Early morning, Midtown High School.
The morning fog had not yet dispersed, and rainwater dripped from the oak leaves at the school gate.
Zeon held a long-handled black umbrella, moving like a silent Shadow through the damp morning.
He wore a neatly ironed White shirt, with the top button fastened, and a dark grey knitted vest over it, making his figure appear slender and tall.
His black hair was slightly long, with tiny Water droplets still clinging to the ends, and a few strands hung before his eyes, yet they couldn't conceal the curiosity in his eyes, which he was trying to suppress.
"Hey! You 'dummy' over there! Did you finish the homework I told you to do yesterday?!"
"You better give me a definite answer, or I'll make you cry all the way home to your mom like a little girl, hahahaha..."
"Hahahaha—!!" x N
Suddenly, a familiar yet unfamiliar voice, filled with typical U.S. mockery, pierced from behind him. A burst of laughter immediately erupted around them.
It was Flash Thompson's voice!
A deeply ingrained, or rather, feared presence in the original body's memory.
The original body had been bullied by him for a long time; verbal abuse was commonplace, and direct physical attacks were also frequent. However, the original body's personality was rather weak and he didn't dare to resist.
But at this moment, Zeon didn't want to bother with him. He didn't stop, walking straight towards the teaching building.
Seeing that Zeon didn't react, Flash whistled nonchalantly and led his group to block his way.
"What, is the dummy braver today? Or has he finally learned to play dead?"
As he spoke, Flash reached out to push his shoulder.
Zeon sidestepped, the tip of his umbrella pointing at Flash's throat, and with a look of utter idiocy, said:
"A professional mage named Liu once said: 'Even an idiot is a human, raised by his parents,' so I am absolutely tolerant of idiots, but not excessively! You should cherish this."
Hearing this, Flash acted as if he hadn't heard clearly, bending down and tilting his ear, saying in a comical tone:
"What did you say? I didn't hear clearly, you—"
But before Flash could finish, a voice came from outside the crowd:
"That's enough, Flash!"
Hearing this, the crowd parted, encircling the person who had just spoken.
This was a handsome, slightly thin boy who held a camera in his hand.
Flash turned, grabbed his collar, almost lifting him off the ground, and sneered:
"Isn't this 'Insignificant Parker'? Did you take the wrong medicine today? Or do you want to take a beating for him?"
Hearing this, Peter Parker, though a bit timid, still mustered his courage and said:
"I said, that's enough—"
Before he could finish, Flash, without warning, suddenly raised his right fist and swung it towards Peter Parker's face.
"Bang—!"
Just as the fist was about to land, the black umbrella handle precisely hooked Flash's wrist, and the perfectly timed force held his fist suspended in mid-Aether.
Zeon's grip on the umbrella was like holding a conductor's baton, without the slightest tremor, as he warned:
"Although body language is also a language, I advise you to use it sparingly, because this language is an art, and I happen to know a little about art."
Hearing this, Flash had a look of a failed boot-up, squinting at Zeon. After a moment of silence, he asked:
"...What did you say?"
Zeon sighed deeply, deftly retracted the umbrella handle, and at the same time unslung his backpack, throwing it to Peter Parker, looking at Flash with a helpless expression:
"...Forget it, just go ahead and hit me."
Zeon's grip on the umbrella was very peculiar; his thumb pressed into the groove of the handle, as if he was ready to strike at any moment, or ready to bow.
Looking at Zeon, who seemed to be looking at a mentally challenged child with concern, Flash was enraged. His face flushed red, and his right fist slammed fiercely towards Zeon's face!
"Whoosh—!"
The gust of wind from the punch stirred the stray hairs on Zeon's forehead. He dodged sideways, with minimal movement, yet precisely allowing Flash's fist to graze past his nose.
At the same time, Zeon flicked his wrist, and the long-handled black umbrella, like a swimming dragon, swept diagonally upwards from below, striking the inside of Flash's wrist with a "snap."
"Ugh!"
Flash immediately cried out in pain, his entire right arm instantly numb.
Zeon gave him no chance to breathe. The tip of the umbrella touched the ground, and he used the leverage to spring up, his right leg sweeping out like a whip, heavily kicking Flash in the abdomen.
"Thump—!"
Flash staggered backward, knocking over two of his cronies, and the three of them fell to the ground together, splashing a mix of sewage and mud.
A dead silence fell over the surroundings.
Flash struggled to get up, ignoring the mud and stench on his face, and roared ferociously at the people around him:
"What are you looking at?! Get him!"
Hearing this, a dozen people immediately rushed forward.
Seeing this, Zeon's eyes sharpened, and he suddenly held the umbrella horizontally across his chest.
"Swish swish—!"
The first two to charge threw punches simultaneously. Zeon blocked with the umbrella shaft, the metal ribs clashing with their fists, emitting a dull thud.
Taking half a step back with the momentum, he suddenly spun, the umbrella handle thrusting out like a spear, hitting one person directly in the axillary nerve plexus.
"Ah ah—!"
The person's face immediately twitched, his arm went limp and dropped, and he collapsed to the ground.
Three people on the right flanked him. Zeon flicked his wrist, the umbrella tip tracing an arc, precisely poking the indentation below one person's collarbone.
"Thump—!"
While the opponent was bent over in pain, he raised his knee and struck hard, pushing that person into his companion's arms.
"Snap—!"
Flash seized the opportunity to ambush from behind. Zeon, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, suddenly ducked, and the umbrella handle thrust backward from under his armpit, hitting the opponent's knee squarely.
"Ah ah ah—!"
Flash screamed, dropping to one knee.
Zeon's movements were fluid and graceful. The black umbrella in his hand seemed to come alive; at times, it was like a long sword thrusting, at others, like a short staff sweeping. The metal umbrella tip cut cold arcs of light in the sunlight.
His White shirt remained tidy, with only a few smudges on the cuffs from blocking.
Finally, three people lunged at him simultaneously. Zeon suddenly tossed the umbrella into the Aether.
The three instinctively looked up—
"Bang bang bang—!"
Zeon lunged forward, delivering a hand chop to the side of one person's neck, simultaneously catching the falling umbrella. The umbrella tip "thumped" against the second person's Adam's apple, and his right leg swept, knocking the third person down.
Time seemed to stand still.
"Ugh ah..."
A dozen people lay scattered on the ground, groaning. Only Zeon stood ramrod straight, the tip of his black umbrella pointing unmoving at Flash, who was the last one standing.
"Apologize, then get lost."
Zeon's words were as soft as a sigh, yet they made Flash feel as if he had been granted a great pardon. He hurriedly mumbled an apology, then, along with his cronies, scrambled and stumbled away.
Seeing them leave, Zeon reached out to Peter Parker, who was standing there dumbfounded, and said with a smile:
"Hello, could you please return my backpack?"