Chapter 693: U: The Infinite Event (9)

At that moment, in the shrubs outside the warehouse, Ward narrowed his eyes. He had heard the two gunshots, but no screams or other sounds of dodging bullets—this was not normal.

He intended to observe further, but within minutes, the warehouse erupted in fiercer gunfire, followed by a steady stream of screams. Ward could no longer wait—he recognized voices among the cries, including those of old acquaintances.

Though Ward now possessed special abilities, he did not immediately use them. Instead, he ran swiftly toward the warehouse like an ordinary man, crouched before a window, and peered inside.

The battle inside the warehouse was intense. Agents armed with various weapons were surrounding and attacking a single man.

The man was extremely agile and powerful, but more importantly, every bullet that struck him was absorbed.

Long-range weapons were useless, and close-quarters agents gained no advantage—the man clearly possessed exceptional hand-to-hand combat skills.

He swung a punch that knocked an agent to the ground, spun and delivered an elbow strike that forced Coulson back, ducked beneath a female agent's swing, and punched her squarely, sending her crashing down.

Ward could tell he was a professional boxer, and he knew the agents wouldn't hold out much longer.

Ward leapt through the window. By then, all the agents—including Coulson—lay sprawled on the floor.

"Who are you?" Ward asked first, drawing his sidearm and pointing it at the man, as if utterly unaware he could absorb bullets.

The man did not answer. Ward advanced quickly. The bald man showed no fear, tightened his core muscles, stabilized his stance, and threw a rapid punch—only to strike a yellow glow.

Yellow light erupted around Ward—the residual Yellow Lantern energy stored within him. In an instant, he reappeared behind the man and punched him hard, sending him flying.

Sensing danger, the man turned to flee. But as he reached the warehouse's rear door, he saw the 084 crate right before him.

He hesitated, then sprinted toward it, desperate to grab the crate and escape—when a dark shadow lunged. Coulson slammed a fist into the bald man's shoulder.

Coulson's ambush was effective. The bald man staggered back two steps, seemingly spurred by pain. He roared, muscles tensing, and punched Coulson with such force that he sent him flying.

But he wasn't done. He leapt high, brought his elbow crashing down onto Coulson's chest. The sound of cracking ribs was unmistakable. Coulson screamed, blood spurting from his mouth and nose.

Ward teleported instantly behind the bald man, seized his throat, and slammed him to the ground. Now he could see—the bald man's punch had torn a gaping hole in Coulson's chest.

This bald man, with his special abilities, was no ordinary human. His bare-handed strikes were enough to kill an adult like Coulson.

Ward knelt, placed his hand on Coulson's shoulder—but Yellow Lantern energy differed from Green Lantern energy. Though it could heal wounds on Yellow Lanterns, it could not restore life to ordinary people.

Ward was no true Yellow Lantern. He had no training, no idea how to wield this energy. Even as he frantically poured energy into Coulson, his life continued to slip away.

In the end, Ward exhausted all his Yellow Lantern energy—only slowing the deterioration of Coulson's wound. Other agents rose, lifted Coulson onto a vehicle.

The vehicle sped toward S. . . . . ., but Coulson was no Yellow Lantern. He had no experience controlling this energy, no idea how to use it to heal himself—or even how to preserve it.

Yellow Lantern energy brought more than just positive effects. It induced fear.

Lying in the vehicle, Coulson saw ward after ward filled with agonized patients, shambling out like walking corpses, moaning, accusing him endlessly.

The bloody scenes that once terrified him replayed in his mind. The wound that should have killed him instantly now festered, amplifying his agony. Mental and physical torment drove him to moan: "... ill me... kill me now..."

Coulson was the only friend Ward had ever known at S. . . . . . He wanted to save him. But as Coulson's will to live faded, the Yellow Lantern energy began to dissipate.

As the vehicle neared S. . . . . . headquarters—less than a hundred meters away—the last trace of yellow light vanished. Coulson's vital signs ceased entirely.

Ward slammed his fist against the car door. He and the other agents leapt out, carried Coulson's body into S. . . . . . base. Nick Fury immediately cleared all nonessential personnel, leaving only Natasha and Ward.

When Shieler arrived, Ward was already holding a syringe, preparing to inject Coulson.

"Wait—don't use the serum yet. Let me see." Shieler stopped Ward, stepped forward, and used his gray mist to scan Coulson's corpse. Unfortunately, there was no life left.

Repairing Coulson's body would not bring him back. At the moment of death, a person's soul departs for its destined place. If caught immediately, perhaps it could be pulled back—but minutes had passed. Coulson's soul was gone. Retrieving it now was impossible.

Yet, in prior experiments, the GH-series serum had proven capable of reviving the dead. But Shieler had been occupied lately, using Nal's energy to wrest the Bat Totem from Solus, and had never closely observed the revival process.

Upon confirming Coulson's death, Shieler stepped aside. Ward injected the GH serum into Coulson's body.

For the first few seconds, nothing happened. Shieler coated his eyes with magical energy and observed: Coulson's soul drifted back from nothingness, then willingly returned to his body.

Fixing his gaze on where the soul had appeared, Shieler sensed a familiar presence—Death.

Shieler realized: Coulson's revival worked like that of Egyptian cultists. Death had expelled him from the realm of the dead—and so he returned.

But Coulson had never made a pact with Death. The anomaly must lie in the syringe.

The serum's source—the descendant of the Kree spy—could not have made a pact with Death either. But the Kree Empire, one of the universe's three great powers, might have.

The next day, Shieler received the crate marked 084 from Ward. Inside lay a strangely shaped object.

Though called an Obelisk, it resembled a trophy. From TV plotlines, Shieler knew the Obelisk was corrosive—direct contact would cause catastrophic results. But rubber remained an effective insulator.

Shieler donned the prepared rubber gloves, reached into the crate, and as his fingers touched the Obelisk, he felt that familiar presence again.

He had sensed this same presence before—on the scale he had taken from the Ship of the Dead.

Shieler lifted the Obelisk from the crate, studying it closely. The half of his face not obscured by shadow curled into a sly smile.

He looked at the Obelisk not as a treasure, but as if it were a brand-new smartphone just delivered.

Meanwhile, at the Spider Legion's base, the Spider-Men were readying for deployment. Amazing Spider-Man spoke: "Even if the Heir family's base is gone, we must find their trail—else more Spider-Men will die."

"We can't split up again like before. We'll be picked off one by one. We must operate in teams..." Amazing Spider-Man scanned the group, then fixed his gaze on Peter.

"Which team do I join?" Peter rubbed his hands, eager. Amazing Spider-Man was about to assign him to his own team when Zhang Pak stepped forward, his tentacles blocking Peter's path: "He's mine."

Amazing Spider-Man advanced, staring at Zhang Pak: "What are you planning?"

"A brute who charges blindly, paired with a foolish kid who has power but can't control it—you'll cause chaos," Zhang Pak replied without mercy.

"Wait! Don't fight! Why not... rock-paper-scissors?"

Peter stepped between them. Both snorted. Finally, Amazing Spider-Man relented: "Fine. Go with him. But remember—if he tells you to do something wrong, don't do it..."

"Don't worry—I'm a Spider-Man," Peter said, then walked behind Zhang Pak and followed him away.

Gwen Spider stepped forward, watching Peter's back: "He's a lucky kid, isn't he?"

Amazing Spider-Man, unusually somber, replied: "I hope he cherishes this time. Soon, he may realize this was the happiest moment of his life."

Peter, following Zhang Pak, heard none of this. Soon, they arrived via transporter in another universe—the temporary base of Zhang Pak's Spider team.

After briefly assigning tasks, Zhang Pak returned to his room—and before leaving, he called Peter along.

Inside the room, Peter glanced around curiously. Zhang Pak looked at him: "Now, you should introduce yourself properly."

"Introduce? Didn't I already? I'm Peter Parker, alias Spider-Man, just started college..."

"I don't want that. No outsiders here." Zhang Pak's tone turned cold—utterly unlike Peter Parker's voice. "Tell me your entire life history. Everyone you've known. Your relationships with them."

"I'm not a criminal. Why are you interrogating me?" Peter frowned. "You tried to ambush me before. When I asked if we had a grudge, you said no—but I feel you hate me."

Zhang Pak fell silent, then said: "Yes. From the moment I saw you, I disliked you."

"Why?" Peter asked, baffled.

"Just answer one question..." Zhang Pak stepped forward, face-to-face with Peter. "... ave you ever lost anything?"

"What do you mean... lost anything?"

"Everything important. Everyone important. Everything you wanted to accomplish. Have you lost any of them?"

Peter stared at Zhang Pak. He stood still, thinking, then shook his head firmly: "No. Everything important to me—everyone important—is still here. Everything I wanted to do, I've done. Everything I'm planning is progressing smoothly..."

Zhang Pak suddenly laughed. "You arrived at the perfect time. This will be your last happy memory."

"I don't understand what you're saying..."

"Answer one more question." Zhang Pak lowered his head slightly. "Who told you 'With great power comes great responsibility'?"

"It was..." Peter paused, recalling. "Dr. Shieler. A good doctor. My teacher..."

"You'll lose him soon."

Zhang Pak stepped back two paces. Even through his mask, Peter saw the mockery on his face. "What are you talking about? Are you cursing him?"

"No. I'm not cursing him. We—all Spider-Men—are cursed." Zhang Pak's voice grew heavy. What he said next struck Peter like lightning.

"'With great power comes great responsibility'—that is our curse."

"Everyone who taught us this truth—everyone who ever said those words to us—they will die without exception."