Seven minutes after the incident, the NYPD finally arrived in Chinatown.
Police cruisers pulled up outside the shattered gate of Victor Kane's mansion. Officers stepped out cautiously, hands near their holsters as they moved through the broken entrance.
Inside the courtyard, the scene stopped them cold.
Bodies were scattered across the ground—five or six men, each killed instantly.
Near the doorway lay Eddie's corpse, headless, the remains splattered across the walls and floor behind him.
Several officers instinctively covered their mouths as they stepped inside the room.
The air smelled like copper.
Blood and fragments of bone coated half the room.
In the center of the floor, someone had drawn a massive S with blood.
The symbol dominated the room like a signature.
Next to it lay Victor Kane's body. Unlike the others, his corpse looked almost intact—except for the back of his skull, which had been ground away as if someone had pressed his head against a grinder.
The officers exchanged uneasy looks.
After sweeping the mansion, they confirmed the worst.
Everyone inside was dead.
More than a dozen bodies.
Total time of the attack?
Less than two minutes.
The killer had moved through the place like a machine.
Precinct Chief Morgan stared at the scene grimly.
"Contact headquarters immediately," he said. "Victor Kane, leader of the Red Bell Syndicate, has been killed in his own residence."
He gestured toward the blood-marked symbol.
"Security footage confirms the same suspect from last night's two gang massacres."
One of the officers asked quietly, "You think this is some kind of vendetta?"
Morgan nodded slowly.
"This isn't random violence. It's targeted hunting."
He glanced around the ruined room.
"My guess? Whoever did this was mutilated by the gangs at some point. That kind of disfigurement doesn't happen by accident."
His eyes hardened.
"And now he's come back with the power to wipe them out."
"Looks like every crime boss in New York just became prey."
Across the city, Noah Vale stood inside a private training room at the Mines Fitness Club.
He gently touched the skin on his face.
The acid damage had completely healed.
The regenerated skin felt tight, almost new.
After eliminating Victor Kane's group, Noah had returned here to let his body finish regenerating. During the healing process, he'd discovered something useful—his internal energy seemed to accelerate recovery slightly.
Not dramatically.
But enough to shave off a noticeable chunk of time.
Good to know.
Still, Kane had only been the main problem.
The work wasn't finished yet.
Three gangs down, Noah thought.
Four more to go.
Killing Kane alone wouldn't be enough. Leaving the rest of the city's criminal leadership untouched would only invite future problems.
Better to finish the job properly.
One gang boss per day.
That was the plan.
Originally, Noah had intended to wait until the fourth or fifth target before going after Kane. But Kane knew too much about his past. If the man sensed danger, he might have disappeared entirely.
Or worse—tried to blackmail Noah into working for him.
Which would have been… insulting.
Still, the situation was becoming complicated.
After three gang leaders died in rapid succession, the entire underworld was likely on high alert.
If I keep pushing, Noah thought, there's a decent chance someone unusual gets involved.
Mutants.
Enhanced individuals.
Maybe even someone from the bigger criminal organizations.
That could get messy.
Which meant one thing.
He needed to get stronger—fast.
Noah grabbed the massive block of iron beside him and resumed training.
The weight was enormous, easily over a ton, yet he lifted it repeatedly as if it were oversized gym equipment.
Hours passed.
By the time the clock neared three in the afternoon, Coach Smith arrived.
Without ceremony, the coach picked up a thick steel rod.
Then he began striking Noah across the back.
Again.
And again.
Each blow rang through the gym like a hammer hitting metal.
The strikes were brutal enough to cripple an ordinary person.
Noah barely flinched.
By five in the evening, Noah finished his session.
His body had improved slightly again.
Not dramatically—but steadily.
That was what mattered.
Right now, he could easily lift roughly 3.4 tons with one arm. Each incremental increase in strength made a measurable difference, though the gains were becoming more gradual.
Which made sense.
Progress slowed the stronger he became.
Still, the small boost he'd gained from his earlier attribute points had accelerated his growth considerably.
It was like training with an invisible advantage.
Noah glanced at the clock.
Then he turned to Coach Smith.
"It's five. You can head home."
Smith looked surprised.
"Calling it early today?"
"Got something to take care of," Noah replied. "I'm meeting a friend."
He added casually, "Come earlier tomorrow. I'll start teaching you martial arts."
Smith's eyes lit up immediately.
"Tomorrow morning?"
"Yeah."
"Alright! I'll be here!"
The man left the gym practically grinning like a kid on Christmas.
Watching him go, Noah shook his head slightly.
Smith clearly believed a few weeks of training would somehow turn him into a fighter on Noah's level.
That wasn't how it worked.
Based on Smith's natural talent, even learning to generate a trace of internal energy would take months.
But there was a shortcut.
If Noah transferred some of his own energy into Smith, the process could be accelerated dramatically.
According to information he'd received from The Noble Blade, transferring compatible energy would only waste about twenty percent of it.
That meant if Noah passed on twenty years' worth of accumulated power, Smith would retain roughly sixteen.
Not efficient—but workable.
More importantly, Smith could serve as the perfect advertisement.
In about a month, Noah planned to trade the Purple Dawn Technique through the Interdimensional Chatroom.
Having a living example of its effectiveness would dramatically increase its value.
As for his own durability training…
He already had a temporary plan.
Spider-Man.
More specifically—
Peter Parker.
For long-term training, Noah had already asked Smith to contact industrial manufacturers about building a custom hydraulic press powerful enough to challenge his body.
But something like that would take at least a couple of weeks to produce.
Until then…
Peter would work just fine.
Noah picked up his phone from the nearby bench and powered it on.
He found Peter's number and called.
The line rang briefly before connecting.
"Peter," Noah said immediately. "You free right now?"
On a street corner across the city, Peter Parker winced and rubbed his back.
"Uh… maybe?" Peter said. "Why?"
A moment earlier he had been experimenting with his web-swinging between buildings.
One mistake later—
He'd slammed into the side of a structure and landed badly.
His back was still protesting.
"I just messed up my back," Peter admitted. "Might need a little time to recover."
"Oh really?" Noah said lightly.
Then he added, "Because I just found a part-time job that pays twenty thousand dollars a month. Flexible hours. Perfect for after school."
Silence.
Then—
"TWENTY THOUSAND?!" Peter practically shouted into the phone.
"Where are you?!"
Noah smiled.
"Mines Fitness Club. It's not far from my place. You can grab a taxi if you want—I'll cover the fare."
"Mines Fitness Club… got it."
Peter stretched cautiously.
Something in his back popped.
Actually… that felt better.
"I'll be there in thirty minutes!"
He hung up.
Peter stared down the street thoughtfully.
A part-time job that pays twenty grand a month…
What kind of job even paid that much?
Also—
He still hadn't asked Noah about that bank robbery incident.
Peter shook his head and started moving.
Taxi?
No way.
Even if Noah offered to reimburse him, Peter's instincts still leaned toward saving money.
Besides…
With his new physical abilities, running across the city was barely an inconvenience.
Peter took off down the street at full speed.
Thirty minutes was more than enough.