I am a dynasty unto myself.

Exchanging Spider-Man’s identity for a fortune of two billion is, in truth, a pretty good deal. Not to mention two billion—even two hundred million, or twenty million, would already be quite impressive.

A penny can trip up even a hero. The original Spider-Man fought underground matches and lost an uncle, only to earn a mere hundred dollars; he sold exclusive close-up photos to a ruthless newspaper editor, and those few shots fetched just three hundred dollars. At this rate, he’d never hope to make twenty million in his lifetime.

But Su Ye could become a billionaire in mere moments—he just needed to join a powerful family as Spider-Man.

Though it was joining, not marrying into, Su Ye still felt a bit uneasy about it. Did he really have to rely on the Osborn Group? Did he really have to become the mouthpiece of those capitalists, their aide in manipulating the stock market and swaying the masses? How was that any different from those media darlings propped up by capital, those manufactured stars?

Back when the scandal broke out about Singer, Su Ye had joined the crowd online to condemn him. Now, was he to become the Marvel world’s own Singer?

Su Ye understood that backing a group with immense wealth and power would greatly benefit his actions, but why must he join others? Why couldn’t he himself become a tycoon?

“This question—I’ll think it over when I get home,” he said.

Harry was acting out of kindness, so Su Ye couldn’t refuse outright. He used a phrase every native of the Dragon Country would recognize as an answer.

“Consider it” meant he wouldn’t consider it; “another day” meant they wouldn’t meet; “next time” meant don’t ask again; “in the future” meant a refusal.

Of course, Harry, who was straightforward and had lived in the Dragon Country long enough to fancy himself an expert, didn’t quite grasp these nuances.

After interrogating Bullseye, the two left the scene. As for Bullseye, he was a minor villain, unknown and insignificant. Whether he lived or died wouldn’t cause much of a stir.

But Harry remembered how he’d been pushed to the brink by Bullseye, so as he left, he gave him a little pumpkin, sending him on his way.

That night proved sleepless for the New York police. The Russian mafia had been uprooted in the suburbs—a commendable feat, yet so many deaths made the aftermath a considerable headache.

More importantly, dozens of kidnapped women of various backgrounds were found at the mafia’s base. The evidence of the mafia’s plans left behind was even more shocking.

Had these women not been rescued, they would have been smuggled out of the country, repackaged at sea, and shipped off to Europe and Africa. There, they would have faced lives darker than night, less than human.

When the media exposed the story, society erupted into a storm. Not only local New York outlets, but opposition parties in the donkey-elephant rivalry launched fierce attacks.

Additionally, activists for various causes joined in, pressing the authorities with pointed questions, challenging the government’s competence and integrity.

Some even cursed outright: “This country can reach the moon, reach Mars, even break out of the solar system, yet it can’t protect a few women—even in the most prosperous metropolis, the beautiful Manhattan!”

The fall of a single gang turned New York’s security issues into a global hot topic.

Official channels had no choice but to blame the mafia, proclaiming it was the Russian mob at fault. So, the blame shifted to the Russians.

The Russians weren’t having it. They’d been spectating idly and hadn’t even planned to step in, yet now their name was dragged through the mud. That’s intolerable.

The Russians never cared for peaceful business dealings—any provocation was met with fierce retaliation.

Suddenly, both nations, from officials to media, were embroiled in heated debates.

Su Ye, meanwhile, paid no heed. The matter was credited to the Green Armored Hero, unrelated to Spider-Man. He swung home and went to spar with Gwen.

Gwen, for her part, voiced deep resentment toward Harry, insisting she was the one who knew Su Ye best. Comforting her was necessary to calm her down, so Su Ye knew he wouldn’t get much sleep that night.

At midnight, Su Ye was teaching Gwen the art of Bajiquan.

The ten fundamental principles of Bajiquan: expansive posture, coordinated hands and feet, steady foundation, short and swift force, sudden changes, rubbing to replace slowness, power driven by breath, balance of hardness and softness, interplay of yin and yang, unity of spirit and form.

Su Ye had long since mastered Bajiquan, applying these principles with ease. Gwen thought she’d seen all his skills, but in truth, this was only eighty percent of Su Ye’s prowess.

And as Su Ye’s mastery increased, Gwen would only fall further behind; her cross-species genetics project might need to be advanced ahead of schedule.

Just as the two were practicing, Su Ye’s system produced a reward.

“Ding! Event ‘Mafia’s Demise’ completed. You have obtained a ‘Girlfriend Card (Green · Star)’.”

(Note: Star cards have a higher probability of yielding high-quality cards.)

Su Ye had assumed only major events related to Spider-Man would drop high-quality star cards, so tonight’s rescue of Harry—a plotline absent from the original story—hadn't crossed his mind.

When midnight struck, he expected only a gray card, but to his surprise, it was a green star card. It was understandable that his movements faltered in his astonishment.

Based on his previous experience with blue star cards, green cards had a high probability of yielding excellent-level girlfriends, so without hesitation, Su Ye chose to open it.

“Ding! You have opened ‘Girlfriend Card (Green · Star)’ and obtained an Excellent-level Girlfriend Card: ‘Beautiful Nightcrawler.’ Use to acquire a Nightcrawler girlfriend.”

“Nightcrawler? That name...”

Su Ye suddenly recalled the hero from X-Men, the blue-skinned teleporter, with long pointed teeth and a tail tipped with an arrow—most importantly, he was male.

Who said a man couldn’t be a girlfriend? Cross-dressing, perhaps...

“Hiss!” This was a bit much to accept.