I'm not Spider-Man, even though I'm parasitized by an alien!

Peter stood up after a second of silence for the tragically deceased "Grey Wolf Boy".

The wind outside the window howled even more fiercely.

Turning his gaze away from the window, Peter walked to the safe, took out all the money inside, and put it into a bag he grabbed at random.

After finishing, he used a lighter to light the document.

Once the flames started to rise, he threw the documents at easily flammable parts such as curtains.

The fire, fueled by the night wind, grew rapidly and soon engulfed the entire room.

"Call the fire trucks and urge them to speed up! Also, evacuate the surrounding residents immediately."

New York Police Commissioner George Stacy, who stepped out of the police car, gave instructions to his subordinates.

Fortunately, there were no residential buildings around the house, so even if the fire started, it wouldn't spread to other places.

After receiving the emergency call, George Stacy rushed over, but she was too late.

Frowning, feeling the heat of the rolling flames before him, he took a step back and pressed his hand against his throbbing temples.

The recent operation against the Hand resulted in the arrest of a number of members suspected of drug trafficking.

Unexpectedly, the other party immediately retaliated against his daughter.

Although Gwen was ultimately unharmed, the incident still annoyed and frightened him.

But before he could unleash his anger, the Hand suffered a series of mishaps.

First, the group of thugs who tried to kidnap Gwen were found dead in an alley.

Then tonight, someone called the police claiming that the Hell's Kitchen Hand headquarters was on fire.

The fire couldn't be extinguished anytime soon, so George Stacy let out a sigh of relief, pausing to think about these headaches.

Who made the emergency call?

He turned to his men and asked.

"We don't know yet; it seems the person who called the police did so from a public phone."

His subordinate replied to him.

George nodded and fell into deep thought.

He always felt that someone was orchestrating all of this behind the scenes.

It seemed as if a pair of eyes were watching all of this unfold.

George Stacy looked up, gazing at the skyscrapers on the distant horizon.

The line of sight kept widening until it stretched out until nothing could be seen clearly anymore.

At the edge of George Stacy's line of sight, on the rooftop of an office building.

He was the one who made the emergency call.

Even though the police extinguished the fire, most of the items inside were burned.

A cool night breeze was blowing as Peter reached out his hand.

With a slight thought, a layer of black exoskeleton immediately covered his arm.

The arm, encased in an exoskeleton imbued with a frenzied killing intent, gave him a vague feeling that his arm could withstand any harm.

The alien's exoskeleton is copied onto its own body.

So am I becoming more and more like a half-human, half-alien?

After a while, he lowered his arm and took out his phone.

His face was reflected on the phone screen.

Staring at his own face on the screen, he fell into complicated thoughts.

Children parasitized by "beasts" will sprout and grow like seeds.

They could either become powerful warriors or be devoured by the "beast" within them and die.

And isn't the person within themselves, carrying an embryo, also a vessel for nurturing a "beast"?

They might either die from having their chest "pierced" by the alien embryo, or they might be lucky enough to survive.

The difference between the two is that if the "beast" inside one's body is released, it may be more deadly and dangerous than any other "beast".

Putting his phone in his pocket, Peter snapped out of his tangled thoughts, glanced at the burning Hand in the distance, and then turned and left the rooftop.

The next day, early in the morning.

Parker's house.

Uncle Ben was sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper when he saw a news item and exclaimed to Peter and Aunt May in surprise, "There was a fire in Hell's Kitchen last night."

Aunt May was stirring a fruit salad when she heard Uncle Ben's words and frowned. "I hope everything's alright. I used to volunteer there. Although the area is a bit unsafe, there are also a lot of good people there."

"An organization for the treatment of homeless people, right?"

Uncle Ben put down his newspaper. "I remember you used to be involved with this charity organization."

"Yes, the FEAST organization, being able to help homeless people, there is nothing more meaningful to me than that."

Aunt Mei felt that her volunteer work was very meaningful.

The two were completely oblivious to their conversation, unaware that the culprit behind last night's fire was none other than their own nephew.

"Peter? Would you like some salad?"

Aunt May spoke with her husband for a while, then held up a fruit salad and asked Peter, who had been silent all along.

"No, thank you, Aunt May."

Peter looked up and said to Aunt May, "I've already eaten."

"You only ate a little cheese. You're in a stage of growth right now, so you can't be picky about food."

Aunt May thought Peter's appetite had become terribly small lately.

She worried that Peter might become malnourished if things continued like this.

Or perhaps Peter doesn't like the food he cooks anymore?

She felt a little sad at the thought that her nephew didn't like the food she cooked.

"Perhaps... I can taste it."

After a moment of silence, Peter walked over to Aunt May and took the salad from her with a smile.

Then he slowly began to chew a piece of chicory.

His brow furrowed slightly as he recalled the information he had just reviewed about New York-Presbyterian Hospital.

Stephen Strange?

The doctor's name seems familiar.

Chapter 9 This guy is Doctor Strange?!

New York-Presbyterian Hospital.

"Thank you for your hard work, Dr. Strange."

The doctor, dressed in surgical scrubs, breathed a sigh of relief and thanked his colleague, Dr. Stephen Strange, who was standing next to him.

Normally, this kind of surgery would take at least thirty hours.

But with Strange performing the surgery, it was successfully completed in just three hours.

Although he disliked Strange's arrogance, he had to admit that the other man did indeed have a "miracle hand".

"Sorry, I have to go now."

Unaware of his colleague's thoughts, Strange took off his gloves and pressed his aching shoulder.

As soon as he pushed open the operating room door, before he could even exhale, he saw a couple walking towards him with anxious expressions.

"Doctor, it's my daughter."

"The surgery was a success, and she will soon be able to talk and walk again."

Before the other party could ask, Strange spoke directly to the patient's family.

Upon hearing that their daughter was safe and sound, the couple immediately burst into tears of joy.

"That's wonderful, that's really wonderful, thank you doctor, thank you!"

The husband grasped Strange's hand and expressed his heartfelt gratitude.

Strange calmly withdrew his hand and said to the two, "She won't wake up until later because of the anesthesia. You can go back and rest first."

The wife shook her head and said excitedly, "No, I want to stay with our daughter until she wakes up."

Strange nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

As soon as I stepped out of the hospital corridor, I heard a voice behind me, "Please wait a moment, Dr. Strange."

Strange turned around and saw his female colleague Christine from the emergency room walking towards him.

He stopped and waited for her to come up. "You look great today, Christine."

Christine shrugged. "I've been looking good the whole time. I just heard you comforting the patient's family. That's quite different from the Dr. Strange I remember."

"uh-huh."

Strange smiled and said, "I sent them home to rest for a while because I was worried they might collapse and not be able to pay for the surgery."

Christine was speechless at the other person's words.

After a long pause, he said quietly, "This is the Dr. Strange I know."

He is arrogant and extremely intelligent, but he is by no means a likable person.

“After all, they need a doctor to heal their daughter, not a psychologist to comfort them, don’t you think, Christine?”

Strange, unconcerned, quickly changed the subject, "By the way, there's a medical lecture at NYU tonight, may I invite you?"

Christine smiled and greeted a passing colleague, then turned back and said, "Although I'm very interested in medical presentations, I have to work tonight, so I apologize."