This kid really was his kind of person.
It was only then that Ben finally got a clear look at Jonathan’s face.
For some reason, he looked rather familiar.
“Uncle Ben!
Are you all right?”
While Ben was still studying Jonathan, an anxious voice suddenly rang out nearby.
He turned and saw Peter Parker—the very person he had been searching for.
“Jonathan!
What are you doing here?”
Only after confirming that Ben had no obvious injuries did Peter suddenly notice Jonathan standing beside him.
“I was out for a nighttime run when I happened across this.
I took care of it while I was here.”
Jonathan shrugged, speaking as though it were nothing important.
Peter lowered his head and looked at the robber lying on the ground, bound as tightly as a dumpling.
He recognized the man immediately.
This was the same person who had tossed him the bottle of milk earlier.
Peter was quick-witted.
Once he connected the events, he immediately understood what had nearly happened.
If Jonathan hadn’t stopped the robber in time, Uncle Ben’s personality meant he would certainly have tried to subdue the man himself.
And at Ben’s age, no one could predict what might happen if he got into a real struggle.
With a little bad luck, he might not have ended up in a hospital, but a morgue.
Peter’s face went pale at the thought.
His earlier decision to stand aside and allow a crime to happen now felt like a slap rebounding straight into his own face.
Regret, guilt, and suffocating unease surged through him all at once.
He raised his head and looked at Jonathan, his voice trembling slightly.
“Thank you, Jonathan.
Seriously…
The arrogance that had risen within him after suddenly gaining power was extinguished as though someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over his head.
Only now did Peter truly understand that power wasn’t something meant to make him feel superior.
First and foremost, it came with responsibility.
He didn’t even dare imagine what would have happened to him and Aunt May if Uncle Ben had truly died tonight.
“Oh, I remember you now.”
Ben suddenly slapped his forehead.
“I saw you at the school earlier today.
You’re one of Peter’s classmates, right?”
“Yes, Uncle Ben.”
Peter’s eyes were slightly red, but he still tried his best to act as though nothing was wrong.
“This is my good friend, Jonathan Hale.
We’re in the same class.”
Then he turned toward Jonathan.
“Jonathan, this is my uncle, Ben Parker.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Uncle Ben.”
Jonathan politely greeted him first.
“Nice to meet you too, Jonathan.”
Ben extended his hand and shook Jonathan’s.
As they shook hands, he couldn’t help studying the young man a few more times, his eyes filled with admiration.
Just after the introductions were finished, the portly store owner finally came running over, panting heavily.
Sweat covered his forehead, and the flesh on his face shook with every breath.
The instant he saw the robber on the ground, he kicked him without saying a word.
The robber immediately let out a howl.
Still unsatisfied, the owner followed up with several more vicious kicks, forcing the man to curl into a ball.
Even Jonathan, Peter, and Ben couldn’t be bothered to intervene.
As long as he didn’t beat the robber to death on the spot, no one was going to stop the owner from venting his anger.
After several more kicks, the fire in the owner’s chest finally subsided somewhat.
He wiped away his sweat and turned toward Jonathan.
“Thank you, young man.
Seriously, thank you.”
Jonathan merely nodded without saying much.
After all, the store owner wasn’t exactly a decent man himself.
They remained there guarding the robber in the cool night breeze.
Only after quite some time did the police finally arrive at their usual leisurely pace.
Once they had taken a few simple statements, the officers allowed them to leave.
Unlike Peter and Ben Parker, Jonathan didn’t live in this neighborhood.
After briefly saying goodbye to Peter, he left first.
Budapest, Hungary.
Inside a subway station, Jonathan’s figure once again appeared in this perpetually gray world.
The sky here always seemed to be covered by a thick layer of filthy glass.
It was oppressively gray and suffocatingly gloomy.
From a distance, Budapest looked as though every warm color had been drained from it, leaving the city cold, bleak, and forbidding.
Jonathan walked out onto the street.
A frigid wind swept in from the far end of the road, carrying the mingled scents of metal, moisture, and the old city’s brick walls.
After obtaining the Coordinator genetics, memories that had once grown vague—or had even been forgotten entirely—were gradually becoming clear again.
For example, Michael Corvin’s home address.
That was right.
Even though Jonathan had already plundered the Perfect Blood from Michael’s body, he had no intention of simply leaving the man alone.
More precisely, what Jonathan planned to do next could, in a certain sense, still be considered saving Michael.
After all, Michael no longer possessed the Perfect Blood.
If he still followed the original plot and allowed Lucian, the leader of the Lycans, to bite him, the consequences probably wouldn’t be pleasant.