Chapter 237: The Power of the Sheep Talisman
"Hmm... it seems fine." Silas was still a bit hesitant to absorb it blindly. What if there was something wrong with this Sheep Talisman?
Being his usual cautious self, Silas used magic to inspect the talisman several times before finally confirming it was safe. Interestingly, the system had unlocked the Sheep Talisman, but it hadn't provided the riddle. Instead, it skipped the Sheep Talisman's clue entirely, allowing him to move on to the next one.
"So after all that, I still have to guess?" Silas wondered if he would get a second Sheep Talisman if he managed to solve the actual riddle later.
Regardless, Silas decided not to overthink it and focused on absorbing the power.
Crack! Silas crushed the Sheep Talisman. A surge of spiritual energy drifted from the shattered stone and flooded into his mind.
"A little sheep that loves to sleep, likes to wander into the dreams of others." As the power settled into his body, Silas felt a wave of mental clarity wash over him. A profound sense of security settled into his soul—a feeling that his spirit finally had a sanctuary.
"The Sheep Talisman can protect the soul?!" Silas laughed with pure joy as he processed the new information.
The Sheep Talisman didn't just allow for astral projection and dream-walking; it protected the user's soul from outside interference. For example, the Ancient One's palm strike, which could knock a soul out of its body, would no longer work on Silas because the talisman anchored his soul—unless he chose to leave his body voluntarily.
"Can this be considered spiritual immortality?" Silas closed his eyes and began to experiment with astral projection.
Flop! Silas's physical body collapsed onto the bed, unmoving. Simultaneously, a semi-transparent version of Silas floated up toward the ceiling.
"Amazing." Silas looked back at his own body and then examined his translucent hands. He began to float around the room, eventually reaching a wall. He reached out, and his hand passed through the solid surface without any resistance whatsoever.
"Cool." He drifted through the wall, but quickly retreated back to his room.
"Ahem." Silas felt a bit awkward. The adjacent room was where Uncle Ben and Aunt May were resting.
After spending some time wandering the hotel and seeing all sorts of people, Silas returned to his physical shell.
"I feel myself getting stronger again." Silas opened his eyes. With every talisman collected, the power of the others received a slight boost. Only when all twelve were gathered would they reach their absolute peak.
"I am destiny!" Silas clenched his fist as if the world were held in his palm.
Somewhere in the universe, a certain purple-skinned individual with a chin like a nutcracker let out a yawn.
San Francisco
Peter was wandering through the city. Whenever he encountered criminals, he stepped in to deal with them.
"Is the security in San Francisco really this bad?" Peter perched atop a streetlamp. Below him, a group of men had pulled out a burlap sack and suddenly bagged a homeless man sleeping on the sidewalk, attempting to drag him into a van.
Thwip!
Peter shot a web onto the sack and pulled hard. The homeless man tumbled out of the bag and scrambled away in terror.
"What the—! Who are you?!" The kidnapper in black looked up, pointing a finger at the red-clad figure on the lamp and cursing.
"Me? I'm your friendly... well, New York is pretty far from San Francisco. Let's call me your friendly distant cousin, Spider-Man." Peter corrected himself mid-sentence; "distant cousin" didn't sound quite right either.
"Spider-Man?! Gasp—" The kidnapper found the name familiar but couldn't place it immediately.
"The Spider-Man from New York," a henchman whispered, reminding his boss.
"Spider-Man!" The kidnapper had heard of him, but wasn't Spider-Man always in New York? Why was he in San Francisco?
"Sorry to interrupt your business, but I have a quick question: which way to the police station?" Peter asked, sounding like a casual tourist asking for directions.
"What do we do?" a henchman asked nervously. Spider-Man's reputation preceded him, and they weren't eager to fight a superhero.
The lead kidnapper pulled out a gun. "Don't be afraid! Spider-Man is in New York. We're thousands of miles away. There's no way it's actually him!"
He figured this was just a cosplaying fan, not the real deal.
"Wait! What did you say? I have fans in San Francisco too? That is so cool!" Peter was genuinely pleased by his own level of fame.
Bang! The kidnapper didn't waste words and fired. As the projectile whistled past Peter's face, he reached out and caught it.
Peter realized it wasn't a bullet, but a syringe filled with liquid—likely a tranquilizer.
"You guys were trying to drug me?" Peter asked, twirling the syringe in his fingers.
"Okay, now it's confirmed. He's the real Spider-Man," the kidnapper said, lowering his gun.
His henchmen looked at him with exasperated expressions. You already shot at him; you think he's just going to let us go now?
"If you want to knock out Spider-Man, you're going to need a bigger dose than this!" Peter flicked his wrist and threw the syringe back.
The group tried to run, but—Thwack!—the needle landed squarely in the leader's rear end.
"Urgh!" The kidnapper's face turned bright red, and he collapsed to the ground, out cold.
"Getting a shot in the butt has got to hurt," Peter said as he hopped down to the pavement. The van's engine roared as the others tried to speed away.
Peter casually shot a web onto the rear wheel. "How about staying for some prison food instead?"
CRASH! Peter used his raw strength to flip the van onto its side. He then leaped onto the vehicle, pulled the remaining henchmen out one by one, and webbed them up into neat cocoons.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Peter dusted off his hands. "Now that it's quiet, can someone tell me where the police station is?"
"Hey! Are you really Spider-Man?" Before the criminals could answer, a homeless man slowly emerged from the shadows.
"I am indeed the one and only. If you see anyone else in a similar suit, that's definitely my brother," Peter joked, poking fun at Silas.
"Thank God. A superhero has finally come to this chaotic land," the man said. He was the one Peter had just saved.
After running to safety, he couldn't stop worrying about his savior. After a brief internal struggle, he had decided to come back and check. He had hidden in the darkness and heard the red figure introduce himself as Spider-Man.
"What's wrong? Isn't it nice here?" Peter was confused. San Francisco seemed much better than New York to him. Tonight he had only dealt with petty crimes, nothing like the terrorist attacks and missiles flying around Manhattan.
"Nice? Nice my foot. Spider-Man, you don't know the half of it. The darkness in San Francisco just isn't out in the open like it is in New York," the man said with a bitter laugh.
Peter leaned in. "What exactly is happening here?"
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