On the same night Lin Xiao was about to arrive in New York, at 10 PM, the New York Police Department
Two Black men, wrapped in tattered newspapers, rushed into the police station, tears streaming down their faces. The one in front had lost his pants, and the one behind had lost his shoes. They were left with only a pair of ripped underwear and a few scraps of newspaper barely covering their private parts. Their feet were covered in mud, and their hair was full of sand.
"Officer! We need to report a crime!" The guy without pants slammed his hand on the reception desk, his eyes red like a child whose candy had been stolen.
Tell me, what happened?
The officer on duty looked up, glanced at them, then lowered his head again to continue writing his report.
"We're here to report a robbery! We've been robbed!"
Who stole it?
"Superhero!"
The officer put down his pen, leaned back in his chair, and wore a "I knew it" expression. This was the seventh group he'd seen that day. Ever since that so-called "superhero team" started operating on the streets of New York four days ago, the police station's reporting hall hadn't had a moment's peace. Criminals were either brought in bound like dumplings in spiderwebs, rolled into balls of sand, or hung upside down from streetlights with a note stuck to their chests, on which was written in crooked handwriting—"Received moral education, please check."
The most outrageous thing was that everyone who was captured was yelling and reciting the same thing: the " Eight Honors and Eight Disgraces " passed down from Dragon Country.
"Tell me," the officer said, pulling out his notebook, "What happened?"
"We, we were just passing by a jewelry store—" The robber without pants started to speak, but was kicked by his companion.
"Tell him the truth! If you don't, those two will come again soon!"
The robber, who had no pants, shuddered, his lips trembled several times, and finally his shoulders slumped.
"We... we were robbing a jewelry store. We'd just smashed the windows, and we hadn't even finished packing everything when those two showed up."
"Two?"
"Yes, a spider woman in white and a wizard in black robes. The spider woman hung us from a lamppost, and the wizard—"
He swallowed hard, a deep fear appearing in his eyes.
"That wizard, he's forcing us to attend classes."
"Class?" The officer paused, his pen still.
"Yes, class," the classmate next to him chimed in, his voice trembling. "He made us memorize the Eight Honors and Eight Disgraces. I didn't even finish elementary school, and he made us memorize the Eight Honors and Eight Disgraces! He wouldn't let us leave if we couldn't memorize them! He said it was moral education, free of charge, but there was an education fee. We didn't have any money, so he made us hand over all our valuables, saying that his uncle had said there had to be an education fee. They even took our belts! Our belts!"
He tugged at the last remaining tattered newspaper on his body and let out a mournful howl.
"They even said they'd check our recitation next time we saw them! We just couldn't remember it, so we called the police!"
There was a moment of silence in the reporting hall.
The officer on duty looked down at the densely packed words in the notebook, took a deep breath, stood up, pushed back the chair behind him, and walked into the chief's office.
George Daisy sat behind his desk, a thick report spread out in front of him. The report was titled "Summary of Superhero Team Activities." He rubbed his temples, took a sip of his now-cold coffee, and without looking up when he heard the door open, began to speak:
"Those two again?"
"Yes, Chief. This is the seventh case tonight. The Spider Woman and the Black-Robed Wizard use the same modus operandi: subdue them first, then educate them, confiscating money or other items as 'education fees.' This time, they've added a new trick: they're conducting random checks on memorization."
George put down his coffee cup, his expression extremely complicated. He'd been a policeman for so many years, seen all sorts of criminals and vigilantes, but he'd never seen anything like this. They caught criminals more diligently than the police, educated them more earnestly than schools, and confiscated stolen goods more thoroughly than the tax bureau. And he knew exactly who the Spider Woman in the white dress was.
His daughter, Gwen Stacy.
His gaze swept over another document on the table. It was a thank-you letter from several welfare institutions, expressing gratitude to anonymous donors " Ghost-Spider " and " Super Fool " for their generous donations over four consecutive days. The letter was worded very formally, but the figures were clearly stated—the total donations had exceeded $80,000.
$80,000. Where did a 17-year-old high school student get $80,000? The answer is obvious: it was educational funds extorted from criminals.
George closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
He knew his daughter was doing the right thing. He was even secretly proud of her. But as a father, as a police chief, watching his daughter leap across the streets of New York every night, risking her life against armed robbers, his blood pressure never dropped to normal. What's more, now there was a kid in a black robe and a fat man wearing an Uncle Sam mask.
"Chief," the officer began cautiously, "should we contact S.H.I.E.L.D.."
George opened his eyes, his lips moved, but he ultimately shook his head.
"Take the man into custody first. File the police report as usual—say that you received assistance from the volunteer police and the suspect has been handed over to the police. Also—" He paused, a hint of weariness in his voice, "Tell the patrolmen to avoid the old warehouse district lately. That's their territory."
The officer paused for a moment, but didn't ask anything, nodded, and left.
George sat alone in his office, picked up his now-cold coffee and took another sip. In the distance outside the window, a blurry white figure swung across the rooftop and vanished into the night.
His brows furrowed even more, but the corners of his mouth unconsciously curled up slightly.
Meanwhile, in the skies above Queens, New York, Iron Man's gold and red armor drew an arc in the twilight. Tony Stark leaned against the suit, his fingers swiping across a virtual screen. JARVIS pulled up the police reports from tonight; a dense array of red dots covered a map of Manhattan and Queens.
"Sir, the activity of the Ghost-Spider and the Super Fool has increased exponentially over the past 72 hours. The New York Police Department's reporting center is currently operating at full capacity."
"I see." Tony zoomed in on a red dot, and a police report recording popped up next to it—a man's voice, choked with sobs, shouting something about the " Eight Honors and Eight Disgraces " and "Even my belt was taken away."
Tony's expression became extremely subtle. This move, this style, this tactic that made people grit their teeth in anger yet powerless against him—he was all too familiar with it. He turned off the recording, a slight smile playing on his lips.
" JARVIS, where is the target now?"
"An armed robbery is being handled in the old warehouse district, at the intersection of Seventh Avenue and Brooklyn."
"Let's go take a look."
The thrusters ignited, and the golden-red armor cleaved through the twilight, flying towards Brooklyn.
In an abandoned auto repair shop in the old warehouse district, three armed robbers knelt on the ground, hands covering their heads, tears streaming down their faces. Gwen Stacy hung upside down from the steel beams of the ceiling, twisting the three captured pistols into a pretzel. Peter stood in front of the three robbers, wearing the modified hoodie that Lin Xiao jokingly called the "flashy black-robed wizard outfit," the hood pulled low, revealing only his chin and a mouth that was talking incessantly.
"Therefore you must understand that robbery is not only illegal and criminal, but also a degradation of one's own dignity and a trampling of social order."
One of the robbers looked up, his lips trembling, "I didn't understand..."
"It's alright, I'll send you a handout in a bit, study it carefully when you get home. There will be a spot check tomorrow." Peter pulled out a stack of crumpled printed papers from his black robe—Lin Xiao had given them to him before leaving, printed with an English translation of the "Outline for the Implementation of Civic Morality Construction in Dragon Country." He didn't know when Lin Xiao had printed them, nor why Lin Xiao always carried them with him, but he knew that they were indeed quite useful now.
"Now, the tuition fees." Peter stuffed the lecture notes back into his black robe and opened his palm. "Five hundred each. Cash or collateral?"
"We have no money--"
"That tattooed guy said the same thing last time. Later he found out he actually had money."
The robbers looked at each other, then shakily pulled out their wallets. Peter's movements as he collected the money were clean and efficient, and he and Gwen Stacy worked together perfectly—the Spider Woman was in charge of hanging the robbers, the black-robed wizard was in charge of giving the lesson, and after they were done, they packed up the criminals and dumped them at the police station entrance. The stolen money was divided into three parts: one part was anonymously donated to an orphanage, one part was kept for Ned as a "strategist's allowance," and the remaining part was kept to buy equipment.
Since adopting the "superhero team" label, their crime-fighting efficiency has increased at least threefold. Gwen Stacy's Spider-Sense combined with Peter's stunt double makes it impossible for criminal activities within a few kilometers to hide. Although Ned can't fight, he sits in front of a computer wearing an Uncle Sam mask and can simultaneously monitor more than a dozen police channels and social media leads, making him a veritable human intelligence center.
The only side effect was that the New York Police Department's reporting hall was nearly bursting at the seams.
"Alright, that's all for today's lesson." Peter folded the banknotes, stuffed them into his pocket, and turned to call it a day.
Just then, a low humming sound came from above.
A golden-red armor descended from the sky, its thrusters kicking up a cloud of dust as Iron Man landed steadily at the entrance of the auto repair shop. His visor popped open, revealing Tony Stark's flamboyant face.
Good evening, New York superheroes.
Gwen Stacy reacted faster than Peter. The instant the visor popped open, she fired a web, aiming precisely at Tony's face. Tony dodged to the side, and was about to say something sarcastic when Peter's hands were already raised—the sand scattered on the ground seemed to come alive, shooting into the sky and coalescing in mid-air into hundreds of sand spiders the size of fingernails, swarming towards the gaps in Iron Man's armor.
"Interesting—" Tony raised his palm cannon, about to fire, when another spider web struck his wrist, the muzzle completely entangled in the Silk. He ripped the Silk apart with a burst of strength, and a two-meter-high sand wall rose up in front of him. Just as he blasted through the sand wall, a white figure used the elasticity of the Silk to fly over and kick him hard in the chest armor.
Tony staggered back half a step. Before he could regain his balance, the sand spiders had already found the gaps in the armor's joints and crawled inside. Sand seeped into the suit's mechanical structure, rubbing against the wiring and bearings, and JARVIS's alarms went off incessantly.
"Sir, the joint transmission system is being affected by sand particles, resulting in a 20% decrease in maneuverability."
Tony glanced down at the gap in his armor that was still leaking sand, then looked up at the two boys in front of him, who were assuming fighting stances. Gwen Stacy was hanging upside down from the ceiling, Peter stood behind the sand wall, and the Fool slowly unfurled his enormous form behind him.
Tony suddenly smiled. Not the flamboyant, provocative smile he had shown before, but a genuine smile, tinged with a hint of relief.
"Alright, that's it." He put the palm-sized cannon back into standby mode and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know whose side you're on. Peter, right?"
Peter paused for a moment, then subconsciously pulled his hood back, revealing a face slightly flushed with nervousness.
"Uncle Tony?"
"The last time we met was when we were having hot pot at your house. Your Aunt May even made waffles, and you secretly poured muscle-building powder into the flowerpot, thinking I didn't see it. Besides, I've looked into your parenting style, and it's from Dragon Country. Dragon Country's parenting style and shameless... cough cough, clever methods... I immediately guessed it was that guy Lin Xiao. He's not around now, and the person you've been in contact with the most is you, Peter? Right?" Tony strode over and patted Peter on the shoulder.
"It's me." Peter scratched his head sheepishly. "But after we recognized you, we held back. We probably only used half our strength."
"Who was that girl? Let me guess, wasn't it Gwen Stacy, right? Two days ago, Stark Industries recorded that a young girl bought nanomaterials saying she was for research. That's when I noticed your file, and the equipment you're wearing today includes nanomaterial technology." Tony turned around and looked at the white figure hanging upside down from the ceiling. "If your dad knew you kicked Iron Man in the face in that abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn, how high would his blood pressure spike?"
Gwen Stacy released the Silk, performed a backflip, and landed steadily. She removed her mask, revealing her exquisite face. A hint of defiance shone in her blue eyes, but the corners of her mouth were slightly upturned.
"My dad's blood pressure has already gone up because of me. One more time won't make a difference."
Tony's lips twitched, and he waved to the two of them.
"Alright, I got it. Next time you come to Stark Industries, I'll help you upgrade your equipment."
After saying that, he put on the Iron Man armor again, the thrusters reignited, and he soared into the sky. After flying out of the warehouse area, Tony wiped away non-existent cold sweat from his forehead.
"A monster's nephew is a monster too," Tony muttered, as his thrusters spewed out two white flames, transforming into a golden-red arc that disappeared into the night sky.
Inside the warehouse, Peter and Gwen Stacy stood side by side under a sky full of stars. Gwen Stacy pulled her mask back up, stretched her wrists, and turned to look at Peter.
"Will you come again tomorrow?"
"Come here." Peter pulled his black robe's hood up again, the Fool slowly shrank behind him into a large, sandy-yellow spider, quietly perching on his shoulder. "But we'll have to switch areas tomorrow. Seventh Avenue has been cleared out; the last job tonight is those three we just saw."
"Shall we go to Manhattan?"
" Manhattan won't work. Your dad will find out."
"He found out a long time ago." Gwen Stacy rolled her eyes. "You think he didn't know who was sending the donations to those orphanages?"
Peter opened his mouth, unsure what to say. Gwen Stacy ignored him, and as she spoke, she shot out a Silk, her body swaying lightly in the night breeze, her voice drifting back, somewhat muffled by the wind.
"Continue tomorrow -- remember to print several copies of the handouts -- Ned said the printer is almost out of ink --"
Before she finished speaking, she had already disappeared among the buildings, leaving only a silvery-white Silk that shimmered faintly in the moonlight.
Peter gazed in the direction she had disappeared, a smile playing on his lips. The Fool perched on his shoulder, its eight legs slightly curled, the face on its back slowly closing its eyes.
"Let's go." Peter patted the sand spider on his shoulder and turned to walk in another direction.
In the darkness, a corner of his black robe was lifted by the wind, revealing the T-shirt Lin Xiao had given him underneath. Printed on the T-shirt was a line of crooked red writing, penned by Lin Xiao himself with a marker—
" The Super Fool, Peter Parker: Never Forget Education Fees; Keep the Eight Honors and Eight Disgraces in Mind."
P. S.: Thank you all for your continued support. It is because of you that I have the motivation to keep writing. This book is wonderful because of you.
Thank you to Xue Feifei from the Shura Hall for the 6 love-fueled donations!
Thank you: Please have mercy! Here are two donations made out of love, and a like.
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Love you all, thank you for your support, family!