Chapter 65: Little Spider

In the end, it was Matt and his girlfriend Erica who were responsible for teaching Peter how to drive.

After Matt’s previous severe injury, he and Erica resolved their differences and reconciled.

Of course, after breaking free from the Hand’s brainwashing, Erica realized she had acted impulsively—that Peter had only wanted to protect Matt—and she felt some regret for stabbing him; so when she learned from Matt about Peter’s difficult driving lessons, she and Matt took it upon themselves to help Peter practice.

To be fair, Erica was far more reliable than the others; though she was a ninja female assassin, she showed considerable patience in teaching.

That day, Peter was attempting to drive alone, with Erica and Matt sitting in the car, discussing Kingpin.

“I’m going to make him pay one day!” Peter said. “He used such low tactics against you.”

“Don’t act rashly. My feud with Kingpin is complicated, and he’s the most famous crime lord in America—you’re not ready to take him on yet.”

“What about Bullseye? Isn’t he still in Hell’s Kitchen? I’m going to beat him up tonight.” Peter said.

Erica said: “Things are bad right now. After learning about the Dragon Bone, Kingpin didn’t immediately target the Hand—they seem to have reached some kind of agreement. Worse still, Kingpin may have hired the Hand.”

“That doesn’t make sense. The Hand cares deeply about the Dragon Bone. If they knew Kingpin wanted it too, they’d betray him in the final stage. Doesn’t Kingpin know that?”

“That’s the worst part. Even though Kingpin knows the Hand would never truly cooperate with him—or hand over the Dragon Bone—he’s still willing to hire them. This means there’s something we don’t know, something that makes Kingpin willing to risk the Hand turning against him.”

“Has he been involved in any big deals lately?”

Erica’s expression turned serious. “If you must know, you should already be aware—his drug business.”

“You mean that plan he abandoned earlier?”

“What are you talking about?” Peter said, gripping the steering wheel. He didn’t understand the coded talk between Matt and Erica. At this point, Spider-Man hadn’t yet clashed with Kingpin—Matt, the Daredevil, was still the one primarily fighting him.

“Kingpin’s drug operations on the East Coast have hit a bottleneck. He’s seized most of the market, but he’s not satisfied.”

“I once received intelligence that Kingpin wants to target younger students—using his network of operatives in universities and high schools to sell addictive drugs to children. Eventually, he hopes to break his own sales records.”

Peter slammed his fist against the steering wheel and muttered a curse, then said: “Ever since I decided to become a hero, people have kept shattering my limits of what’s possible. How can they have no humanity at all?”

“You’ll see even more monsters like this in the future,” Matt said.

His calm tone gave Peter a sense of strength.

The car turned from the main road onto a side street. It was late, and Peter wanted to drive Matt’s car back first, then resume practice tomorrow.

But as they turned, a blinding flash of light struck them. Peter instinctively covered his eyes, then his spider-sense flared—he immediately flung open the door and jumped out.

*Bang!* Several shurikens pierced the windshield and struck the driver’s and passenger’s seats.

Peter looked up. Shadows leapt from nearby high-rises, accompanied by clouds of black smoke. In flashes, they closed in on the car.

After months of training, Peter was no longer the complete rookie he once was. He rolled sideways, dodging a volley of shurikens, then leapt upward and slammed a ninja off the car roof.

His strength was immense—the ninja dissolved into smoke and vanished instantly.

Another ninja yanked open the car door—but the seat was empty. A dagger flashed coldly. Erica appeared beside the car, eliminating one ninja before flicking her wrist, sending shurikens that drove off another.

Matt wasn’t in the car either. His senses far exceeded normal human limits—he’d heard the shurikens mid-flight and had already taken out the ninja at the rear. He walked over, staff in hand, saying: “These guys are a pain. Last time we only killed one. This time, they all escaped again.”

Peter shook his numb wrist and said: “What’s going on? Have they been attacking you lately?”

“Erica and I moved apartments because our old place was constantly harassed by these fleas.”

Peter said: “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy lately and never visited. If I’d known you were in trouble, I should’ve come sooner.”

“You’re better off staying away. These people aren’t something brute force can handle. Even Erica and I need traps to kill one. In ambushes like this, they just vanish.”

Erica, dagger in hand, stepped back into the car. “You can’t counter their stealth techniques. You need special methods to break them.”

“Should we keep driving? What if they come back?”

“Don’t you see? They’re not here to kill us—just to harass us.”

Peter got back in the car. This time, Erica drove. Peter said: “But what’s the point? They can’t hurt you…”

“We aren’t afraid of them—but our neighbors are. They know that to protect ordinary people, I have to keep moving. That seriously disrupts my ability to strike back at their operations.”

Erica continued Matt’s thought: “This is the Hand’s classic tactic. Whoever opposes them, they send these immortal ninjas to harass relentlessly until the target flees the area.”

“These ninjas have low offensive power, rarely kill, vanish without a trace, and leave no evidence—so local authorities have almost no reason to intervene.”

“That’s precisely Kingpin’s brilliance. He uses the Hand’s ninjas to harass me, keeping me too distracted to interfere with his business upgrades. He knows killing me outright won’t work quickly—it’d only bring fiercer retaliation. But this fly-like harassment slows me down immensely.”

Erica turned the steering wheel as she spoke: “Perhaps that’s also why he chose to cooperate with the Hand. Your earlier actions inflicted heavy losses on him. Even though Bullseye nearly succeeded, you reappeared soon after—and dismantled several of his underground gambling dens even faster.”

“He’s realized that sending constant harassers is better than hiring assassins who keep failing to kill you.”

Matt sighed. He was equally helpless against this situation.

These ninjas were annoying. They could lower their heartbeats so Matt couldn’t detect their exact positions for long, appearing at his home every few days—throwing shurikens, setting fires, causing chaos. Landlords didn’t care about harassment—they just evicted tenants.

As a lawyer, Matt originally had a decent apartment in Manhattan. His Hell’s Kitchen shack was merely a base. But those ninjas kept showing up to disrupt him—he had to move again and again, draining immense energy.

A Daredevil’s day only has twenty-four hours. He used to sacrifice sleep to fight crime. Now, he spent days writing briefs and attending court, nights moving and packing, leaving only a few hours after midnight to patrol. Efficiency plummeted. His stamina was failing.

Kingpin had perfectly exploited Daredevil’s weakness: Matt was still a social being. When faced with such trouble, to maintain his public identity, he’d inevitably waste enormous time.

Erica had her own troubles. The Hand executed traitors without mercy. She’d been absent too long—Kingpin had grown suspicious. Bullseye kept seeking chances to kill her and reclaim his position.

Peter said: “I can’t help you fight these ninjas, but at least I can go after Bullseye first.”

“Be careful,” Erica said. “Bullseye isn’t ordinary. He’s a circus master—his martial arts are exceptional, and he’s cunning.”

“Perfect. I haven’t faced a real opponent yet.”

“Didn’t that rich guy Stark make you a suit? To fight Bullseye, you’d better wear it constantly. He’s skilled with projectiles—but if your suit blocks his weapons, he’ll be far easier to handle.”

“The suit’s still being tested. Yesterday, I got a call from Mr. Stark—he wants me to come to his building. It should be ready in a few days.”

As the car pulled up near Matt’s residence, they got out. Matt said: “Think carefully. Once you strike at Bullseye, you’ll enter Kingpin’s direct line of sight.”

“Fighting Kingpin is true life-or-death. It’s nothing like beating up robbers or thieves in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“He’ll use every cruel, imaginable—or unimaginable—method to kill you. He could become your lifelong nightmare. Wherever you go, you’ll have to watch for his assassins—just like me.”

Peter stood on the other side of the car, watching Matt. Streetlights were out. Only faint reflections from apartment windows glimmered on the car windows.

Peter asked: “Do you regret it? When you lay on that operating table, did you regret getting involved in all this?”

“If I hadn’t gotten involved, I’d be in some luxury apartment downtown, preparing for tomorrow’s trial. Maybe I’d be thinking about when to propose to my girlfriend. Maybe I’d wonder whether to get a dog…”

Erica said: “Now you’re like a rat on the street. Forget a dog—even if you kept a tropical fish, its corpse would appear at your bedroom door the next day.”

“I didn’t think this through. Did you think I spent a year planning before acting?”

“Actually, I charged headfirst into this abyss, fueled by hatred and rage,” Matt said.

“Though I very much hope you become a superhero—your abilities could save many lives. That’s why I’m willing to teach you.”

“But I’m not trying to deceive you. I must warn you: fighting Kingpin means there’s no turning back.”

“You must be both just and strong. Lose one, and you’re dead.”