Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics

Although he said he would go get the medicine soon, Peter didn't go until the afternoon because Matt's leg continued to bleed slightly. Even after several dressing changes, it was already afternoon by the time they finished.

Peter didn't have time to eat before leaving, so when he arrived at the clinic, he was greeted by a tantalising aroma.

Upon hearing the doorbell, Shiller came out to see a young man in a sweatshirt standing in the doorway, sniffing hard as if trying to inhale all the aroma into his stomach.

Shiller wiped his hands and said, "Come in."

Peter scratched his head and said, "Good afternoon, sir, a friend of mine asked me to come here and pick up some medicine. He said you would know."

"Oh, I know," Shiller said. "But you'll have to wait until I finish eating. He's not in a rush, is he?"

Peter said, "Not really, his bleeding has stopped. He's just in a lot of pain so he needs some painkillers."

"Have you eaten?" Shiller asked. Peter blushed, feeling that it was probably his ardent gaze towards the kitchen that had given him away to the doctor.

Shiller said, "If not, stay and have something to eat. You can also take some back for Matt."

With that, a yellow creature trotted out with a big bowl, sniffed it vigorously, and then licked its lips, as if it couldn't wait to dig in.

Shiller had prepared a Chinese meal of rice, sweet and sour ribs, hot and sour potato strips, along with a bowl of tomato and egg soup.

Dizzy with hunger, Peter stared at the spread and found himself unable to refuse.

Since developing his spider powers, Peter's appetite had greatly increased. After finishing an entire rice cooker full of rice, Peter felt genuinely embarrassed. He put down his bowl, his ears burning, and said, "I'm really sorry, doctor, it seems I've eaten all your food… um, I can pay for it..."

"No, not necessary," Shiller said. "I was going to cook another pot of rice anyway, as I still need to take some home for my old friend. There are still some ribs in the pot. Serve them up yourself, put them in the lunch box in the cupboard and take them back for Matt."

Spider-Man went into the kitchen and not only cooked another pot of rice, but also cleaned all the pots and dishes.

Shiller found this version of Spider-Man quite likable.

In contrast, Pikachu had stuffed himself round and was snoring on a chair after eating. Shiller tugged at his lightning-shaped tail and said, "Even if someone else is doing the dishes today, that's still no excuse for you to skip work. Go throw out the trash."

"Oh, sir, I can take it out on my way," Peter said.

"Alright, I appreciate it. By the way, there are no garbage disposal fees in Hell's Kitchen. Just go straight ahead, around the corner. There's a pile of junk there, and you can toss the trash over there."

With two large bags of kitchen waste in hand, Peter went out the back door of the clinic and immediately saw the spot Shiller was referring to. It was some distance from the clinic and was piled high with broken bricks, discarded wooden boards, and other people's trash, emitting a strong odor.

There were a few beggars near the trash piles, filling their bellies with other people's leftovers or unwanted kitchen waste.

When Spider-Man walked over there, these beggars were on the other side of the rubbish pile and he didn't see them. Whether it was because he was full or because the Chinese food that Shiller cooked was just too delicious for him, Peter found his gloom lifted. He happily carried the two bags of trash, sprinted a short distance, then forcefully flung the bags, which landed on top of the waste pile.

"Bingo!" Peter shouted. He used to do the same thing when he and Uncle Ben took out the trash, tossing the bags from a distance into the trash bin. But back then, he didn't have the strength and often ended up having Uncle Ben clean up his mess. Peter thought to himself, the next time they took out the trash, he was definitely going to show his uncle his newfound strength.

Just as he was throwing the garbage bag up, it burst open, scattering leftover bones, trimmings from Shiller's cooking, some leftover potato strips, and a half-sprouted potato. The beggars watched on as though presented with a feast and scrambled to get a share.

The waste pile had formed a small mountain, and the beggars had to step on broken bricks and wooden boards to climb up. Just as they were struggling to climb up, Peter saw a beggar falling.

Feeling somewhat guilty, Peter took a running start and got halfway up the pile, intending to climb to the top and retrieve the garbage.

The beggars, however, were no Spider-Men with superpowers. Weakened as they were from hunger, an elderly woman who was nearest to the top lost her grip on a piece of junk and fell backward.

Spider-Man had just reached the top of the pile when he saw a beggar slipping off. He reached out to grab her, but was a step late.

The pile was a dangerous mix of smashed bottles thrown down by drunkards, rebar, and protruding splinters of wood. Any of these could have been deadly had anyone fallen on them.

Fortunately, Peter had superpowers. He quickly bent down and caught the falling beggar. But before he could feel proud, there was a loud bang, closely followed by a sharp, piercing screech of brakes and the dull sound of an impact.

Blood splattered, Peter turned his head, looking in disbelief towards the nearby intersection, recognizing the flying figure all too well.

It was Night Devil.

A huge amount of blood spilled from the spot he had landed, the strong smell of it making the world in Peter's eyes hazy red.

Frenzied, he rushed down, finding Matt lying there, his eyes, nose, and mouth bleeding heavily. His spine was twisted into a strange shape, appearing to have been broken.

He had not yet died, but having lost the nerves connected to his brain, he was completely immobile.

Peter trembled, without hesitation, he picked Matt up and dashed in through the back door of Shiller's clinic, shouting, "Doctor! Doctor! Someone needs treatment over here!!!"

At one glance, Shiller knew Matt may have been ambushed by an assassin again, he instructed, "The garage is just next door, get him into the car, and get him to the Elders Council Hospital right away."

Only the best hospital might have a chance to save such a severe injury.

Shiller accelerated wildly through the streets of Manhattan, getting Matt to Elders Council Hospital as quickly as he could. He had some influence at this hospital, and Matt was rushed to the emergency room almost immediately.

However, the attending doctor soon informed them with a somber expression: "This gentleman's chances of survival are not great, it is a regret he does not have the ability to prepare a will or give verbal instructions. If any of you are his relatives, perhaps you might wish to see him one last time."

Peter was on the verge of breaking down, all the things connecting together in his mind. He never thought that the person the mob wanted to assassinate that day turned out to be Daredevil Matt, the only good person in all of Hell's Kitchen.

He couldn't accept that all of this was caused by him. If he had gone and killed those mobsters when he first heard about this, or even if he had just told Matt about it, he would have certainly been more careful.

If he hadn't lingered in the clinic to eat and left right away after getting his medicine, Matt wouldn't have come out to find him.

If he hadn't been messing around, not throwing those two garbage bags so high, he might have had time to tackle Matt to the ground as the car came charging forward.

He had so many chances to save his friend, but he didn't manage to do anything.

Night Devil was dying, Peter just couldn't accept this fact.

Shiller, however, was calm. He asked the doctor, "Where is his main problem? Lungs? Neurosurgery? Or internal trauma?"

The doctor shook his head, "None of those, it's his spine. The nerves are probably irreparable. Even if his life can just barely be saved, he'll be immobile for the rest of his life."

Shiller took in a deep breath, "I just want to know what can be done to save him."

The doctor hesitated for a moment, saying, "Perhaps Dr. Strange can do something. He's the best neurosurgeon here. Maybe he's the only one who could reconnect so many nerves."

Shiller immediately turned around, saying, "Peter, I'm going now to find someone who can save Matt, but you must stay here, you understand, Matt being rushed to the hospital will not dissuade those who want to kill him. After I leave, you must ensure that absolutely no one enters the operating room. I'll be back as quickly as possible."

With that, he immediately left.

Peter shivered as he repeated to himself, "No one will enter the operating room, no one will enter the operating room, I won't let anyone in..."

After Shiller left the hospital, he dialed Pepper directly and said, "I need to get the home address of a doctor named Strange."

Without asking why, Pepper quickly sent an address to his phone. It was not far from the Elder Council Hospital—a luxury apartment nearby.

Shiller immediately used Flash, arriving at the apartment building as quickly as possible. He didn't bother with the elevator or knocking, and instead, phased through the walls to appear directly behind Dr. Strange, who was currently taking afternoon tea.

Strange turned around at the slight noise to find Shiller's cane pressed against his throat.

"Listen, I don't have time for small talk. A friend of mine is critically injured and now in Elder's Council Hospital. You're the best neurosurgeon there. Go get your stuff and prepare for surgery now."

Strange sported a ridiculous expression. Shiller let go of his cane but it continued to hang in midair, pointing straight at Strange. Strange raised his hands and took a step back. His cane was floating, unheld, yet pointed at his neck.

With a hand gesture, the coat hanging in the closet flew towards Shiller. Strange looked on in disbelief. Shiller tossed the coat too Strange and said, "I think you understand. You don't have the right to refuse. Come with me now."