Martial Saint, Save Me! Martial Saint: I'm Busy

Without Spider-Man showing up to intervene, what would the New York police do after taking a loss? Just fire a few shots and call it a day?

Impossible!

Even without suffering a loss, they would open fire; now that they've been bested, they won't rest until they've taken down their target.

Bang bang bang!

Gunfire rang out incessantly as countless bullets struck Max Dillon, sparks flying in all directions.

Faced with incoming bullets, Max Dillon instinctively dodged, shielding his head and shutting his eyes while flailing his arms as if that could block the bullets.

Then, he realized—the bullets were actually being blocked.

As the thought of blocking bullets formed in his mind, tiny arcs of electricity began to dance around Max Dillon's fingertips. The incoming bullets shattered instantly upon contact with the electric arcs.

The barrage of bullets intensified, but Max Dillon's composure gradually returned.

He straightened his stance, tilted his head, and gazed at the shattered bullets falling before him. A thousand questions flooded his mind, and he made a confused expression akin to the "Black Guy Question Mark" meme.

Why is this happening?

Even as a former electrical engineer, Max Dillon couldn't figure out what was going on.

But understanding the mechanics didn't matter. What mattered was that with this new power, he no longer feared bullets—and could potentially do much more.

As the hail of bullets continued, Max Dillon extended a hand, and a crackling electric field surrounded him, blocking every shot.

Then, he raised his other hand, which also sparked with crackling electric arcs.

This miraculous scene once again captivated the surrounding crowd, eliciting a chorus of gasps. This time, Su Ye didn't even need to lead the reaction.

"Wow! Is this how electricity works inside the body? So amazing!"

"If you control electricity, are you invincible? I wish I could be like that—no more fear of getting mugged while walking alone at night."

"These special effects deserve a perfect score! This is how it should look—your country is at least ten years behind!"

"Unbelievable!"

Netizens worldwide who saw the footage also joined in the hype.

'American special effects are at least 20 years ahead of your country!'

'Both are humans, but American special effects are unbeatable. Your country couldn't catch up even if you tried!'

'Your country's special effects are trash, and so are your sci-fi films!'

Topics like these flooded forums across various countries.

Amid the noisy discussions, Max Dillon made his move.

With a wave of Max Dillon's arm, a fierce bolt of electricity shot out, striking an assault vehicle being used as cover. The vehicle was launched backward, slamming into a group of officers and flying over ten meters before crashing in front of the crowd.

The dust kicked up by the vehicle's crash and the burnt metallic smell it carried finally made the nearby spectators realize—this wasn't special effects.

One bystander, standing closest, even reached out to touch the wreck and almost collapsed on the spot.

"This isn't special effects! It's real!"

As soon as this person shouted, another vehicle was blasted away—this time, it flew farther, crashing directly into the crowd and knocking down a whole section.

"Ahhh!"

The crowd erupted in panic.

"It's not special effects—it's real!"

"Run! People are going to die!"

"What's happening up front? Stop pushing!"

Some, fearing for their lives, tried to escape, while others, driven by curiosity, insisted on finding out what was happening—even at the risk of death. The scene quickly descended into chaos, with shouts and screams everywhere.

Shouts and screams filled the air.

At that moment, a hidden sniper fired. The Barrett .50 cal, known as a "cannon," roared as its high-caliber bullet, capable of shattering a person's leg, whizzed through the air straight toward Max Dillon.

However, Max Dillon dodged it.

Even a sniper rifle couldn't hit him, but it managed to ignite an even fiercer rage in Max Dillon.

A bolt of electricity surged out once more, and before the sniper could react, he was reduced to a charred husk.

Consumed by anger, Max Dillon could no longer suppress his destructive impulses, and he began unleashing chaotic blasts of electricity in all directions.

With a wave of his hand, a police car was flung aside. Another wave, and an officer fell lifeless. A third wave brought down a wall, burying the onlookers beneath it.

In mere moments, Times Square had turned into a hellish scene.

"Who the hell said this was a 3D projection?!"

"Just run! Stop talking and get out of my way!"

"Stop pushing! Don't push!"

The crowd had grown too large earlier, and now chaos had erupted, making it nearly impossible to restore order.

"Backup! Requesting backup!"

The surviving officers quickly contacted headquarters for reinforcements. Headquarters relayed the message to nearby units while actively seeking external assistance.

Not long after, Su Ye's phone rang on the yacht. The caller ID showed it was Sharon Carter.

As soon as he answered, Sharon Carter's urgent voice came through.

"Boss, where are you? There's chaos at Times Square—seems like a super-criminal is causing trouble. The police are requesting backup."

Su Ye glanced around at the dark expanse of sea and shook his head. "I have no idea where I am—it's just water everywhere. Chaos and backup? Isn't that Coulson's job? Why are you calling me?"

"Agent Coulson has already deployed with his team. He told me to contact you. Besides, isn't our Red Shield division supposed to handle emergencies, including super-criminal incidents?" Sharon Carter said urgently.

"Heh," Su Ye chuckled. "Red Shield division? Has the official approval even come through? S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't even pay me, but they sure know how to use me when it's convenient."

There was a brief silence before Phil Coulson's voice came on the line.

"Mr. Su, the approval for Red Shield is in progress, but there's a lot of opposition, so it'll take some time. Could you maybe…"

"Who's opposing it?" Su Ye sneered. "Hand the phone to whoever's against it. Let them talk to me!"

Phil Coulson responded awkwardly, "I'll push the Director to speed things up, but the process does need to be followed."

Su Ye snorted, "You're right. The process is necessary. Even if we turn this boat around right now, it'll take at least two or three hours to get back. So, I really can't help you."

With that, Su Ye hung up the phone.

On the other end, Phil Coulson sighed and pulled out his phone to call Nick Fury.

The chaos at Times Square continued. Su Ye's clone had already left the scene with the crowd, while his real self on the yacht was watching the Times Square footage via satellite feed.

It had been over ten minutes since Max Dillon's rampage began.

During these ten minutes, Times Square had been as lively as a New Year's celebration.

Cars, neon lights, billboards, giant screens—explosions erupted like fireworks. Staircases collapsed in heaps, and the road was torn to shreds. Forget vehicles—people couldn't even walk normally.

Police officers at the scene suffered heavy casualties. Agents on the perimeter exchanged uneasy glances; their weapons were useless against someone who could generate electricity and even turn into pure energy. They were at a loss.

Phil Coulson felt like he was cursed when it came to electric-powered criminals. Not long ago, they had dealt with Thor, the god of thunder. Now, there was this electric blue man.

But the problem was, Thor had been handled by the Martial Saint. What were they supposed to do about this blue guy?

Sending regular people would be a death sentence. This was a job for superheroes. And this city had plenty of them—Spider-Man, Batman, Green Armor Hero, and so on.

But why, with all this chaos, had not a single superhero shown up?

Phil Coulson knew the Green Armor Hero was out at sea with Su Ye and wouldn't be back for a couple of hours. But what about Spider-Man and Batman?

Especially Batman—just a few days ago, he was eager to deliver a shield to the Martial Saint. But now, he wasn't even showing up to take a look?

Just as Phil Coulson was at his wit's end, a convoy of armored tanks arrived, and helicopters buzzed in overhead.

"Agent Coulson, you can pull out. The military is taking over from here!"

General Ross's voice came through Coulson's earpiece. The old man's tone wasn't pleasant—it was clear that past incidents, like the Abomination fiasco, had left him unhappy with S.H.I.E.L.D.

The Hulk was "killed," the Abomination was taken away, and all the destruction in Harlem, along with the injured civilians, was blamed on the military. Why should they take the fall?

This time, General Ross wasn't holding back. Since the military would be blamed for any destruction anyway, he went all out, deploying tanks and armored vehicles equipped with mounted grenade launchers—even multi-barrel rocket systems, known as the "Thunder God of the Battlefield."

General Ross silently vowed that even if it meant leveling Times Square, he would eliminate that troublemaker. He was determined to showcase the military's might and shut up the politicians constantly criticizing their budget.

After hearing General Ross's orders and seeing his equipment, Phil Coulson wasted no time. He immediately ordered his team to withdraw from the Times Square area.

Staying any longer would just mean getting caught in the crossfire for nothing.

Before long, the devastated Times Square was left with only a single figure of electric light, still floating in midair.

Max Dillon felt exhilarated. In over forty years of life, he had never felt this good.

He was on TV; he was the center of attention. Now, the entire world was watching him. He was more dazzling than any celebrity out there.

He was even more captivating than his idol, Batman.

That's right—Batman. In a world filled with superheroes, Max Dillon, now the Electrifying Man, no longer idolized Spider-Man, the "friendly neighborhood hero" focused on saving lone women. Instead, his hero was Batman, the nemesis of crime, who had even bested Iron Man before.

The black suit, the black helmet, and the black cape—it all matched perfectly with Max Dillon's own skin tone.

And now, Max Dillon was basking in a glory that even his idol, Batman, had never experienced. The feeling was intoxicating.

When General Ross's forces moved in, Max Dillon, of course, noticed. Manipulating the magnetic field through his electricity, he floated midair, looking down at the scene with a much clearer view than Phil Coulson had.

Though not a military enthusiast, Max Dillon could still recognize tanks and the multi-barrel rocket launcher that looked like rows of giant cigars.

These things looked powerful at a glance.

His body could withstand bullets, but could it handle artillery shells?

Max Dillon was once an electrical engineer—not the kind whose head was full of mush, getting by through connections alone. He was a genuinely skilled, highly educated, high-IQ professional who knew how to use his brain.

He didn't know if he could withstand artillery shells, but he was certain he didn't need to find out.

Only foolish villains would brag and overplay their hand, leading to their own downfall.

Max Dillon believed he could become a hero in the shadows like his idol, Batman. He couldn't afford to fail here.

In the distance, General Ross's tank convoy had just taken over the battlefield and hadn't even fully deployed when they saw a bolt of lightning streak toward them.