Encounter

Feeling himself falling, Peter hurriedly stretched out his other hand.

Fortunately, the web-shooter on his left hand still worked. But because of his habits, he had just looked for an anchor point on his right to fire a web at, and using his left-hand shooter to fire in that direction was clearly impractical.

So, in his haste, he could only search for a suitable anchor point on the left.

Free-fall speed was very fast.

Even with Peter's quick reflexes, he had no time to think too much in that rush and could only pick a spot that seemed close enough.

Snap!

Feeling the firm tension transmitted through the web, Peter relaxed.

"Good, now this is what I imagined—aaah! It's not good enough to change direction yet!"

Because of the angle being off, Peter's body nearly crashed into a car below.

At the critical moment, he grabbed the web with both hands and exerted force below his waist, nearly folding himself in half.

Whoosh—

His butt felt chilly.

He vaguely felt his ass cheeks scrape against the metal roof of the car.

But this was not the time to worry about that.

"Watch out, watch out! Spider-Man Express coming through!"

Peter shouted, trying to amuse himself through the pain.

"Waaah!"

The web finally swung to its highest point. Peter slammed directly into the edge of the third floor of an apartment building, then fell onto the second-floor fire escape, and finally dropped from its edge and crashed onto the ground.

"Ah! My back!" Peter groaned on the ground. This body's integration with the Spider Gene apparently had not yet reached its peak, and its durability was somewhat lacking.

That collision had likely hit his spine, leaving his body suddenly unable to exert any strength.

"Sorry, buddy, this really isn't my fault. Who knew the web-shooter you made would fail at such a crucial moment?" Peter muttered to himself, apologizing to the other consciousness in his body.

Even though this was his second transmigration, he still did not quite understand what state he was currently in.

Had he temporarily borrowed another Spider-Man's body?

Or had he temporarily merged with another Spider-Man?

Well, either way, apologizing first could not hurt.

Just then, several figures in the distance briskly approached Peter, who was lying on the ground.

As they walked, they pulled out white masks and then took out weapons such as metal rods and pipes.

The leader said, "Who's going to call the boss? Tell him we've got that masked clown!"

Spider-Sense jolted Peter awake. He barely raised his head to look over. His night vision allowed him to see the outfits of the people in the dark. "Who... are you?"

But the leader merely strode over to Peter's side and looked down at him. "Let me guess. You must be that Spider-Boy who's been causing trouble all over the neighborhood lately, right? Looks like you're not that amazing after all!"

"Ha, is everyone into wearing masks these days?" Peter assessed his physical condition. His body, damaged by that intense impact, was rapidly healing. This injury seemed instead to have stimulated his body's potential, further increasing the genetic integration rate.

Probably another minute?

No, thirty seconds would do!

Peter silently calculated.

"Beat him!"

But these people clearly had no intention of giving him a chance to catch his breath.

The four surrounded Peter and rained punches and kicks on him. A tiger brought down to the plains really was bullied by dogs.

Fortunately, these guys had no intention of taking off his mask.

Peter tried to amuse himself through the pain.

As for their punches and kicks?

They hurt a little, but only a little.

The damage they dealt was not even as fast as his body's self-repair.

But this could not go on.

If his body's total healing capacity was 1, then if that entire 1 were originally used to repair his spine, it could be fully healed within a minute.

Thirty seconds would be enough for him to regain control of his body.

But now, outside injuries were diverting at least 0.3 of that 1 to repair themselves.

The remaining 0.7 used to repair his spine would require more time.

And there was no telling whether these people would get more and more excessive.

If only something could distract them and give me a chance to heal properly, Peter thought.

"Ah, you guys, ah... is this, ah... all you've got? Ah." Peter tried to achieve his goal with words.

"I heard this guy loves talking nonsense?" the leader said.

"Why not throw him into that garbage pile over there? There's plenty of 'trash' there too!" Another thug offered a malicious suggestion.

"Good idea. Come on, lend a hand. One, two, three!"

Thud!

Peter's body was lifted by three people and tossed onto a pile of black garbage bags stacked beneath a wall nearby.

"Oh, damn, this really feels like home," Peter said with a grin.

"What are you laughing at, kid?" The thugs approached again, preparing to keep playing with Peter's body.

Peter smiled. "Nothing. Just this!"

He raised his left hand and fired a web upward. His body followed it a short distance up the wall, then he stopped with his back against the wall using his wall-crawling ability.

"Wall-crawling bug! You think we can't do anything to you just because of that?" the leading thug said coldly.

"No, no, I don't doubt your abilities, gentlemen," Peter said. "But I have a question. I wonder if you could answer it for me."

The thugs all stared coldly at Peter, seemingly considering how to get him down from the wall.

Peter continued on his own. "Why are you dressed like that? Are you imitating Friday the 13th? But don't you think that stuff is outdated?"

Friday the 13th, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, and The Texas Chain Saw Massacre had protagonists collectively known as the four classic killers in American film history. Its protagonist, Jason, wore a hockey goalie mask and carried a machete while dismembering teenagers.

And the outfits of these thugs were nearly identical to Jason's.

But that movie had come out in 1980. It was ancient.

"Shut the hell up, you little punk!" the leading thug snarled. "If you've got the guts, come down here!"

"Okay," Peter readily agreed and actually jumped down.

"Y-you actually came down?" Even the leading thug was stunned by what he had done.

Peter shrugged. "Can't help it. One of my good qualities is that I listen to advice, unlike you guys—"

As he spoke, his body suddenly sprang into motion.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

A rapid series of impacts rang out, and four figures collapsed to the ground.

"I told you it was outdated. You had to do it anyway, and you wouldn't listen. See? This is what happens."

Afterward, Peter fired webs from his left-hand shooter, tied each of them up separately, then placed them together and wrapped another layer around them.

"Now this is much more fashionable. Like pigs tied up for slaughter—never goes out of style in any era."