Chapter 7: Pray That the Hero Does Not Die

The gun's bolt was pulled back swiftly as he lowered his hat and emerged from the shadowy corner into the center of the battlefield. Daredevil was exceptionally powerful, wielding two batons to effortlessly knock down a dozen ninjas. The inherent goodness of humanity is perhaps the greatest gift from God; although the ninjas were all incapacitated, not a single one was killed. Seeing this made Peter involuntarily smile—it was a gift, and thus it was also a sin...

"Who's there?"

Amidst the calm of battle, a steady footstep echoed in his ears. The approaching figure was not a ninja but more like an ordinary person, as ninjas did not approach with such deliberate steps. Turning to look at the newcomer, he crossed his batons again and knocked down two more ninjas, precisely striking their necks to render them unconscious.

"Why don't you kill them? Don't you realize that what they can do to you today, they will do to others tomorrow?"

"Who are you?" 

Taking a defensive stance, Daredevil cautiously backed away, his instincts warning him that the man speaking was likely his enemy. Peter did not receive an answer, and judging by Daredevil's demeanor, he seemed in no mood to answer questions. Thus, Peter felt no need to waste words. He raised his gun and fired in one fluid motion, but Daredevil crouched and rolled to dodge the bullets, turning to flee.

"Can he really be blind?!"

Peter simply raised his arm; the moment he pulled the trigger, no one could be faster than the bullet leaving the barrel—unless he was a mutant or possessed some superpower. Daredevil, however, appeared to be just a blind man with slightly better physical conditioning than an ordinary person. The degree of his agility surprised Peter greatly.

Chasing quickly, Daredevil moved with the grace of a parkour expert, deftly navigating the surroundings like a nimble black cat. In just a few moments, he scaled a ladder and leaped onto the rooftop, leaving Peter feeling compelled to applaud. Grabbing the ladder with one hand, he couldn't match Daredevil's fluidity and instead climbed up quickly. In mere seconds, Daredevil had put thirty or forty meters between them. Frustrated, Peter raised his guns and fired multiple shots at Daredevil.

The sounds rang out almost simultaneously, the bullets striking closer to Daredevil, whose speed began to falter. He ducked behind the chimney, holding his breath to gauge Peter's position. Gunfire erupted again, but this time it sounded more like celebratory shots into the air. The sound of shattering debris filled the air, creating a cacophony that disrupted Peter's hearing. With his focus unwavering, he suddenly heard a massive explosion from the other side.

A grenade—one that cost thirty points to exchange for a skill—had to be redeemed. While Peter could use grenades from this world, they wouldn't unlock advanced skills for him. Skills like Firestorm, Ice Storm, or Thunderstorm sounded impressive, but he needed to reach level five on grenades to learn them. Losing thirty points now felt like a stab to his heart.

The explosion caught Daredevil off guard, sending him flying. He quickly rolled to the edge of the rooftop, grabbing onto an iron frame to avoid a five-meter fall. Cursing ensued as footsteps echoed nearby because their location was in a lower-income neighborhood, and the noise soon masked Peter's presence.

It was excessive to treat a blind man this way, but one must understand that Kingpin was offering fifty thousand for a live Daredevil. All Peter had to do was deliver Daredevil to Kingpin, collect the money, and then pray in a church, perhaps activating Daredevil's hero aura to escape Kingpin's clutches and wait for the next opportunity to catch him.

This was what they colloquially termed "raising a pig"...

Daredevil sprinted toward his hidden base, but then the second grenade exploded just five meters away. The shockwave propelled him once again, and as he fell, he quickly regained his footing. Sensing someone approaching rapidly, he gripped his baton tightly in front of him, anticipating a kick. He could strike at the attacker's knee joint, and then...

Bang!

The metal baton was knocked from his hands, his palms splitting open and blood flowing freely as he was thrown back five or six meters against the wall. Daredevil coughed up blood, losing consciousness. Peter rubbed his knee; at the moment of the side kick, he felt completely out of control. Once he initiated the kick, his body became like a game character with invulnerability, ignoring all damage. He had to complete the entire move, and even if a Gatling gun were aimed at him, he would still execute the kick flawlessly.

He had tested his attack privately; it was roughly five or six tons of force with just the first level of the side kick. He couldn't even imagine how powerful it would be at level five. God knew if he maxed out this skill, he might be able to kick the Hulk around like a soccer ball. The thought made him chuckle as he approached Daredevil, preparing the rope to bind his arms. As for severing his tendons, he wanted to see if Daredevil's protagonist halo would protect him from escaping Kingpin's grasp. There was no need to complicate matters for Daredevil.

After removing Daredevil's mask, he took out his phone to snap a photo as evidence for later blackmail. He then slung Daredevil over his shoulder and headed toward Kingpin's lair. No one dared to approach him along the way. Shadows of ninjas could be seen lurking, but they didn't dare intervene. These ninjas, who worked under Kingpin, must have felt enraged, especially after he stole their meal ticket. They had worked hard all night, only to have their spoils snatched away...

***

"**I'm looking for you!**"

As the sun rose high in the sky, the curtains were drawn open, flooding the bedroom with bright light. Peter shielded himself with the blanket as a woman beside him, clad in lingerie, glanced at her phone and then gently tapped him. The woman was none other than Morse's secretary, Selina—a stunning figure with a body that was as exceptional as her face. After experiencing her, Peter couldn't help but revise his earlier assessment. 

What made Peter feel more embarrassed was that in this world, he was a novice, and in the previous world, he had little experience as well...

"I'm quite satisfied!" 

The woman unabashedly dressed before Peter, soon transforming into a polished version of herself. As she left, she turned back to blow him a kiss. While it seemed to imply a potential for future encounters, Peter felt that the excitement from the previous night had left him feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Ultimately, it was his own inexperience that was to blame. 

"Ugh! How embarrassing!"

Experience is always filled with countless lessons; no matter the type, it serves as a guide throughout your growth and future life, helping you navigate social interactions more effectively. But all these excuses stem from the fact that he hadn't even lasted three hours. The mixture of excitement and nervousness paired with a lack of experience...

These were all just excuses!

"Maybe I should look for some supplements, but I'm supposed to have a superhuman body. How the hell do I supplement that..."

Getting out of bed to wash up, he picked up the clothes scattered on the floor. Thankfully, there were no violent rips; his clothes were still intact. After drying his hair, he opened the door and headed downstairs. He didn't quite understand how he had ended up bringing Daredevil to Kingpin, only to find himself acting like a possessed man in the bar later that night. 

It was around two in the morning when the bar was at its most indulgent. Seeing his secretary again, he had pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. Perhaps he really had been holding back for too long.

Alcohol, romance, and violence are the three primary ways to indulge in one's emotions. The first needs no elaboration; while drowning sorrows in drink can lead to greater despair, a brief intoxication often lightens the mood upon awakening. The second is more laborious, requiring cooperation from another. The third is a precarious dance; one must be careful not to let violence become the target of violence.

Taking a deep breath, he settled onto the empty bar stool. Before long, Morse approached with a distinctively sleazy grin. Peter raised an eyebrow at the old man, whose expression seemed to say he hadn't expected this side of him. The secretary stood by with a smile, not encroaching on their conversation. Neither would harbor feelings for the other; it was merely a matter of breeding hormones, nothing more. Perhaps the secretary merely viewed him as a target for her collections.

"Stop smiling already; what's so important that you had to wake me up?"

Peter surmised that the old man knew about his inexperience. The secretary's mouth had been busy last night, and any skilled individual could tell from the basic movements whether their partner was a seasoned lover or a novice. Clearly, she had far more experience than he did.

"I need you to help me rescue someone."

Another black card appeared—his tasks were far from complete, and he hadn't even clocked in yet. Now, a second assignment had come down. He seemed to have taken on four jobs in the past two weeks, a frequency that felt excessive. New York had been stirring with unrest lately, and all sorts of shady characters were beginning to emerge.

"This woman looks too…"

The woman had black skin and an enormous, frizzy hairstyle. He found her unattractive, at least not to his taste. Her name was Misty Knight, and she had been incarcerated at North Hole Prison for twenty years since the day she entered. She was also a disabled veteran with an amputated arm. Curiously, he picked up the photo and shook his head. The old man sighed as he pulled out a cigar from his pocket, lighting it and taking a deep drag.

"I met her mother when I was fifteen, but due to certain reasons, we never ended up together. However, this girl has had a rough life…"

"Your daughter?!"

"Fifty thousand to get her out of prison; where you take her is up to you."

"Isn't that price a bit steep for my status?"

"I'm just asking you to make a trip to the prison. Isn't that a simple task for you?"

"God could destroy the world easily, but that hasn't stopped countless people from pleading with him, has it?"

"Are you trying to extort me?!"

"Twenty thousand is the lowest price. I gave Kingpin two hundred thousand for Daredevil."

"...You damn bastard!"