Chapter 3: Peter Parker

Queens, New York. Daws Elementary School lets out at two in the afternoon. To conceal his identity, poor Luke had no choice but to comply with his adoptive parents’ arrangements, and after many years, he once again joined the ranks of elementary school students.

He was currently carrying a small backpack, with Lotus tucked inside it. Moving with the flow of students through the corridor after school, Luke followed behind a little boy.

This boy was from the neighboring class. He was about the same height as Luke, looking frail and delicate, as if a gust of wind could knock him over. At age seven, barely a meter tall, he was considered short among his peers, especially in this country where children tended to mature early.

The boy had brown hair, was Caucasian, and his name was Peter Benjamin Parker.

Luke had learned this after some simple inquiries—easy enough for someone with the soul of a twenty-year-old in his body. According to Peter Parker’s classmates, Peter was fostered with relatives: his uncle was Ben Parker, and his aunt was May Parker.

There was no doubt: this was the future Spider-Man. For now, though, he was just a little kid, a tiny, tiny spider.

Finding Peter Parker was an unexpected delight for Luke.

Once he confirmed Peter’s identity, Luke kept a close eye on him, hoping to find a chance to approach.

Passing the broom closet in the corridor, a pair of hands suddenly reached out and pulled Peter Parker inside.

Luke paused, surprised, stopping in his tracks. The other children were filing out, oblivious to the scene; the school bus was already waiting at the gates.

Inside the broom closet, four boys confronted Peter: two Black boys and two white boys, two of whom were quite overweight. All four were posturing, clenching their fists, trapping the skinny Peter Parker in the corner.

“Parker, remember what I told you? Don’t leave after school. Or are you forgetful?” one of the Black boys said, pointing at Peter’s chest with a menacing tone. He towered over Peter, easily a head taller.

“I—I didn’t mean to bump into you earlier,” Peter stammered, shrinking further into the corner.

“But you did bump into me,” the Black boy growled.

“I’m sorry…” Peter apologized.

“Is that enough?” the Black boy pressed, as the others closed in, their knuckles cracking. “Maybe you need to learn to respect me. Who’s the boss here, huh?”

Just as a beating seemed inevitable, a sigh came from the broom closet’s doorway.

Luke appeared, looking at the scene before him and thinking, how could such little kids already be bullying their classmates? Or perhaps, how could Peter Parker be bullied at such a young age… He only remembered the story where Peter endured bullying in high school.

“Who are you?” the Black boy turned and, seeing Luke, sneered, “Chink.”

“Hey, hey, that’s not very polite,” Luke said, spreading his hands.

“Chink!” the Black boy repeated, joined by the others in a burst of laughter.

“You know, I hate two kinds of people,” Luke said, shrugging. “One is racists. The other is… Blackies.”

The Black boy’s expression darkened instantly. He glared at Luke, pointed at him, and told his companions, “All together now! Get him!”

The four boys charged at Luke with loud cries.

Luke smirked; he couldn’t pass up such an opportunity. He stepped forward, gathering his energy, and unleashed a short punch.

The short punch was a primary skill of the Martial God in DNF, and in reality, it was a famous fighting technique, popularized by Bruce Lee. It was all about simplicity, agility, power, and ferocity—generating maximum force in minimal space.

Thanks to the system, Luke’s mastery of the short punch was exceptionally high. In terms of technique, he was highly proficient—better than most adults after years of training.

Of course, he couldn’t match Bruce Lee in actual combat. His own physical strength limited the punch’s power, given this body was just seven years old. If he were grown, he believed he could surpass Bruce Lee.

Even so, dealing with a few unruly kids was more than enough.

Peter Parker, cowering in the corner, barely saw what happened—Luke dispatched the four bullies with three punches and two kicks, leaving them sprawled on the floor, groaning.

“Chinese Kungfu!” the Black boy exclaimed, eyes wide in astonishment.

“Since you know it, why aren’t you running?” Luke feigned another punch.

From inside the backpack, Lotus shouted, “Finish them off, Luke!”

“Run!” The bullies, terrified, scrambled to their feet and fled in a panic, disappearing down the corridor.

Luke dusted off his hands, showing not the slightest interest in pursuit. He hadn’t used even a third of his strength, careful not to injure them. For situations like this, scaring them off was enough. He wasn’t a lunatic like Lotus.

Luke couldn’t help but reflect: today, he had finally achieved a great feat—punching the South Mountain retirement home, kicking the North Sea kindergarten!

Yes, he’d done it!

“Hey, I’m Luke Nelson. And you?” Luke approached the corner, looking at the stunned Peter Parker, asking as if he didn’t already know.

Nelson was his adoptive father’s surname, as recorded in his school registration.

The dazed Peter Parker quickly recovered, saying, “I’m Peter, Peter Parker. Thanks for helping me chase off those guys. Thank you!!”

“It’s nothing,” Luke replied with a smile.

“Really, thank you. Those guys are awful,” Peter said, his gratitude overflowing. He had often been bullied by those four; at the slightest provocation, they would make him stay after school.

He couldn’t fight back, so he could only hide.

In American culture, “telling the teacher” wasn’t an option—it would be even more humiliating.

Luke’s swift and decisive defeat of the four had deeply impressed and inspired the future Spider-Man. Peter knew about Chinese kung fu, and now he was excited, begging Luke to show him more moves.

Luke, feigning depth, said disapprovingly, “Martial arts are for fighting, not for show.”

Peter thought that made perfect sense. He looked up to Luke with newfound admiration, as if seeing a lofty mountain before him.

At that moment, the system prompted Luke: Peter Parker’s favorability +10.

A barely perceptible smile tugged at Luke’s lips.

This was exactly his purpose in getting close to Peter.

Favorability was incredibly useful; with a full score, he could copy their skills. Spider-Man’s web-slinging, wall-crawling, and healing abilities were highly coveted. At present, Peter’s favorability was only 10; he needed 100 for full access.

As an adult, Luke didn’t think this would be difficult.

Having helped Peter out of a tight spot, Luke naturally befriended him. The two left the school together, boarded the bus, and sat side by side.

Just as in the story, Peter was friendly and talkative—a chatterbox. Luke was quickly overwhelmed, beginning to doubt whether befriending little Spider-Man was wise. Lotus was noisy enough already.

The bus passed a roadside billboard, where the big screen was showing news footage of Iron Man soaring through the sky.

Peter immediately pressed his face to the window, mouth half open in awe. “Cool!” At this age, the little Spider-Man was already a devoted Iron Man fan.