A Happy Aunt May, Leaving the Zombie Universe

Aunt May drank the potion, and her face, pale for nearly a year, rapidly flushed with color.

Spider-Man cried out in disbelief.

To Spider-Man, this visibly rapid recovery was like watching magic.

At the same time, Aunt May's vitality was recovering frantically, as though she had boarded a rocket back from the brink of death.

Healing was an ability countless people longed for but could never obtain. Spider-Man only knew that Superman possessed powerful regenerative abilities, but he had never seen Superman use that regeneration on someone else.

However, Spider-Man had misunderstood. It was clearly a bottled potion—how could he think it was Superman's ability?

All that could be said was that Spider-Man's way of looking at things was sometimes rather strange.

"Mm..."

After an unknown number of minutes, Aunt May suddenly let out a soft groan and slowly opened her eyes.

The long darkness had left her pupils unable to endure the stimulation of the room's white lights.

She closed her eyes again, then slowly adjusted before opening them.

Her vision gradually focused, and then she saw Spider-Man staring foolishly at her beside the bed...

"Peter?" Aunt May called.

The moment the words left her mouth, Aunt May herself was startled.

Whenever she had hazily awakened before, she had felt as if her entire body were submerged in icy seawater, prickling with pain and weakness.

But now, she could speak without feeling any pain in her throat?

And it seemed like her body no longer hurt either.

What was going on? Had she failed to hold on and already died?

Aunt May sat up instinctively. Very good—she felt no different from her healthy former self. It looked like she really had died.

She got up and climbed out of bed. Her movements were a little stiff, but these were