head.
Two inverted triangle-shaped black crystals condensed on his face.
Concept-grade anti-venom suit, bonding complete.
Aaron squatted down slightly.
The muscle fibers of his thighs instantly tensed to the extreme.
The concrete pavement under his feet emitted an overburdened cracking sound.
Bang!
A circle of dust exploded in the alley.
Aaron transformed into a white afterimage, charging straight toward the roof of a six-story apartment building.
The sound of the wind turned into a sharp whistling in his ears.
He landed with one foot on the crash wall at the edge of the roof.
The red bricks shattered into powder under his feet.
Without stopping, exerting force from his waist, his entire body catapulted toward the roof of the next building.
Crossing blocks.
The jumping distance exceeded fifty meters.
On the street below, police cars and ambulances jammed into a long line.
Car horns blared all around.
Aaron stretched his body in mid-air.
The anti-venom suit absorbed the resistance in the air, making him like a white cruise missile, crashing straight toward the center of Manhattan.
The smell of burnt rubber began to appear in the air.
Two kilometers ahead, rolling black smoke pierced straight into the sky like a pillar.
Times Square.
This place had already turned into a battlefield.
The huge open-air aviation exhibition stand was blown and collapsed by half.
Several holographic billboards over a dozen meters high were sparking with electricity, teetering on the verge of collapse.
Broken glass and burning aviation fuel were everywhere on the ground.
"General Slocum! Didn't you say Osborn's aircraft was garbage!"
In mid-air, a green monster stepping on a bat wing-shaped aircraft was circling.
Norman Osborn was wearing the first-generation Green Goblin armor, and his voice came out through a voice changer, as harsh as fingernails scraping a blackboard.
The tail of the aircraft beneath his feet spewed blue high-temperature exhaust flames.
The roar of the engines drowned out the screams in the square.
At the edge of the square.
Several Military Humvees were overturned on the ground.
A white-haired general wearing U.S. Military uniform was lying behind the tire of a Humvee.
The Military cap on his head had long been lost God knows where, and he was clutching the walkie-talkie with a dirt-covered face, calling for air support.
"Let me see if Exploration Aerospace Company's products can save your life!"
Green Goblin laughed wildly.
He made a turn in mid-air, his right hand reaching into the leather tactical bag at his waist.
He pulled out a fist-sized pumpkin bomb.
From the gaps on the surface of the bomb, a dangerous orange glow leaked out.
Green Goblin swung his arm back and threw it fiercely.
The pumpkin bomb traced a parabola in the air, heading straight for the Humvee where General Slocum was hiding.
The bomb's landing point deviated by a few meters.
It smashed in front of a row of metal railings on the side of the Humvee.
Behind the railing, a young mother in a windbreaker was desperately protecting a seven or eight-year-old little girl.
The little girl was tightly holding a dirty plush bear in her hands.
The bomb happened to land right by the little girl's feet.
The orange countdown indicator light began to flash rapidly. Tick, tick.
The young mother closed her eyes in despair, pinning her daughter tightly beneath her.
General Slocum also saw this scene, biting his lips, but he didn't dare to stand up at all.
The last second of the countdown.
A harsh sound of air explosion descended from the sky.
Boom!
A figure carrying the momentum of thunder and lightning smashed fiercely directly above the pumpkin bomb.
The moment of landing, the ground of the entire square jumped along with it.
The paving stones rolled up like water waves.
Almost at the same time.
The pumpkin bomb detonated.
The blinding orange fireball expanded instantly, and the terrifying high temperature and Impact mixed with fragments, swept towards all directions.
That white figure opened his arms, like an impassable city wall, blocking in front of the mother and daughter and the Humvee.
The flames frantically licked the white suit.
Impact crashed against the surface of the suit, producing a series of dull explosions.
Ripples like water waves appeared on the surface of the anti-venom suit.
It was devouring the kinetic energy and heat of the explosion.
The blazing flames stopped abruptly one meter around the white figure, as if hitting an invisible force field.
Several sharp metal fragments ricocheted onto the white back, snapping directly and falling to the ground with a crisp clanging sound.
The aftermath of the explosion blew away a few trash cans in the distance.
Thick smoke rose, blocking the line of sight.
The square was briefly quiet for a second.
Only the burning flames crackled.
In the center of the white smoke.
Aaron straightened his body.
Not a single bit of the flame's high temperature penetrated the suit.
He only felt a slight warmth.
[Ding.]
The mechanized synthetic sound exploded deep in his mind.
Even clearer than the sound of the explosion.
[Timed interception task completed.]
[Successfully prevented Norman Osborn from killing high-level Military officials, significantly changing the villain's destiny trajectory.]
[The advanced task mystery box is officially unlocked.]
On the translucent light screen in front of Aaron's vision.
That dark red metal mystery box clicked, and the lid flipped backward.
There was no light inside, only a profound darkness.
Immediately after, a dazzling golden ball of light emerged from the darkness.
Like a miniature Sun.
The ball of light detached from the mystery box, transforming into a streak of golden light, rushing straight towards Aaron's chest.
Sinking into his body.
[Opened the dark red mystery box.]
[Congratulations on obtaining: Superman Steel Body(Perfect Fusion Version).]
Aaron's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
Afterwards.
Thud!
A heartbeat as heavy as a beating drum exploded in his chest cavity.
Even General Slocum in the distance faintly heard this strange sound.
The flow rate of his blood instantly accelerated tenfold.
Coursing and scouring through his blood vessels like mercury.
Aaron felt his bones heating up.
Starting from the spine, a terrifying heat flow spread to every bone and every inch of muscle fiber.
No pain.
Only a sense of fullness as if cells that had shriveled for countless years were suddenly thrown into the core of a star to crazily absorb water.
The smoke, dust, and burning exhaust gases in the air were inhaled by his lungs.
These exhaust gases were instantly filtered and decomposed by his powerful cells, turning into pure oxygen.
He felt he was no longer a human bound by gravity.
Earth's gravity under his feet now became like a thin thread that could be snapped at any time.
Aaron lowered his head and looked at his palms.
The anti-venom suit wrapped around his hands.
But he could clearly feel that the flesh beneath the suit was undergoing Earth-shaking changes.
His muscles became as dense as a neutron star.
Even if his skin lost the protection of the Symbiote, it could withstand a nuclear blast head-on.
Steel Body.
Kryptonian power, and the system eliminated weaknesses to Kryptonite and magic.
Right now, he was a humanoid fierce beast draped in human skin.
Aaron slowly clenched his right fist.
The moment his five fingers closed, the air in his palm was directly crushed.
Producing a sharp sonic boom.
A gust of fierce wind blew past.
Most of the thick smoke over Times Square was blown away.
That figure wearing the white suit was clearly exposed to everyone's sight.
General Slocum opened his mouth wide.
The mother and daughter on the ground raised their heads, staring blankly at the white back blocking in front of them.
This clothing did not have web patterns.
No one knew who he was.
In mid-air.
The wild laughter on Green Goblin's face froze.
Through the yellow crystal lenses of his mask, he stared intently at the white shadow walking out from the center of the explosion.
How is that possible?
The power of that pumpkin bomb was enough to blow an armored vehicle into parts.
This guy who popped up from nowhere was actually completely unharmed?
Even the white clothes on his body weren't dirty!
A strong sense of humiliation rushed straight to Norman Osborn's brain, which had been burned out by the serum.
He was a perfectionist.
His Carnage show absolutely did not allow any bugs to disrupt it.
"Go to hell!"
Green Goblin let out a hoarse roar.
He slammed his feet down on the aircraft's acceleration pedal.
The engine's exhaust flames changed from blue to a dazzling bright white.
The aircraft dived sharply in mid-air.
Green Goblin pressed the red button on the joystick.
Clack.
At the front of the aircraft, two half-meter-long silver alloy blades ejected.
The blades gleamed with a chilling cold light amidst the firelight.
The turbine engine emitted a harsh screech.
Green Goblin leaned forward, carrying the overwhelming momentum of the dive.
Piloting the aircraft covered in sharp blades.
He smashed straight towards Aaron's head.
Chapter 7: Norman Osborn trying to show off? Smacked straight into the wall.
The piercing scream of the turbine engine tore through the air.
The blue flame at the tail of the Green Goblin glider instantly transformed into a dazzling bright white.
Norman Osborn slammed his foot down on the accelerator pedal.
He leaned forward, pressing his entire body's weight onto the control stick.
The two silver alloy blades popping out from the front of the aircraft slashed out two dazzling white lights in the sunlight.
They stabbed straight towards Aaron's head.
The wind pressure in mid-air blew down to the ground a step early.
The broken glass and dust on the ground were whipped up by the fierce wind, splashing in all directions.
That pair of blades had less than three meters left from Aaron's nose tip.
Aaron stood in place.
He did not bend his knees, nor did he raise his arms to block.
He didn't even blink his eyelids once.
Just a moment ago, the Steel Body merged perfectly.
His senses underwent earth-shaking changes.
In this new World, time seemed to have been pressed with a slow-motion button.
He could clearly see the peeling green baked paint on the edge of the aircraft.
He could clearly see the tiny heat waves generated on the surface of the blades due to high-speed friction with the air.
He could even hear Norman Osborn's heavy panting under the thick armor.
Too slow.
In front of Superman's dynamic vision, this aircraft breaking the sound barrier was simply like an old tractor struggling to crawl in a quagmire.
Behind the Humvee.
General Slocum tightly closed his eyes.
He buried his head in the rough rubber tire and covered his ears with both hands.
He didn't want to hear the terrifying sound of blades chopping up a human body.
The young mother wearing a trench coat hugged the little girl tighter, her tears washing two muddy grooves through the dust on her face.
The next second.
The piercing sound of metal collision exploded right in the center of Times Square.
There was no muffled sound of blades cutting into flesh and blood.
There was only a teeth-grating loud noise, like a locomotive colliding head-on.
Clang!
A huge mass of sparks exploded in a fan shape in front of Aaron's chest.
Two half-meter-long silver alloy blades savagely stabbed onto Aaron's pure White chest.
Then, they stopped.
Not even a single millimeter could be stabbed in.
The terrifying kinetic energy had nowhere to be released, and it all backlashed onto the blade bodies.
The thick alloy blades began to bend from the tips.
With a click.
The two blades snapped cleanly from the middle, and the broken blades flew spinning into the high sky.
The aircraft instantly lost balance.
The engine issued an unbearable whine, the tail flame flickered violently twice, and directly went out.
The Green Goblin glider heavily crashed into Aaron's abdomen, bouncing off violently like hitting a rooted iron tower.
Norman Osborn's entire body trembled violently.
The huge recoil poured into his arms along the control stick.
His ten fingers instantly lost sensation.
The armor's shock-absorbing system issued a shrill alarm.
He frantically regained control of the balance.
The aircraft hovered at a height of one meter off the ground.
He stared fixedly ahead through the yellow crystal lenses.
The smoke and dust dispersed.
That White figure was still standing in place.
Under Aaron's feet, the hard pavement slabs had been stepped out into two half-meter-deep pits.
But he himself did not retreat even half a step.
Even on the surface of the anti-venom suit layer on his chest, not even a single white mark was left.
General Slocum opened his eyes, his mouth wide enough to stuff an apple.
The young mother blankly looked at Aaron's back.
Norman Osborn's brain was blank.
The arrogance brought to him by the super serum was shattered to pieces at this moment.
His proud armor and weapons were like plastic toys in front of this freak.
He bit his lower lip, and the taste of rust spread in his mouth.
"This is impossible!"
The Green Goblin squeezed out a roar from deep within his throat.
He suddenly reached out to touch the tactical satchel at his waist, preparing to pull out all the pumpkin bombs.
He didn't have the chance anymore.
Aaron moved.
Aaron felt a bit bored.
The impact just now was like a breeze brushing across the surface of the water to his current Steel Body.
It couldn't even be considered scratching an itch.
He looked at the teeth-baring and claw-waving Green Goblin in front of him, deciding to end this farce.
He slightly turned his body sideways.
His right arm raised.
Not making a fist, just spreading five fingers, back of the hand facing outward.
Then, casually waving towards the Green Goblin in mid-air.
This was an extremely casual backhanded heavy slap.
The movement was as simple as driving away a fly buzzing around leftovers.
But this was a strike stacked with the anti-venom suit and Superman's Steel Body.
Aaron's arm pulled out a blurry White afterimage in the air.
The moment the arm waved, the surrounding air was forcibly pushed aside.
A circle of White sonic boom clouds exploded at Aaron's wrist.
Bang!
The air emitted a dull explosive sound.
The back of Aaron's hand solidly lashed onto the Green Goblin's side facial armor.
The sound was ridiculously loud.
It was like someone detonating a high-explosive grenade by the ear.
The Green Goblin's head suddenly twisted to the right, and his cervical spine issued a horrifying crackling sound.
That sturdy green metal helmet, the moment it contacted the back of the hand, caved inward directly.
Norman Osborn didn't even manage to let out a scream.
He was slapped flying directly off the aircraft by this overwhelming monstrous strength.
Both feet detached from the fixed pedals.
The whole person turned into a green meteor, flying horizontally across the ground.
He flew past the overturned military Humvee.
He flew past the littered aerospace exhibition booth.
Along the way, he smashed two fire hydrants, and high-pressure water columns soared into the sky.
Boom!
Seventy meters away.
The Green Goblin heavily smashed into the load-bearing pillar of a three-story commercial building.
That was a reinforced concrete pillar with a diameter of over one meter.
The moment of impact, the entire building shook violently.
The glass curtain wall on the second floor was completely shattered, and glass shards poured down like a rainstorm.
The thick load-bearing pillar was directly smashed with a half-meter-deep humanoid crater.
Spiderweb-like cracks spread upward along the wall skin.
Rebars snapped out from the cement, twisting and exposed in the air.
Norman Osborn was deeply embedded in the wall body.
Dust and gravel rustled down, hitting his battered armor.
He looked extremely miserable now.
His proud green heavy armor shattered into dozens of pieces of scrap iron, and the chest armor completely cracked.
The left half of the helmet was completely caved in, and the yellow crystal lenses shattered into a pile of glass shards on the ground.
"Cough... cough cough!"
Osborn coughed violently.
Every time he coughed, a large mouthful of fresh blood gushed out from the corners of his mouth under the mask.
His vision was completely blurred.
His internal organs felt like they had been churned around in a washing machine.
If the super serum hadn't modified his body, this slap would have already slapped his head into a ball of bloody mist.
Fear.
Like a cold venomous snake, it tightly coiled around Norman Osborn's heart.
His crazy Green Goblin personality, in front of absolute violence, was scared back into the deepest part of his consciousness.
This was not a battle at all.
This was unilateral crushing.
He struggled to peel himself out of the wall crater.
Losing support, his body fell with a splat onto the asphalt road full of accumulated water.
He supported the ground with both hands, his fingers digging into the iron grating of the sewer, desperately trying to stand up.
His legs were as soft as noodles.
Aaron withdrew his right hand.
The White substance covering the back of his hand rippled lightly.
He stood in place without pursuing.
He raised his head, looking at that green back struggling in the muddy water like a stray dog.
The Green Goblin pressed the only intact control button on his wrist.
Dozens of meters away, that smoking glider flew over wobbly.
Osborn scrambled and lunged onto the aircraft.
He didn't dare to look back even once.
The engine spewed turbid black smoke, and the glider crookedly rushed into the sky, fleeing in panic toward the direction of the Hudson River.
General Slocum stood up from behind the tire.
He blankly looked at the sky, then looked at the load-bearing pillar in the distance that was about to break.
The whole scene was dead silent.
All surviving citizens held their breaths, looking awe-strickenly at that White back.
Aaron's hands hung at his sides.
He didn't care about the fleeing Green Goblin, nor did he pay attention to the surrounding gazes.
Because the World had changed.
The Super Hearing attached to the Steel Body was completely unlocked at this moment.
The originally quiet square instantly turned into an ocean of noise.
He heard the sound of Police car tires crushing glass.
He heard the faint sound of rats gnawing on leftovers in the underground water pipes.
He even heard the weak pulse beat of a heart patient two hundred meters away.
Aaron frowned.
He concentrated his mind, shielding out those useless noises.
The focus of his hearing began to sweep across the surrounding buildings and shadows.
Soon, he captured a trace of abnormality.
Right on the east side of the square.
In a dim alley blocked by a burned-out bus.
There were no citizens there, nor were there any Police.
There were only three deliberately lowered heartbeats.
Beating very fast, filled with extreme tension and panic.
Accompanied by the heartbeat were heavy breathing sounds and the sound of fabric friction.
Aaron slightly turned his head sideways, his sight piercing through the smoke.
Behind the trash can in the alley.
Three men wearing cheap black suits were squatting in a puddle of dirty water.
That was the attire of the lowest-level informants of the New York underground mafia.
The man in the middle was bald.
Both of his hands tightly held a DSLR camera with a telephoto lens.
The lens was pointing directly at Aaron in the center of the square.
The man's face was pale, and his forehead was covered with cold sweat the size of soybeans.
He witnessed with his own eyes Aaron slapping the Green Goblin into the wall like a fly.
Massive fear made his entire body tremble.
The index finger of his right hand was placed on the camera's shutter button.
His fingers shook violently, slipping off several times.
He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and pressed it down hard.
Click.
The faint mechanical shutter sound rang out at the edge of the noisy square.
A faint red light flashed across the telephoto lens of the camera.