027. Spider-Man Now Has a Fan Club

"Spider-Man, did you kill him?"

On the way back, Gwen’s voice sounded in his earpiece, tinged with hesitation, as if she wanted to know the answer but was afraid to accept the result.

Su Ye laughed softly. “I’m just a high schooler. How could I possibly kill anyone?”

Hearing this, Gwen let out a heavy sigh of relief. The fact that her boyfriend was a hero who punished evil with his strength—not a killer with blood on his hands—was a source of comfort to her.

As for the Green Goblin’s final pitiful screams, he had surely endured excruciating pain, but that was of no consequence. Given all the things the Green Goblin had done, killing him wouldn’t have been too much. Gwen simply didn’t want Su Ye’s hands stained with blood, not because she thought the Green Goblin didn’t deserve to die.

Su Ye didn’t return to the Broadway Theatre; Harry had long since left, hastening to where Mary Jane had run into trouble. Up to now, he was still unaware that the Green Goblin was actually his father, Norman Osborn.

And for a long time to come, he would remain in the dark.

The upper echelons of the Osborn Corporation had struck a deal with the police, donating vast sums of money and resources in exchange for keeping Norman Osborn’s identity as the Green Goblin a secret. The aim was to calm the shareholders and stabilize the company’s market value.

However, given all that Norman Osborn had done, the police weren’t about to simply let it slide. Although later he was diagnosed with mental illness, he would still be held accountable to some degree. Once his injuries stabilized, he would spend the rest of his life under police surveillance. If his Green Goblin persona showed signs of resurfacing, they might even take drastic measures.

Publicly, it was announced that Norman Osborn was retiring due to illness, and the chairmanship of the Osborn Corporation would pass to his son—eighteen-year-old Harry Osborn, who hadn’t even graduated high school yet.

This was, in the eyes of the Osborn Corporation’s think tank, the least damaging solution for the company.

In fact, to divert public attention—especially that of shareholders—from Norman Osborn’s sudden retirement, they even hired online influencers to stir up discussion.

“Another young corporate chairman—maybe Harry Osborn will outdo Tony Stark!”

That’s right—their plan was to draw a comparison with Iron Man, Tony Stark.

Tony had been a prodigy since childhood: building circuit boards at four, constructing engines at six, entering MIT at fourteen, and graduating top of his class at seventeen... By contrast, Harry, a notorious underachiever, couldn’t hold a candle to that.

But comparisons have always been about playing up one’s strengths against another’s weaknesses. Tony may be a genius, but his private life was a mess—most of his youthful energy had been spent on chasing women, his legendary exploits the stuff of rumor.

Harry, on the other hand, was different. Still in his teens, barely experienced with romance, he was the very picture of restraint—a true diamond in the rough.

Moreover, Harry had a major advantage over Tony: his father was still alive, albeit ill, and could provide guidance in many areas, something Tony never had.

In short, by spinning the story from various plausible angles, they offered all sorts of respectable reasons for the public to view Harry as being in the same league as Tony. The Osborn Corporation, like Stark Industries under Tony’s leadership, would continue to thrive in both civilian and military sectors.

The media’s power to steer public opinion is formidable—East or West, when all the media, even the major outlets, speak with one voice, the average person, lacking the means to distinguish truth from narrative, will inevitably be swayed.

For a while, hardly anyone discussed the Green Goblin anymore. He became little more than a background character in the endless online debates between Spider-Man and Iron Man fans.

To the people of New York, the Green Goblin had made a contribution of sorts—after all, he’d single-handedly made Spider-Man into the city’s beloved friendly neighborhood hero.

Now, a spontaneous Spider-Man fan club had formed online, locked in rivalry with Iron Man’s fan club on the West Coast in Los Angeles. The two sides constantly clashed over who was stronger.

“Shouldn’t we do something about this?”

In her bedroom, Gwen hugged her laptop, fingers flying over the keys. Anyone who didn’t know better might think she was a frantic web writer, the kind who couldn’t even claim the title of author without blushing at the system’s backstage designation.

“Your fans are really getting wild lately. After taking on Iron Man’s fandom, they’re now picking a fight with Captain America’s.”

“Don’t they realize Captain America’s fans are everywhere in America? Even if each one had ten livers, and each liver ten gallbladders, there’s no way they could win.”

“Isn’t this just asking for trouble?”

Gwen typed and chattered into her earpiece. It had been a week since Spider-Man’s daring capture of the Green Goblin.

Su Ye was still surprised by how quickly he’d acquired a fan club.

These days, his life remained tough. Aside from normal study and work, he spent nearly all his free time at the Shiranui Dojo.

The fight with the Green Goblin had taught him an important lesson.

There are no useless techniques—only weak practitioners.

In King of Fighters, or Fatal Fury, Andy may have been a mediocre fighter, but that only proved his own shortcomings, not those of the Bone Style or Shiranui Ninjutsu.

At least for himself, combining Spider-Man’s abilities with the Bone Style made for a formidable force.

If it were Captain America, then Terry’s bold, sweeping style would be more suitable. Andy’s softer, more agile Bone Style was a perfect fit for someone as nimble as Spider-Man.

It’s not about the strength of the technique, but the match between method and person.

With this realization, Su Ye trained even harder at the Shiranui Dojo.

Previously, he’d mastered only the Bone Style, not yet Shiranui Ninjutsu, nor had he learned the explosive energy control or flame techniques. It was natural for him to be anxious.

Fortunately, Hanzo Shiranui held nothing back, teaching him everything.

This time, it wasn’t the system forcing him. Rather, Hanzo Shiranui himself had uncovered a secret during Spider-Man’s battle with the Green Goblin that night.

The move Spider-Man used—circling the lightning rod and launching a flying ‘Vacuum Bomb’ kick—had been captured on camera, and Hanzo happened to catch it on TV.

Given Su Ye’s previously demonstrated superhuman abilities, and comparing his physique with Spider-Man’s, Hanzo quickly reached a conclusion.

The new apprentice he’d accepted for his granddaughter was none other than New York’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

Such a hero was worthy not only of his granddaughter but also of inheriting the leadership of the Shiranui Dojo.