"Did you hear? That guy Flash..."
"He's truly too despicable; that guy's existence is a disgrace to Midtown High School!"
With the spontaneous promotion of the students on the school bus, Flash's "despicable" reputation spread throughout the school as if it had wings.
In the cafeteria during lunch, the voices were all discussing Flash.
Nowadays, Flash is like yellow mud falling into his pants; even if it's not crap, it's crap now!
Listening to the whispers of the students around him, Peter finished his last bite of lunch with satisfaction and then quietly left the cafeteria.
This complete social death was exactly the ending he had carefully prepared for Flash.
Due to the fact that his public identity could not be exposed, he really couldn't kill Flash directly.
But through this method, he could make the other party lose everything they once had.
This was also his standard of conduct in this new life.
If others don't provoke me, I won't provoke them; if they do, I'll pay them back twofold... The school sports equipment room.
It was sparsely populated here, so there was no need to worry about being heard.
Even more, there was no need to worry about being detected by S.H.I.E.L.D.'s satellite surveillance; it was a perfect place for him to practice the Rasengan.
Just as Peter had imagined.
By simply setting the Chakra injected when using the Rasengan into a mathematical model, practicing the Rasengan became twice as effective with half the effort.
He didn't even need to bother with water balloons, air balloons, or rubber balls; Peter just normally tried to form the orb, controlling variables by writing and drawing on scratch paper over and over again.
After working for just one lunch break, a high-speed rotating blue light orb appeared in his hand.
Looking at the blue light orb in his hand, Peter hesitated for a moment before pressing it directly onto the floor of the equipment room.
With a loud boom, the solid floor of the equipment room was instantly blasted into a large pit over two meters in diameter and more than half a meter deep.
After using the horse talisman to restore the pit to its original state, Peter couldn't help but nod in satisfaction.
The Rasengan was complete!
And its power far exceeded Peter's imagination; with the power of the Rasengan combined with the immense strength he already possessed, it was unlikely any supervillain in the Spider-Man Universe could take a direct hit.
Even Iron Man's armor would likely suffer local damage if hit by one.
"With the Rasengan, I temporarily have no shortcomings in terms of destructive power, and I feel even more confident about pulling off a 'black-on-black' robbery tonight."
...As night fell, Peter, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, used the excuse of going to Gwen's house for tutoring and successfully left home.
After leaving, Peter quickly turned into an alley, pulled up his hood, and covered himself tightly with a mask and sunglasses.
It couldn't be helped; due to limited funds, he could only cosplay as a bank robber for now... After completing his disguise, Peter moved like a ghost through the shadows of the skyscrapers and soon arrived at the famous Manhattan neighborhood... Hells Kitchen.
Slowing his pace, he concentrated on listening to the sounds around him.
Peter soon heard some interesting news while passing a car repair shop.
"Listen up, boys! Tonight's shipment is very important; Mr. Kingpin worked hard to get a share from Mrs. Gao!"
A hoarse, gravelly voice clearly reached Peter's ears.
"As long as we pull this off, each of us will get at least this much!"
"The location is Pier 9 in Brooklyn, half an hour from now. The other party is a group of Russians. Remember to bring your gear and watch out for them trying to double-cross us!"
Kingpin? Mrs. Gao?
Hearing these two names, Peter's steps came to a sudden halt, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.
Wilson Fisk, on the surface a successful businessman in New York City, was secretly the "Underworld Kingpin" who controlled New York's entire criminal Underworld.
And Mrs. Gao was a high-ranking member of The Hand and a well-known drug lord in Hells Kitchen.
He didn't expect that his first time out "jungling" would involve the business of a big boss.
This is really... great!
After all, the more famous the guy, the easier it would be for Peter to obtain items for sacrifice from them!
At this thought, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up.
I choose you! Fatty Kingpin!
...Brooklyn, Pier 9.
This place had been abandoned for many years; the sea breeze was filled with the salty smell of rust and seawater, and the dim streetlights cast claw-like shadows from the surrounding containers.
Over a dozen gang members with weapons tucked into their lower backs strolled around, smoking and chatting, their eyes vigilantly scanning the surroundings.
Before long, the roar of car engines came from a distance.
Three black sedans drove onto the pier, the doors opened, and a group of burly Russians jumped out.
The leader, with a Mohawk, asked in heavily accented English:
"Where is Fisk? Why didn't he come to see me personally!"
"Our boss is very busy; for such a small matter, there's no need for him to show up in person."
On Kingpin's side, Scarface stepped forward and replied with a fake smile.
Scarface then snapped his fingers, and a lackey behind him opened a briefcase containing packages wrapped in tape.
Noticing these packages, the mohawked leader of the Russians' eyes lit up.
He immediately called his men to carry two heavy metal briefcases down from the car.
The boxes were opened, revealing neat stacks of crisp new US dollar bills.
Just as both sides had inspected the goods and were about to exchange the money for the products.
"Swish!"
A faint sound of something cutting through the air rang out.
The next second, a burly man standing on the outer edge collapsed straight down without even having time to groan, his neck tilting to the side.
A small pebble had appeared in the center of his forehead.
"Sniper!"
Scarface reacted extremely quickly, instantly roaring out while drawing his pistol, rolling on the spot to hide behind a car, his dark muzzle pointing straight at the Russians.
The Russians were stunned for a moment, then became furious.
The local gangs were too impolite, actually using such a framing tactic!
"Stop them!" the mohawked man roared, and his lackeys immediately pulled out guns to exchange fire passionately with the gang members.
The mohawked man himself grabbed the money case and took the opportunity to rush toward a black sedan.
However, just as he was about to pull the car door open.
A figure dressed in black suddenly flashed out from behind a nearby container, pouncing like a predatory leopard.
The mohawked man was also an old hand; the moment he heard the movement, he pulled the trigger without thinking, intending to empty the entire magazine!
However, he had only fired two shots when he felt a black shadow rapidly approaching.
Bang!
The mohawked man only felt his vision go dark before his consciousness plunged into endless darkness.
Splat~
At the same time, a dazzling red and white substance splashed onto the car window, nearly scaring the driver inside to death on the spot!
Oh God! What did he just see?
A Russian strongman weighing over two hundred pounds actually had his head punched into an explosion by that masked man who looked well-proportioned and slender?