Marvel, Lottery to the Highest Level
Chapter 1: klein
[No brains needed; you've probably donated yours somewhere long ago anyway.]
[Hand over all your kidneys; I heard eating them replenishes what you're missing.]
[Add to bookshelf for a long life. Click for updates to get rich soon. Leave a comment to meet wealth face-to-face.]
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"Mmm... ah... oh yeah!...! Klein, is it... okay... for us to do this... to Peter!"
"Sss... ha... don't worry about... those details... you've already... betrayed him... just focus now... don't think about anything else!"
A quarter of an hour later, klein sat sprawled on the sofa with a cigarette in his mouth, watching Mei clean herself up.
His thoughts gradually drifted back to that night six months ago.
It was a dark and stormy night.
With only the sound of a sudden 'crack' of thunder.
klein's pants were down past his knees, his left hand clutching toilet paper, his right hand gripping his pants.
A few minutes later, finally...
klein closed his eyes with a look of pure enjoyment.
When he opened his eyes again and saw the scene before him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.
If his pants hadn't been down, he would have taken flight.
He had been so focused on pushing just now that he hadn't had time to look at his surroundings.
Who the hell would have thought that taking a crap could transport someone to another place! (Those of you thinking dirty thoughts, go stand in the corner right now and reflect!)
klein was silent for a minute, during which he processed all the information.
He had transmigrated.
Dammit!
Is the Transmigration Bureau out of funds? They didn't even bother with a proper transition?
So sloppy?
Transmigrating because of a stubborn pile of crap?!
Does this make sense? Does it? Does it?
A blockage at the exit could actually block me all the way into another World?!
Is there no justice? Is there no law?
Fortunately, klein had one virtue—wherever he falls, he stays lying down for a while.
His philosophy was to go with the flow; since he was here, he might as well stay.
After finishing up with the paper, he accepted the fact that he had transmigrated.
Pants up, toilet flushed, hands washed.
klein pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out.
A scent of old wood mixed with cheap detergent hit him.
He was currently standing in a space that could barely be called a 'living room plus bedroom'—
If one could call this ten-square-meter area that combined sleeping, eating, and hosting functions a guest bedroom.
The room was indeed cramped.
A sofa bed took up most of the space, and against the opposite wall stood a low wooden cabinet with peeling paint, topped with an old CRT television whose antenna pointed crookedly toward the ceiling.
The window was small, and the lighting was poor; the afternoon sun struggled to squeeze in, casting a small patch of light onto the worn, shiny floor.
But though the room was dilapidated, cramped, and cheap, it was exceptionally clean.
The floor was scrubbed spotless, and the items on the low cabinet—
A few thick textbooks, a mug with a chipped rim, and a stack of supermarket coupons—were all neatly arranged.
Opposite the sofa bed, next to the window, was a small square table that doubled as a dining table and desk, its legs propped up with cardboard for balance.
A copy of 'Intermediate Microeconomics' lay open on the table, its margins filled with dense, neat notes.
Beside it was a photo frame, the glass slightly blurred.
klein picked it up and wiped it.
The photo showed a young Klein (the original host klein had transmigrated into), held between a pair of gentle, smiling parents.
The man had a typical East Asian face, wore glasses, and looked refined; the woman had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a bright smile.
The background appeared to be the lawn of some university.
These were his'sacrificed at the start' parents.
klein stared at the photo for a moment. 'Tsk, starting with a broken house, dead parents, and pockets cleaner than my face—the standard lone star of death template.'
He rubbed his chin and gently placed the frame back.
The memories he received told him that his parents had died in an accident during his first year of high school, leaving behind meager savings and this room.
He had relied on the money they left and desperate part-time jobs to struggle through to his third year of university.
Fortunately, he wasn't burdened with student loans that would take a lifetime to repay.
This transmigration happened entirely because of a cold he couldn't afford to treat, combined with a day of manual labor and a soaking in cold rain after work, causing the original host to kick the bucket after getting home.
Finally, his account was taken over by klein, the visitor from another World who had 'exerted too much force' in the toilet.
It truly was a case of when it rains, it pours; fate specifically mocks the miserable!
Many say that when parents are sacrificed, one's power becomes boundless!
But klein didn't feel anything special after transmigrating.
Because for the month since he arrived, klein had lived a life no different from Klein's—
Endless dishes to wash, endless deliveries to make, endless odd jobs, and endless side hustles. (Skr~ a tribute to Brother Biao!)
He almost thought he had just switched Worlds to continue being a beast of burden, transmigrating for nothing.
Until that day, when his phone rang.
A slightly nervous yet familiar voice came through the receiver:
"Hey, Klein, it's Peter. Um... about the internship after next semester starts, I have some questions I want to ask you, can we meet and talk..."
Peter Parker?
There are many people with the same name, so klein didn't pay much attention and casually agreed to meet at a coffee shop near the school.
When he saw that tall, thin youth with glasses, curly hair, a plain jacket, and a somewhat uneasy expression push open the coffee shop door and wave to him hesitantly while walking over.
klein was still thinking to himself that he looked so much like the movie character, he should just play Spider-Man as himself.
However, the moment their eyes met—
"Ding!"
A clear electronic notification sound rang directly in the depths of his mind without warning.
Immediately after, a semi-transparent screen glowing with a faint blue light emerged out of thin air on his retina, perfectly overlapping with reality.
[Ding!]
[The Myriad Worlds Supreme Lucky Draw System is at your service]
[Detected Marvel key plot character: Peter Parker]
[Identity: Future Spider-Man, Iron Man's godson, the friendly neighborhood of Queens]
[Current Status: Civilian.]
[Prompt: Contacted a plot character. Reward: One lucky draw! Would you like to start the draw?]
"Draw! Draw! Draw! Why wouldn't I? What am I waiting for? Do you know how I've lived this past month? What took you so long?"
[Ding!]
[Drawing for you now! Please wait...]
A compass suddenly appeared on the faint blue light screen in front of klein's eyes and began to spin rapidly.
Then the needle stopped.
[Ding!]
[The reward you received is...]
Chapter 2: The Lucky Draw
[Ding!]
[The reward you have obtained is—Cyclops. Would you like to load it now?]
klein looked at the line of text on the light-blue screen, his breath hitching slightly as his heart beat faster than it should.
Cyclops?!
The first thing that popped into his mind was Superman's heat vision, powerful enough to melt steel and sweep through anything.
Or Homelander's sinister and intimidating red beams... either way, it sounded like an ultimate weapon that could instantly rescue him from his life as a corporate slave.
He subconsciously looked closer at the description text.
The light screen seemed to sense his focus, and a line of small print expanded beneath the "Cyclops" annotation—
[Source of Ability: X-Men Universe - Scott Summers.]
[Traits: Eyes are connected to an Interdimensional energy pool, capable of releasing high-intensity Red concussive blasts. Energy release can be blocked through willpower alone.]
[Warning: Energy release is extremely destructive.]
It was the ability of the X-Men's Captain, Cyclops Scott, who needed special glasses to control his power.
Seeing that it wasn't Superman's ability, klein's excitement dampened a bit.
But eyes connected to another dimension with infinite energy?
That sounded... not too bad?
At least it was better than "generating power with love."
Moreover, this seemed to mean the energy was virtually infinite?!
More importantly, this thing could be actively controlled!
Unlike Scott himself, who needed special eyewear to control it.
"Klein? Klein...?"
Peter Parker's voice pulled him back from the shock of his first encounter with supernatural powers.
klein blinked, and the light-blue system screen on his retina receded like the tide.
He thought to himself—"Don't load it yet!"
He saw that Peter had already walked over to the table, looking at him carefully with a hint of confusion and concern on his face.
"Sorry, Peter. I was just... spacing out for a second." klein gave a slightly tired but friendly smile and pointed to the chair opposite him.
"Have a seat. What would you like to drink? Coffee? It's on me."
"Oh, no thanks, just water is fine." Peter sat down somewhat awkwardly, placing his worn-out backpack on his lap, his fingers unconsciously picking at the strap.
He looked younger and thinner than the image from the movies in his memory, with a hint of nervousness in his eyes behind his glasses.
"Two waters, please." klein gestured to the waiter walking over, then turned back to Peter. "What's the rush? Any news about the internship?"
Peter nodded, then shook his head, his fingers still picking at the backpack strap.
"Actually... I didn't find it. It was Harry—Harry Osborn. You know him, right?"
"Of course." klein raised an eyebrow. "The young master of the Osborn family, a prominent figure at our school. It's hard not to know him. Why bring him up all of a sudden?"
He and Peter becoming friends was, in a way, a case of two negatives making a positive—they were birds of a feather.
Two young men who had both lost their parents early and had to struggle just to barely stay in college...
Both had been repeatedly ground down by fate, bearing similar marks polished by the hardships of life.
It was easy for them to become best friends in college.
"He... Osborn knows I've been worried about an internship for next semester. Then... today he told me that in October, Osborn Industries is having a very important Biotech exhibition, and they need a group of interns to assist on-site."
Peter looked up and pushed his glasses.
"He wants me to go... Klein, I can ask him for an internship spot for you too. I wanted to see what you thought."
klein didn't respond immediately.
He picked up the water glass the waiter had just delivered and took a sip, the cold sensation sliding down his throat.
"No, Peter. Thank you. Really."
"But Klein," Peter leaned forward, his voice urgent. "This is Osborn Industries! An internship related to our major—even if it's just doing grunt work during the exhibition—will look completely different on a resume!"
"And it pays. It's much better than the... odd jobs you're doing now." He clearly knew Klein's financial situation; he didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.
"I know." Klein nodded, his fingers rubbing the water glass.
Peter was telling the truth.
For students like them with no background, a decent internship that could go on a resume was almost the first step toward changing their life's trajectory.
And a favor from Harry Osborn was worth a great deal.
But he looked at the boy before him, thinner than himself and still possessing that student-like look in his eyes.
This future Spider-Man was currently just a kind, somewhat clumsy nerd trying his best to be good to his friend.
"It's precisely because of your relationship with Osborn that I can't go."
klein chose his words carefully, trying not to sound too blunt. "Peter, listen to me. I'm really grateful you thought of me, I truly am.
But you and Harry are friends—equal friends.
He gives you an internship spot, and that's perfectly reasonable. But if you try to squeeze me in too..."
He paused, looking at Peter's somewhat bewildered face, and explained, "If you do that, in the eyes of Harry, or even his father, Mr. Norman Osborn, it might look like you're using your relationship with Harry to push your luck.
It would complicate their perception of you, maybe even... make you look cheap. I don't want our pure friendship to be tainted by that. And I certainly don't want to make things difficult for you with Harry because of this."
Peter opened his mouth to argue, but found that what Klein said... seemed to make sense.
Previously, he had only thought about sharing a good opportunity with a good friend; he hadn't thought that deeply about it.
Harry was easygoing, but he did have the massive Osborn empire behind him.
"But... but..." Peter was still reluctant, his brow furrowing. "This is such a good opportunity, Klein. It's a shame to miss it. And Harry wouldn't think that way; he's a good person..."
"He is a good person, which is why we should cherish his kindness rather than overstepping."
klein patted Peter on the shoulder.
"You go, perform well, learn things, and achieve results. Once you've established yourself and have the opportunity, you can give me a hand then."
Chapter 3 "I want to eat beef"
klein and Peter parted ways at the entrance of the cafe. Watching Peter's slightly dejected back, seemingly guilty for not being able to help his friend, disappear into the noisy afternoon crowd of Queens, klein let out a soft sigh.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans, turned around, and sauntered back toward his apartment.
The afternoon sun filtered through the gaps between the high-rises, cutting alternating patterns of light and shadow onto the dusty sidewalk.
klein kicked a small pebble along the road, letting his thoughts drift aimlessly.
Internship? Internship my ass.
He curled the corners of his mouth. The pent-up frustration from over a month of transmigrating, combined with the novelty and restlessness brought by the newly activated system...
intertwined, bubbling up like the carbonation in a soda.
Before the system, in order to survive in this hellhole, he had to work like a horse, washing dishes and delivering takeout, working himself to the bone. That was unavoidable, a necessity of life.
Now that the system had landed right in his face, why should he still go to the Osborn Industries exhibition to serve tea and water, smiling and fawning over those white folks, all for that meager intern salary and a resume that might or might not be useful in the future...
Wouldn't that mean the system came for nothing? Wouldn't this transmigration be a total waste?
Besides, klein still had pride in his bones.
Working like a horse depends on who you are working for. Back in the great Middle Kingdom, sweating and suffering for the construction of one's own country is an honor.
Here? Contributing to the capitalist World, adding bricks and tiles, contributing surplus value?
Why should he? Is their air sweeter?
He didn't have that kind of enlightenment.
Besides, the October Osborn Technology Exhibition... was the turning point in Peter's fate, the beginning of his journey as New York's five-star model citizen.
This was Peter's opportunity; why should he join in the chaos?
If his interference caused that spider to bite someone else, or caused other problems, that would be a huge mess.
Instead of wasting time being an intern, wouldn't it be better to spend that effort figuring out his newly activated system, thinking about how to develop new uses for this "Cyclops" ability, or planning how to gain a foothold in this dangerous World?
Are the blonde-haired, blue-eyed white girls not hot enough, or are the wheat-skinned Latina girls' smiles not spicy enough? Oh, and those black pearls with unique temperaments...
Ahem! In short, it's a wonderful World with infinite possibilities; why rush to be a beast of burden for capitalists?
Lost in thought, he didn't stop walking. After winding through a few streets, he soon returned to the bottom of his apartment building.
He climbed the creaking stairs and opened the door with his slightly rusty key. A familiar scent, a mixture of old wood and cheap detergent, yet exceptionally clean, rushed toward him.
He closed the door behind him, temporarily shutting out the noise of the outside World.
klein threw himself onto the old sofa bed, his body sinking deep into it as he let out a satisfied sigh.
Although it was dilapidated, this was the only corner in this strange World where he could completely relax.
After lying there for a while, he closed his eyes and sank his consciousness into his mind.
"System." He recited in his heart.
The pale blue light screen appeared silently, hovering steadily within his consciousness.
klein weighed his words carefully and asked the crucial question: "System, which Marvel Universe is this, exactly? The movie Universe? The main comic book Universe? Or some parallel Universe or animated Universe? Or... is it a hybrid?"
This was important. Although the movie Universe was also full of crises, at least the timeline was relatively clear, and the threat level was somewhat controllable.
If it were the comic book Universe... that hellhole where reboots, dimensional collapses, and cosmic Gods fighting happened at the drop of a hat, the survival difficulty would be hell-level.
Or if it were some strange hybrid Universe, the variables would be even greater.
[Ding!]
The system's response rang out immediately, but the tone... it sounded arrogant and nonchalant:
[Host, why do you care what Universe this is? With me, your System Master, here, you can walk through any Universe!]
[Do you know what I am? The Myriad Worlds! Supreme! Lottery System!]
The text on the light screen seemed to bold and flicker, emphasizing its own prestige.
[With me here, you are destined to reach the Dao of Primordial Chaos and attain the Supreme position! A mere Marvel Universe, what is there to be afraid of? The Celestials, the Living Tribunal, they are all small fry! Even if that so-called OAA offends me!]
[I will take it down all the same!]
klein: "..."
He was stunned for two seconds by the system's domineering response. Then, an indescribable sense of chuunibyou surged from the bottom of his heart, instantly dispelling the previous worries and caution regarding the unknown type of Universe.
That's right! What is there to be afraid of?
I am a cheater now! I am a person with a system!
If you're not convinced, fight! At worst, just restart!
Thinking this way, klein suddenly felt his back wasn't sore and his legs weren't hurting. Even looking at this dilapidated room felt more pleasing, as if he saw the starting point of a bright future.
"Makes sense!" klein slapped the sofa armrest and sat up straight, his eyes full of excitement and eagerness.
"Now..." He licked his somewhat dry lips, a rascally smile appearing on his face, "I am going to stop eating beef!"
First is—rob the rich and help the poor!"
klein snapped his fingers, the sound clearly audible in the small apartment.
The poor, of course, is klein himself. He is currently penniless, urgently in need of relief from kind-hearted people.
And the rich... well, the scope is very broad.
Anyone who is richer than him counts as a rich person.
Chapter 4: Gwen Stacy
Over the next few days, a rather strange sight appeared after dark on the relatively quiet streets near Klein's apartment building in Queens.
Klein, wearing his oldest, faded jeans, had his back pocket stuffed with a thick, rumpled wad of loose cash—it was all the money he had, probably less than ten thousand U.S. dollars.
He deliberately let a small corner of the bills stick out. Under the dim streetlights, that green corner was quite conspicuous, bobbing slightly at the edge of his pocket with every step he took.
He walked back and forth between several blocks with his hands in his pockets, whistling, putting on the act of a clueless, defenseless, down-and-out youth.
The route was carefully planned: avoiding the bright streetlights of the main roads, he specifically chose areas with dim lighting and intersecting alleys.
For several nights in a row, Klein encountered nothing. His plan for bait-and-switch policing failed completely; let alone armed robbers or drive-by gangs, he didn't even run into a pickpocket.
The place where he lived was much safer than he had imagined.
"Tsk, miscalculated." Klein muttered to himself as he stuffed the money back into the hole under his mattress.
"It seems stereotypes can be deadly. Who said Queens has gunfights every single day? The law and order in this place... seems okay, actually?"
However, after a second thought, he understood.
The place he lived in, although dilapidated and cramped, had the advantage of a stable location, and his neighbors were mostly acquaintances relying on pensions.
Otherwise, it would have been impossible for him, an orphan, to live in a studio apartment with money and survive to this age.
If this place were really chaotic, he would have been picked clean long ago.
If he really wanted to play the dog-eat-dog game, he would probably have to change neighborhoods.
School was about to start, and Klein wasn't planning on going back.
The next morning, after breakfast.
Klein changed into a clean T-shirt and jeans, stuffed a few old textbooks that looked like they had been read many times into a similarly weather-beaten backpack, ruffled his hair in the bathroom mirror, and headed out.
The streets of Queens were much livelier in the early morning: children going to school, commuters catching early buses, and shops on the street corners wafting the aroma of coffee...
Empire State University was not too far from Klein's apartment; it was about a twenty-minute walk.
When he arrived at the historic school gate, following the groups of students, he spotted Peter at a glance, standing under the porch, looking around somewhat awkwardly.
"Hey, Peter!" Klein walked over quickly and patted him on the shoulder.
"Oh! Klein!" Peter turned his head, a relieved smile appearing on his face.
The two walked side by side, passing through the ivy-covered brick archway and into the campus of Empire State University.
The campus was very lively.
Students were rushing about with books in their arms, young people were sitting in small groups on the lawn chatting, and the air was filled with the scent of youthful hormones.
Peter kicked a fallen leaf on the road as he walked, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke up: "Klein, after going back that day, I thought about it for a long time."
He pushed up his glasses, turned his head, and looked very serious.
"I think you were right. I shouldn't have... well, I shouldn't have taken things for granted. Thank you for reminding me."
Klein smiled, didn't reply, and waited for what he had to say next.
"So," Peter stopped, turned to face Klein, his expression unusually solemn, "in the future... I mean, in the future, if there's anything, anything I can actually help with... you must tell me, okay? We... are friends."
Looking into the eyes behind those lenses, Klein saw pure, unadulterated friendship, and felt a slight warmth in his heart.
In this strange World, his first friendship came from Peter Parker right in front of him, clumsy but sincere enough.
"Of course." Klein grinned, slinging his arm around Peter's shoulder, "We're friends, after all. When there's really a time I need your help, I won't stand on ceremony."
Peter laughed after hearing this. Klein was one of his few friends, and he didn't want any rift to form between them because of himself.
"It's a deal, then."
The two continued walking and stopped at a fork in the road leading to different teaching buildings.
Peter had to go to the Biochemistry building, while Klein's economics class was in another, older building.
"See you after class?" Peter waved his hand.
"Let's see, let's meet at the cafeteria at noon." Klein also waved, turned, and merged into the crowd heading toward the Economics building.
The economics classroom was in an old red-brick building with narrow corridors; the walls were hung with oil portraits of past department chairs, and the air smelled of aged wood and chalk dust.
Klein found the lecture hall and slipped in through the back door.
It was still early, and less than half the seats in the classroom were filled.
He habitually walked toward the corner in the back near the window—it was quiet, had a good view, and was suitable for daydreaming.
He casually placed his old backpack on the chair next to him to save the seat, then stretched his stiff body and gave a good, long stretch.
His gaze swept casually over the classmates entering the classroom one after another.
Most were familiar faces, either burying their heads in preparation or chatting in low voices.
Just then, a figure walked in through the front door of the classroom.
Her long golden hair was almost transparent in the morning light slanting in from the window, tied into a neat high ponytail that swayed gently behind her head with her steps.
She wore a simple white short-sleeved T-shirt and light blue jeans, carried a sturdy-looking canvas backpack, had a tall and well-proportioned figure, and walked with a light, springy gait.
She seemed familiar with the place, walking straight to a seat in the middle of the front row, sitting down, and taking out her notebook and pen from her backpack with smooth, natural movements.
Her profile was sharp and beautiful, her nose bridge straight, and her skin was a healthy wheat color.
Klein's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly.
Gwen Stacy.
One of the influential figures at Empire State University.
With excellent grades, especially outstanding talent in science, she was a favorite of the Professors;
She had an outgoing personality and was very active in many clubs;
More importantly, her father was Captain George Stacy of the New York Police Department.
In Klein's memory fragments, she was friendly to most classmates but kept an appropriate distance, possessing the clear-headed and independent temperament unique to science students.
She was also Peter's future first love.
Klein didn't expect to meet her here. In his impression, Gwen majored in Biochemistry and Physics-related subjects, so why was she here taking Intermediate Macroeconomics?
Just then, an electronic prompt rang out in the depths of his mind without warning:
[Ding!]
[Detected Marvel key plot character: Gwen Stacy]
[Identity: Daughter of George Stacy, top student at Empire State University, little Spider-Man's first love, Ghost Spider-Man of the neighboring Universe]
[Hint: Host has encountered a new plot character. Reward: Draw count +1! Do you want to start the draw now?]
Klein: "..."
He looked at that golden back of the head in the front row, then felt the eager system prompt in his mind.
Peter Parker allowed for a draw; he understood that. The guy was Marvel's favorite son!
But Gwen... how? If that was the case, then the conditions for the draw were interesting.
Not just limited to the protagonist?! Important supporting characters work too?
That would mean he was about to take off!
However, he needed more characters to experiment with.
His thoughts raced, but his face remained expressionless. He simply withdrew his gaze, pulled the worn-edged Intermediate Macroeconomics textbook from his bag, and opened it to a random page.
"Now, draw!"
[Ding!]
[...]
Chapter 5: Acquiring New Abilities
[Ding!]
[The ability you have drawn is — the Perfect-grade String-String Fruit ability!]
klein was slightly taken aback.
String-String Fruit?
Doflamingo, that flamingo's ability?
klein thought the system was going to give him an actual Devil Fruit!
He didn't expect it to load the ability directly into his body.
And it's Perfect-grade... immune to seawater and Seastone?
klein was overjoyed. This was simply doing whatever he wanted... no, it was like a tiger getting wings!
Besides, he didn't even have to worry about how to develop the ability! Doflamingo had already paved the way for him.
It seems I can Cosplay Spider-Man in the future, team up with Peter to form the Empire State Building swinging brothers duo.
He subconsciously twitched his fingers, and an extremely subtle yet incredibly clear sense of connection quietly spread from his fingertips.
It was as if a string, completely controlled by his will, incredibly tough, and hard to see with the naked eye, had appeared out of thin air at the tips of his fingers, like an extension of his body.
At the same time, a warm current instantly surged through his whole body. Muscle fibers, bones, blood vessels, meridians, and cells seemed to be silently combed and strengthened at a microscopic level, and a very faint crackling sound came from his whole body.
His body was also being strengthened simultaneously.
He had a similar feeling when loading Cyclops last time, but it wasn't as obvious as this time. klein thought it was the newbie bonus that came with the first draw.
It seems that every time a powerful ability is loaded, there will be an enhancement of his physical body.
"System," klein asked silently in his heart, "Does every ability load synchronize with strengthening my physical foundation?"
[Ding! Yes, Host.]
[Otherwise, do you think your fragile body could withstand continuous ability loading? Every time a new ability is loaded, the system will optimize and basically strengthen your body according to the characteristics of the ability. This is standard service, so you don't accidentally break yourself.]
"Does that mean as long as I keep drawing and loading new abilities, my body will keep getting stronger?"
[Ding! Host, can you have some ambition?]
[Physical strengthening is just the most basic side effect! If you are lucky enough one day to draw something like 'Qi Transforming into Three Pure Ones,' 'Chaos Body,' or 'Pangu True Body'... You can pretty much consider achieving sainthood through the flesh and taking on the laws of the Universe alone! You need to open your mind and broaden your perspective! Following this system, the goal is the stars and the sea, and the supreme heights of all worlds! Understand?]
klein was a bit dizzy from the grand vision painted by the system. Although he knew it was just a pie in the sky, this pie... it was big, round, and delicious, making it hard not to be tempted.
Achieving sainthood through the flesh? Holding the sun and moon in one's hand and plucking stars? Just thinking about it is exciting!
"Ding-a-ling —!"
The bell for the end of class suddenly rang, interrupting klein's thoughts.
The classroom instantly became active. Students began to pack up their books, chat, and leave their seats.
klein also closed the textbook he hadn't read much of and stuffed it back into his schoolbag. His gaze drifted involuntarily toward the front row again.
Gwen Stacy had already neatly packed her notes and was slinging her canvas backpack over her shoulder.
Her golden ponytail swayed gently with her movements, drawing a striking arc in the light coming through the window.
Her side profile had clear lines, and her expression was focused, as if she was still thinking about some knowledge point from the class just now.
"Tsk, this little lady..." klein clicked his tongue inwardly, his gaze turning over her.
It was because of her that he got a free draw and obtained the practical and cool String-String Fruit ability.
Logically speaking, shouldn't he "reward" her?
For example... stealing Peter's girl?
Trick this smart, pretty, and curvy blonde girl into his hands? Keep her in a secret room, and when bored, use a small whip...?
This plot... thinking about it is stimulating.
Gwen felt klein's gaze and looked back.
Seeing that it was Peter's good friend, she gave klein a slight smile, then left the classroom with her bag on her back.
Watching Gwen's back.
klein wiped his drool.
"This little waist, this little perky butt, these long legs... slurp..."
No, no! klein quickly suppressed his restless heart.
A friend's wife is not to be trifled with... *cough cough*... not to be bullied...
Although she isn't a wife yet, Gwen and Peter are already at the stage of "love at first sight."
How could he do such a despicable thing as NTR, cheating in front of the husband, or wearing a green hat? That's too lacking in class!
It doesn't fit his personal code of honor!
"At the very least... I have to wait until Peter fails to grasp it, and they have a falling out..."
klein touched his chin and muttered, "Peter, that little virgin, is getting a bargain..."
"Huh? Wait! It seems Peter was a virgin until he married Mary Jane..."
"Which means..."
Hehehe, boy!
Good brother, if you have a problem, you have to ask a friend. We, klein, are the kind of person who can stab a friend twice!
Never leaving a name after doing a good deed.
Giving birth to a child for a friend, this kind of thing. I will do it without hesitation!
klein hummed a tune and strolled toward the cafeteria where he had an appointment with Peter, his steps becoming lighter unconsciously.
The cafeteria was filled with the smell of fried food. After klein got his meal, he carried the tray and wove flexibly through the crowd, soon finding Peter at a window seat.
In front of him was already a pitiful-looking vegetable salad and a small piece of hard bread.
"You're eating this?" klein slammed his tray piled high with meat patties and pasta onto the table and sat down opposite Peter.
Peter pushed his glasses, a bit embarrassed: "Recently... I'm controlling my budget. Besides, vegetables are healthy."
"Healthy my ass, look how skinny you are." klein didn't say another word, used his fork to spear half of the meat patties from his plate, and unceremoniously moved them to Peter's plate.
"Eat more meat, grow taller, otherwise how will you be a five-star good citizen in the future?"
Peter was stunned for a moment, then his eyes felt a little warm. He lowered his head and whispered a "Thank you," without refusing again, picked up his fork, and ate silently.
He knew that Klein's financial situation was no better than his, so this gesture was particularly heavy.
Just as the two were burying their heads in their food, a figure stopped by their table.
"Hey, Peter."
The voice carried a gentleness polished by good upbringing, but at its core, it revealed an unconcealable, innate sense of detachment.
Peter and klein looked up at the same time.
A tall, handsome man stood by the table with an impeccable, formulaic smile on his face.
He was wearing a light gray shirt ironed without a single wrinkle, sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing a watch that looked understated but was actually worth a fortune.
His hair was meticulously groomed, and his blue eyes looked at Peter, then swept over klein.
The gaze was very polite, but klein keenly captured something fleeting deep within those eyes —
A kind of instinctive, deeply rooted arrogance.
"Harry!" Peter immediately put down his fork, wiped his mouth awkwardly, and stood up, "You, why are you here? Have you eaten? Do you want to join us?"
"No thanks, I've already eaten." Harry waved his hand with a smile, signaling Peter to sit down, and only then did his gaze officially land on klein.
"Oh, this is my friend, Kline I—" Peter hurriedly introduced him, then turned to klein, "Kline, this is Osborn, Harry Osborn, whom I mentioned to you before."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Osborn." klein also stood up, reached out his hand, and wore a standard smile on his face.
[Ding!]
[Marvel key plot character detected: Harry Osborn]
[Identity: Son of Norman Osborn, heir to the Osborn Group, future Green Goblin]
[Hint: The host has encountered a new plot character. Reward: Draw count + 1! Do you want to start the draw now?]
"First, no draw." klein muttered inwardly.
"Just call me Harry." Harry reached out and shook hands with klein. It was a fleeting touch, the etiquette was impeccable. "Peter often mentions you, saying you are one of his best friends. Nice to meet you, Klein."
"Thanks." klein's smile remained unchanged.
As expected, after a few pleasantries, Harry got to the point, his gaze returning to Peter.
"Peter, I came over to tell you personally. I've already spoken to the HR department about the intern spots for the Osborn Industries Science Fair next month. The process will be sent directly to your email. Remember to report on time in October."
Peter's eyes lit up, and his face showed sincere gratitude and excitement: "Really? Thank you so much, Harry! I will definitely work hard and won't embarrass you!"
"I believe in you." Harry patted Peter on the shoulder.
He paused, his gaze seemingly inadvertently sweeping over klein again, and then said to Peter: "Enjoy your lunch. I have something to do, I'll leave first. Keep in touch."
"Okay, Harry, goodbye!"
"Goodbye." klein also chimed in at the right time.
After seeing Harry Osborn off, klein turned to Peter and asked, "Do you know exactly what you'll be doing for your internship in October? Which department will you be in?"
"Harry said I might be in the on-site coordination team for the Biotechnology Exhibition Area, responsible for things like guiding and material preparation." Peter pushed up his glasses, a spark of light reigniting in his eyes.
"Even though it sounds like grunt work, I'll be able to see the most cutting-edge project displays and meet many people in the industry..."
klein picked up the Coke cup next to him and raised it toward him. "Come on, here's to a smooth internship. May you rise to the top soon—just don't forget to give your bro a hand when the time comes."
Peter was amused by him and picked up his own water glass, clinking it against his. "I definitely won't!"
The two continued eating, and klein asked Peter.
"How are things with Gwen Stacy? Have you confessed yet?"
"Not yet. I want to wait until after the internship, save up some money, buy a nice gift, and then confess to her," Peter said shyly.
"Damn, wait until you've saved enough? The opportunity will be long gone by then!" klein threw his fork onto the tray with a sharp clang, drawing looks from students at nearby tables.
Peter was startled by his sudden intense reaction. His face turned beet red, and he instinctively looked around before stammering.
"K-Klein, keep your voice down... I-I'm not... I just feel... a poor kid like me isn't good enough for Gwen..."
"Tsk." Looking at Peter's dejected and self-pitying state, klein couldn't help but click his tongue.
"Does liking a girl have anything to do with how many coins you have in your pocket?"
"Besides, is Gwen the kind of woman who only cares about money? She's smart, beautiful, and comes from a good family. What would she want from you? Your lack of hygiene? Your uniquely refined poverty?"
"I..." Peter's face grew even redder.
"I what?" klein interrupted him.
"Take some advice from a friend: when it comes to feelings, sometimes the early bird gets the worm, and the latecomer gets nothing."
"If you keep hesitating like this, she'll end up being someone else's girlfriend before you know it."
"When that time comes, you'll just be squatting in a corner, watching them be all lovey-dovey while regretting that you were such a spineless coward."
Peter fell silent. He lowered his head, and after a moment, said with a touch of inferiority, "But... I can't even treat her to a decent meal..."
"That's exactly why you need to make your move now!" klein slapped his thigh.
"Peter, listen to me. Just go and tell her boldly, 'Gwen, I like you. Can we go out for a meal and a movie together?'"
"The worst-case scenario is just being rejected. You won't die from rejection, but if you don't try, will you be able to live with yourself?"
Peter was a bit dazed by the rapid-fire barrage of advice, but something in his eyes was clearly wavering.
He pursed his lips, his fingers unconsciously twisting together.
Seeing him like this, klein continued, "Besides, do you think a girl like Gwen cares about whether you have money right now? If she were that kind of person, she'd be surrounded by rich playboys already. If she didn't have feelings for you, would she have let you keep thinking about her for so long?"
"R-Really?" Peter suddenly looked up, his eyes brightening behind his lenses.
"Why would I lie to you?" klein leaned back and crossed his arms. "Anyway, I've said my piece. Think about it yourself."
"Will you keep being a coward and watch her walk past you holding someone else's hand, or will you act like a man and fight for your own happiness?"
"I... I'll think about it some more." Peter was still a bit hesitant.
"Fine, take your time." klein saw Peter's expression and knew further talk would be pointless.
"But let me warn you upfront, as a friend and a brother."
"I've been waiting for you, but if you don't make a move, I will."
"Who wouldn't want a woman like Gwen? Don't blame your bro for being disloyal later if I don't leave you a chance."
Peter was stunned for a moment by klein's words, then forced a strained smile.
"Klein, stop joking with me..."
His voice grew quieter and quieter, his gaze wandering as he lowered his head again, unconsciously poking the few remaining salad leaves on his plate with his fork.
The bitterness and inferiority in that smile were almost overflowing.
Seeing him like this, klein shook his head inwardly and didn't say anything more.
Some things can't be fixed just by talking.
Before becoming Spider-Man, Peter Parker was at his core just such a sensitive and cowardly young man struggling in the gap between reality and ideals.
What he lacked was never kindness or wisdom, but that spark of courage and an opportunity to break his own shackles.
"Alright, enough chatting." klein dropped the subject, stood up briskly, stacked his empty tray and Coke cup, and slung his old backpack over one shoulder.
"I have to get back. Think it over. If anything comes up, call me anytime."
He patted Peter on the shoulder, didn't look back at the other's conflicted expression, threw away his trash, and quickly disappeared through the cafeteria doors.
When klein stepped out of the cafeteria, the afternoon sun was a bit blinding.
He squinted and followed the thinning crowd of students, leisurely passing through the ivy-covered gates of Empire State University.
Avoiding the somewhat noisy main road, he turned into the relatively quiet residential streets.
After strolling for over twenty minutes, klein returned to the bottom of his old apartment building.
He climbed the creaking stairs, opened the door with his key, and tossed his old backpack onto the low cabinet by the door.
He opened the fridge and took out a bottle of chilled Coke.
Then, he threw himself onto the sofa bed, sinking deep into it with a comfortable sigh.
After resting with his eyes closed for a few minutes, klein opened them again.
"System," he thought to himself, "start the draw."
[Ding!]
[Drawing for you! Please wait...]
The familiar pale blue light screen, visible only to him, unfolded on his retina. The illusory lottery compass reappeared, its needle beginning to spin rapidly, creating a blur of light and shadow.
klein watched calmly; having gone through this twice before, he was already familiar with the process.
A few seconds later, the spinning stopped, and the needle pointed steadily to a section.
[Ding!]
[The ability you have drawn is—Five Elements Talisman Crafting!]
As the system's notification faded, a massive and orderly flow of information flooded into klein's mind like a divine revelation!
Immediately, this knowledge was activated, organized, and mastered, as if he had studied it thousands of times before.
Countless profound understandings of the Five Elements Power—
The sharpness and sturdiness of Metal, the growth and vitality of Wood, the continuous flow and change of Water, the explosive rising of Fire, and the heavy endurance of Earth.
These things surfaced clearly in his mind like brands.
Chapter 7: Fishing Law Enforcement Again
Immediately following that was a massive amount of specific methods for creating talismans—
How to use one's own spirit to trigger, harmonize, and infuse the corresponding Five Elements Power;
How to sketch runes and construct stable energy structures;
The influence of different materials (from special paper and jade to ordinary vegetation and even one's own energy) on the effects of the talismans;
The diagrams and utilities of all Five Elements talismans...
At the same time, that familiar warm current swept through his entire body once again.
Muscles, bones, meridians, and even more subtle levels were strengthened once more under the washing of this warm current.
Moreover, this time, the feeling of being strengthened was particularly obvious on the spiritual level.
klein felt his mind become clearer and more condensed, and his perception of the Five Elements became sharper.
What surprised klein even more was that these abilities could resonate with his existing 'Cyclops' and 'String-String Fruit' abilities.
He could use'strings' as a carrier to directly sketch runes;
He could even attach the power of talismans to the strings, giving those invisible threads various Five Elements special effects;
'Cyclops' could also be supplemented with Five Elements Power, though there wasn't much connection between 'Cyclops' and the 'String-String Fruit'.
But it didn't matter; eight or nine times out of ten, life doesn't go your way. How could he be satisfied with everything?
klein sat on the sofa, closed his eyes, and carefully felt the vast yet orderly knowledge of Five Elements talismans in his mind.
Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth—the characteristics, mutual generation and restriction, and the flow and transformation of the five primal powers were as clear as a brand.
klein raised his right hand, and with a slight thought, a nearly transparent thread, thinner than a strand of hair, silently emerged from his fingertip, flexibly winding and swaying in the air like an extension of his finger.
With a slight shift of thought, klein tried to infuse his spiritual power into the thread extending from his fingertip.
At the same time, he recalled the rune structure of the 'Sharp Metal Talisman' and the sharp, solid characteristics of the Metal element power.
Under the guidance of spiritual power, the metallic energy permeating the air, undetectable to ordinary people, was slowly attracted and adsorbed by this vibrating thread.
This caused extremely subtle changes to its internal characteristics.
klein observed that on the surface of this nearly transparent thread, an extremely faint, pale golden glimmer began to emerge, almost undetectable without careful observation.
The thread itself seemed to become more solid, and a faint sense of sharpness emanated from its edges.
He controlled a thread glowing with pale gold and lightly swiped it across a corner of the nearby low cabinet.
"Ssh—"
A soft sound, like a hot knife through butter.
The corner of the solid wood cabinet was silently sliced into a thin piece, the cut as smooth as a mirror.
"It worked!" klein's eyes lit up.
Although the effect of this 'Sharp Metal Thread' was still very weak, worlds apart from the power of a true talisman, the path was open!
For the entire following afternoon, klein was immersed in various whimsical experiments.
He tried to infuse the Five Elements Power into the threads separately.
After succeeding, he tried even more complex operations—
Using the thread as a pen to quickly engrave complete talisman patterns onto the surface of objects.
There was no need for various special pigments or different types of pens; the thread infused with spiritual power and Five Elements Power was the best carving knife.
Moreover, he could directly use the threads to weave various talismans, especially Five Elements combination talismans.
It was an incredibly perfect fit.
When the sunset outside the window dyed the room a warm orange-red, klein finally emerged from that state of focus and let out a long sigh of relief.
After an afternoon of tinkering, his spirit was somewhat exhausted, but the harvest was huge.
He already had a general concept and many interesting ideas for the preliminary coordination between the newly acquired 'Five Elements Talisman Crafting' and his existing 'String-String Fruit' ability.
"Gurgle..."
His stomach protested at this moment.
klein stood up, walked to the cramped kitchen, rummaged a pack of the cheapest pasta out of the cupboard, boiled water, added the noodles, and mixed in a bit of his own meat sauce.
He hurriedly finished this simple dinner, washed the dishes, and dried his hands.
Walking back to the bedside, he lifted the mattress and pulled out that stack of crumpled cash from the hole.
He pulled out about eight thousand dollars, a thick stack, and stuffed it into his back jeans pocket, deliberately letting a green corner peek out so it looked bulging.
klein straightened his collar in front of the cracked mirror in the bathroom.
Looking at his deliberately exposed, bulging back pocket in the mirror, klein grinned, his eyes flashing with a nearly mischievous eagerness.
"This time, there should finally be some harvest, right?"
He had completely learned his lesson from the failure of the last fishing law enforcement attempt.
To do some business like robbing the rich to help the poor, one had to go to the right place.
In all of New York, or even all of the U.S., was there any place more hellish than Hells Kitchen?
Answer: No!
That place was a gathering spot for bums and junkies during the day, and a breeding ground for vice at night.
Gunfights, drugs, pornography, gang wars, human trafficking... there was nothing that didn't happen there.
That place was practically a beginner's zone tailor-made for him.
Go downstairs, lock the door.
The streets in the evening were even quieter than during the day, but the neon lights had already begun to flicker.
klein walked toward the subway station with his hands in his pockets, swaying casually. The stack of cash with the green edge showing quivered at the edge of his back pocket with every step, exceptionally conspicuous under the dim streetlights.
He deliberately walked slowly, looking around with a curious and innocent gaze, looking exactly like a simpleton who had just come to the big city from a remote area for the first time.
The subway car was a mix of the smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and the characteristic rusty smell of the subway.
klein found a corner to lean against and closed his eyes to rest.
In reality, his spiritual power was quietly spreading out, constantly training his fruit ability.
Nearly invisible threads, like the most sensitive antennae, extended silently from him as the center.
This was one of the results of the afternoon's experiments—
Using strings instead of senses.
The subtle vibrations transmitted back by the threads allowed him to hear whispers from further away and even vaguely sense the emotional fluctuations and muscle tension of those he touched.
Before long, the Hells Kitchen Station arrived.
klein followed the sparse crowd out of the subway exit.
A gust of air mixed with decaying garbage, low-quality alcohol, and an indescribable aura of decadence blew toward him.
The air seemed a few degrees more turbid and viscous than elsewhere.
The buildings on both sides of the street were old and dilapidated, their walls covered in mottled graffiti and years of accumulated stains.
Most of the streetlights were broken, and the few remaining ones were dim and yellow, barely illuminating the uneven sidewalk.
Most shops had closed early, their rolling shutters covered in rust and scratches.
Those still open were mostly bars with flickering neon lights, adult stores, or convenience stores with narrow storefronts and pale, sickly lights, with alert-looking clerks standing behind the display windows.
Homeless people huddled in corners wrapped in tattered blankets, and ill-intentioned gazes occasionally flashed from the shadows.
klein took a deep breath. Yes, this was the smell!
Chapter 8: Hells Kitchen
klein began to specifically choose darker and narrower alleys to walk through.
As he walked, he pricked up his ears. Silk Threads, already like a spiderweb, spread silently from him as the center into the surrounding shadows, corners, and even the fire escapes overhead.
After walking for about ten minutes, he turned into a dead-end alley filled with dumpsters and permeating with a sour stench.
klein deliberately stopped at the entrance of the alley, putting on an act by taking out his phone and pretending to check a map.
His fingers swiped clumsily across the screen as he muttered, "Strange, doesn't the map show an Express Hotel here..."
Just then, through the vibrations transmitted back by the extended Silk Threads, he saw two figures flash out from the alley entrance behind him, one on the left and one on the right, blocking his way in.
Two more stood up from the shadows of the clutter deep within the dead end, seemingly carrying things like clubs in their hands.
Attacked from both front and back, he was surrounded.
klein pretended to put away his phone in a panic and turned around, a perfectly timed look of tension and fear appearing on his face.
"W-what do you want? I-I don't have any money..." His voice trembled, hands protecting his chest as he subconsciously took half a step back, just enough to expose the bulging back pocket more clearly to them.
The ones blocking the road were two white youths in filthy jackets, one tall and thin, the other short and stocky.
The tall, thin one sneered and pulled a switchblade from his lower back. With a snap, it flicked open, the blade's edge glinting coldly in the dim light.
"Hey, yellow monkey, don't be nervous." The short, stocky one grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth as he slowly approached.
"We just saw you looked lost and wanted to help. But we can't help for free. Take out those Greenbacks in your pocket, and we'll tell you where the hotel is, how about it?"
The two from deep in the alley also approached with steel pipes. The four formed a semi-circle, cornering klein.
"I... I really don't have any money..." klein was so "scared" his legs went weak. Leaning against the cold brick wall, his voice carried a sob.
"Cut the bullshit!" The tall, thin youth grew impatient, waving the knife in his hand. "I don't have time to play with you! Take it out yourself, or do we help you? Pick one!"
"Seems there's no choice then?" The terror on klein's face receded like a tide, instantly becoming calm, even carrying a hint of amusement.
He lowered his hands from his chest and slowly stood up straight.
The four muggers were stunned by this sudden change.
Before they could react, klein's right index finger, tucked in his pants pocket, moved almost imperceptibly.
"Swish! Swish! Swish! Swish!"
Four extremely faint sounds of breaking air rang out almost simultaneously!
The four muggers only felt a slight sting and a tugging sensation at their ankles. Before they knew what was happening, they lost their balance!
"Thud!" "Thud!" "Ouch!"
Screams and the sound of heavy objects hitting the ground rang out almost at once.
The four muggers, who had been aggressive just moments ago, were now sprawled on the ground in extremely pathetic positions. The knives and steel pipes flew out of their hands, clattering to the side.
They discovered in horror that their feet had been tightly bound together by several nearly transparent but incredibly tough Silk Threads at some point.
They were wrapped so tightly that no matter how they struggled, they wouldn't budge. Instead, the threads tightened further, digging painfully into their flesh.
"Fuck! What the hell is this?!"
"My feet! I can't move them!"
"It's this kid's doing! Get him!"
The short, stocky mugger was both shocked and enraged, still trying to reach for the steel pipe that had fallen nearby.
klein stepped forward unhurriedly, leaned over to pick up the switchblade, and weighed it in his hand.
"Tsk, such poor quality." With a casual squeeze, the hardened steel blade was easily deformed by his fingers like it was made of clay, then he tossed it aside like trash.
The four muggers' eyes nearly popped out of their heads. Their struggling movements instantly froze, and the color drained from their faces.
What kind of monster is this?!
klein ignored their terror and strolled over to the tall, thin mugger. He squatted down, a warm smile on his face.
"Now, it's my turn." He extended two fingers, gently pinching the other's chin, forcing him to look up.
"I do have some good things on me, but..." klein patted his bulging pants pocket with his other hand, then took out the Greenbacks and waved them in front of the tall, thin mugger.
"This is my stuff. It's not reasonable for you to steal other people's things, right?"
The tall, thin mugger was scared out of his wits and nodded frantically. "Yes, unreasonable. We shouldn't... shouldn't steal your things."
"Very good. You're very sensible. I'm satisfied." klein nodded with satisfaction, let go, stood up, and brushed off non-existent dust.
"So, now, we should talk about how you mugged me and caused me great harm. How are you going to compensate me..."
The four muggers looked at each other in silence. It was their first time encountering someone who mugged the muggers.
"Ah...!"
Four cries of pain came from the mouths of the four muggers.
klein had simply used Silk Threads to pierce through their thighs. He gave them a small punishment.
"Since you can't say it, I'll say it..."
"Take out everything valuable on you. Wallets, phones, watches, necklaces... everything. Don't make me say it a second time."
His voice wasn't loud, even quite calm, but to the four muggers, it was more bone-chilling than the coldest wind in Hells Kitchen.
The muggers had no doubt that if they dared say "no" again, this smiling Asian youth would definitely have even more terrifying methods waiting for them.
A few minutes later, klein had four thin wallets, three old-model phones, a peeling electronic watch, and two cheap gold-plated necklaces in his hands.
He weighed the wallets; all together, they probably didn't even amount to two hundred U.S. dollars.
"Tsk, paupers." klein curled his lip in disdain but still pulled out all the cash and stuffed it into an old canvas bag he had brought, along with the phones, watch, and necklaces.
Then he threw the empty wallets on the ground.
"B-big brother... you've taken the money, can... can you let us go?" the short, stocky mugger pleaded with a miserable face.
"Let you go?" klein tilted his head, seemingly thinking it over seriously, and then revealed a brilliant smile.
"Of course. I'm a man of my word."
With that, his fingers moved again.
The Silk Threads tied around the four muggers' feet seemed to come alive, automatically loosening, retracting, and quickly disappearing into klein's fingertips.
The four muggers, as if granted a great pardon, scrambled to their feet to run away.
However, just as they pushed themselves up, they felt a chill on their necks, and then they saw their bodies slowly getting taller—wait, why were there no heads?
"You! You didn't keep your word!" This was the muggers' final thought.
After dealing with the four pieces of urban trash, klein ignored the headless corpses on the ground.
Turning around, he hummed a cheerful tune and strolled out of the dead-end alley, carrying the canvas bag containing his meager spoils.
Finally open for business, seeing some return on investment.
"As expected, studying Criminal Law leads to wealth faster than studying Economics."
klein's gaze swept across the deeper, darker alleys around him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
The night is still young.
Chapter 9: The Sweep
Over the next few nights, klein launched a silent "sweep" across Hells Kitchen.
At first, it was just some blind petty thieves, scammers, and lone muggers.
They often felt a blur before their eyes, then lost consciousness forever, their valuables vanishing into thin air.
klein's movements were clean and efficient; using his reinforced silk threads, he ended them directly, never wasting words and never leaving survivors.
His spoils grew from an initial scattering of dozens or hundreds of dollars to thousands.
Soon, small street gangs began to suffer.
These small groups of five to six or a dozen people usually controlled the drug retail or protection rackets of one or two streets, serving as the second-to-last tier of grassroots units in Hells Kitchen.
They were only a step above the independent scammers and thieves.
klein's method for dealing with them was equally brutal.
Often late at night, when they gathered in dens, back alleys, or abandoned warehouses to trade, split loot, or simply mess around, klein would appear like a specter.
Invisible silk threads would first take out the lookouts, and then he would slip inside.
Then the harvest would begin.
The battles usually ended within a minute, leaving behind only bodies scattered in various states of death, along with plundered cash and weapons.
The news was like water dropped into a hot oil pan, quickly exploding, fermenting, and distorting within the underworld of Hells Kitchen.
People began to whisper, calling him the "Midnight Reaper" or the "Ghost Sweeper."
Elusive and using bizarre methods, he never left survivors, targeted only gangs and villains, and had a clear objective—money.
The major powers of Hells Kitchen went from initial disdain to alertness, and then to a faint sense of panic.
They tightened security, sent out more men, and even set traps for an ambush.
But that "Ghost" seemed able to see through everything, always appearing from the most unexpected angles to take lives and money before vanishing without a trace.
This continued until klein set his sights on a mid-sized gang that controlled drug wholesaling for several blocks—the Viper Gang.
Their boss was a Mexican powerhouse nicknamed "Viper," known for being ruthless and extremely suspicious.
Their hideout was located in an Underground Roomdisguised as a scrapped car repair shop, with a hidden entrance and heavy guards both inside and out, equipped with plenty of automatic firepower.
"Now this is getting interesting." From the roof of an abandoned building in the distance, klein observed the repair shop using his enhanced vision—a byproduct of his Cyclops ability—and licked his lips.
He didn't choose a frontal assault.
Instead, he spent some time using nearly transparent silk threads to set up simple trigger-based "Mist Talismans" around several key vents, sewer exits, and blind spots around the repair shop.
klein wove these talismans onto the building using silk threads; their energy was weak and the range was small, but they were enough to make any approaching guards drowsy or lose their sense of direction for a few seconds. Once triggered, they would self-destruct, leaving no trace.
At midnight, klein began his move.
Like Peter, he used his silk threads to swing into a ventilation duct.
The guard inside the duct had just felt a hint of drowsiness when his neck felt a sudden chill.
klein's movements were as fast as a ghost; his reinforced body, combined with his elusive silk threads, displayed terrifying efficiency in the narrow space.
He had already used his threads to sabotage the surveillance lines in advance and used the "Mist Talismans" to deploy a shroud of mist directly around the perimeter of the Viper Gang's hideout.
Those outside couldn't see in, and those inside couldn't see out.
Taking this opportunity, klein acted like an assassin in the dark, precisely clearing the sentry posts along the way.
Finally, he reached the core area of the Underground Room—a brightly lit, large room filled with piles of cash and drugs.
Viper and several core members were counting the day's take. Two large suitcases lay open, filled with neatly bundled US dollars, alongside several sealed bags full of white powder.
"Who's there?!" When klein emerged from the shadows like a ghost, Viper reacted instantly, drawing the handgun at his waist.
His subordinates also pulled their guns.
But it was already too late.
klein raised his hand, spreading his fingers.
In an instant, dozens of silk threads infused with the power of "Sharp Gold" shot out from him as the center!
Puff, puff, puff, puff—!
The dense sound of blades entering flesh rang out.
The lackeys raising their guns were shot through like hornet's nests.
Accompanied by screams, they slowly died.
Viper's eyes nearly burst as he frantically pulled the trigger. Bullets hit the space in front of klein, making crisp clinking sounds as glass-like cracks appeared one after another.
It was as if a piece of bulletproof glass had suddenly appeared, blocking all the bullets.
It was the "Vajra Talisman"!
Currently, even automatic rifles couldn't shatter its defense. klein hadn't encountered more powerful weapons yet, so he didn't know where the limit of the "Vajra Talisman" lay.
Just as Viper wanted to continue his attack, he felt a chill on his gun-holding wrist. His entire hand was severed at the joint, and the handgun clattered to the floor.
"Agh—!" Viper screamed, clutching his spurting stump as he collapsed to his knees.
klein waved his hand to sever Viper's neck, then strolled through the room that had turned into a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood. He reached the two suitcases full of cash, looked at them, and then looked at the nearby bags of drugs.
"I'll take the cash with my compliments." He picked up the two heavy suitcases and then looked at the white powder, his brow furrowing slightly.
"As for these harmful things..."
A red light flashed briefly in his eyes.
Two subtle yet extremely concentrated crimson heat rays swept across, and the drug bags were instantly melted by the high temperature.
The entire process took less than ten minutes.
When klein disappeared back into the ventilation duct carrying the two cases of money, the Viper Gang—which had once terrified the residents of the nearby blocks—ceased to exist, leaving only a mess and the gradually spreading scent of blood.
This job instantly filled klein's activity funds.
Over two million in cash was enough for him to squander for a while, and it also relaxed his somewhat tense nerves.
Meanwhile, the legend of the "Ghost" reached its peak in Hells Kitchen.
Now, even the most vicious gang bosses slept with two or three guns by their beds and constantly changed their residences.
No one knew who the "Ghost" was—whether male or female, human or specter.
All they knew was that he took lives and money without mercy, and so far, he hadn't left a single survivor.
Just as klein felt he had saved up enough money and was preparing for one last job before taking a break to enjoy a "life of financial freedom," he encountered a slightly different target.
It was late at night, with a drizzling rain and a thick mist.
klein had targeted an agent said to work for one of Kingpin's lieutenants.
He was responsible for managing several underground casinos and adult entertainment venues.
This guy was as slippery as an eel, his movements unpredictable, and he was always accompanied by at least eight elite bodyguards.
But through several days of tracking, klein figured out that at this time every week, he would take his men to a mistress's apartment—
That was when he felt safest and most relaxed.
In klein's eyes, this was the signal to close the net.
As usual, he infiltrated the high-end apartment building in advance. Accompanied by the torrential rain, he silently took out several hidden sentries and reached the hallway of the floor where the target was located.
The hallway was covered with a thick carpet that absorbed all footsteps, with only the wall lamps emitting a dim yellow light.
The target's door was at the end of the hallway.
Chapter 10: Bullseye
The door at the end of the corridor was tightly shut, the thick solid wood panels isolating the inside from the outside.
With a hook of his hand, an almost invisible silk thread slithered from under the door crack like a spirit snake, gently wrapping around the inner door handle as klein sensed the simple structure of the lock inside.
"Click."
A slight sound of a spring clicking was almost inaudible in the silent corridor.
The lock was skillfully picked open by the thread.
klein didn't push the door open immediately; instead, he spread his sensory threads into the room like a spider web, quickly sketching out the internal layout and life signatures.
One heavy breath and one relatively soft breath, carrying a post-satisfaction laziness, came from the bedroom.
The two people inside seemed to have fallen into a deep sleep.
And there were actually eight bodyguards outside the bedroom?
Dammit, bringing so many people—is it so someone can push their asses while they're in bed?
Bah! Death-fearing coward!
klein pushed the door open soundlessly, slipped inside, and gently closed the door behind him.
These eight people were somewhat well-trained; they noticed the moment klein entered, but it was useless.
He took care of them in no time at all, without making a single sound.
klein didn't even need to search; the clothes scattered on the floor led him from the living room to the bedroom door.
The bedroom door was ajar, with warm yellow light and a man's heavy snoring drifting out.
Opening the bedroom door, the air inside was filled with the scent of expensive cigars, strong liquor, and a hint of cloying perfume.
On the large bed, a balding, chubby man with a ferocious tiger head tattooed on his chest lay sprawled out, snoring like thunder.
A blonde woman curled up beside him, her back to the door, seemingly fast asleep.
Several stacks of cash, a gold watch, and a handgun were scattered on the nightstand.
"Sleeping so soundly." klein's lips curled into a cold arc.
His fingers moved slightly, and two threads as thin as gossamer, almost imperceptible in the dim light, coiled silently around the necks of the two people on the bed like a venomous snake's tongue.
"Ugh..."
The sleeping man and woman stiffened almost simultaneously, and then their heads were severed from their bodies.
klein began to skillfully search the room.
In the walk-in closet, there was a safe embedded in the wall with a combination lock.
klein pressed his hand against the cold metal door, and the lock cylinder was immediately destroyed from the inside.
The safe door popped open.
Inside, bundles of hundred-dollar bills were neatly stacked, gleaming temptingly in the dim light.
Next to them were several velvet bags; opening them revealed golden-yellow gold bars.
klein did a rough count.
"Three million in cash, over a million in gold... As expected of Kingpin! Even the agent of a subordinate's subordinate is so loaded."
klein unzipped a large sports duffel bag he had prepared in advance and briskly swept the cash and gold bars inside.
The zipper closed, and the heavy weight made him feel pleasant.
"I can finally rest for a while."
He picked up the bulging bag and turned to leave.
Just as he reached the center of the living room, a few steps away from the large floor-to-ceiling window—
A sudden change occurred!
An extremely sharp whistle of breaking air pierced through the large floor-to-ceiling window behind him without warning!
The whistle came too fast and too sudden; almost the instant it sounded, a uniquely shaped, pitch-black throwing knife with edges gleaming with a cold light appeared.
Tearing through the curtain of rain and glass, carrying an unstoppable and devastating kinetic energy, it aimed straight for klein's temple!
"Clang—!!!"
A dull yet deafening explosion erupted in the empty living room!
At the critical moment, a faint golden light membrane formed by a "Vajra Talisman" enveloped klein, blocking the damage from the throwing knife.
Fortunately, klein was a Voldemort and afraid of death.
His face was enveloped in a "Mist Talisman" at all times, making it impossible for anyone to see his face;
He also kept a "Vajra Talisman" active on his body at all times, keeping himself permanently within its protective shield.
Otherwise, he would have been crippled if not killed; the power of this throwing knife was immense.
The "Vajra Talisman," which even an automatic rifle couldn't penetrate, was now covered in spider-web-like cracks from the impact of this throwing knife, and its protective light dimmed sharply, looking as if it would shatter completely at any moment!
At this rate, two more knives would break the "Vajra Talisman."
"Fuck! What the hell is that?!"
Alarm bells rang in klein's mind as killing intent instantly surged!
He didn't even have time to look back at the attacker's appearance; he twisted his body forcefully, pressing his right index and middle fingers together like a sword, and lashed out instinctively in the direction the dart came from!
"Swoosh—!"
A whistle so sharp it almost tore the air apart rang out!
A "Bullet String," infused with the sharp power of a "Sharp Metal Talisman" and condensed to the extreme by the String-String Fruit ability, shot out at a terrifying supersonic speed!
This strike was launched in anger by klein, with no holding back!
The heavy rain and night outside were easily pierced by this invisible and intangible yet incomparably sharp Bullet String!
"Pfft!"
The dull sound of a sharp weapon entering flesh came through, accompanied by an extremely suppressed groan.
klein's sensory threads clearly captured the vigorous figure outside the window, which had almost merged with the darkness, suddenly jolting.
Then, with incredible agility and speed, it retreated rapidly, instantly blending into the shadows of the neighboring building and vanishing.
Although the Bullet String hit, it didn't strike a vital spot.
Originally, klein had aimed for the enemy's heart, but unexpectedly, at the last moment, the opponent used some superhuman reaction to dodge the vital area, resulting in only a punctured lung.
"Fuck! He runs fast."
klein didn't pursue.
Instead, he looked at the peculiar throwing knife deeply embedded in the floor.
He bent down to pull it out; it felt heavy in his hand, made of neither gold nor iron, with a smooth design full of lethal beauty and subtle blood grooves at the end.
It was definitely not standard-issue equipment.
"Bullseye... I'll spare your dog life for now." klein weighed the dart in his hand and whispered the name, a smile mixing interest and coldness appearing on his face.
If you were to ask how klein knew.
It was because when he picked up the throwing knife, the system's prompt sounded in his mind.
[Ding!]
[Detected key Marvel plot character: Lester (Bullseye)]
[Identity: Professional assassin, Kingpin's top assassin, Dark Avengers' fake Hawkeye]
[Prompt: The host has encountered a new plot character. Reward: Lottery draw +1! Start the draw now?]
"Not for now."
klein muttered to the system in his mind, then casually tossed the dart into the sports bag filled with cash and gold.
He lingered no longer, picking up the heavy bag and moving like a ghost toward the apartment's emergency exit, quickly disappearing into the shadows of the stairwell.