Chapter 12

Yimir felt that he should comfort Matt at this moment, but he didn't know how to start. He knew that Matt Murdock, as Daredevil, was much stronger than he had imagined.

Matt thought he had said enough for today and didn't want to continue reminiscing about the past.

He whispered softly in Yimir's ear, "Yimir, you must understand that power is not important; what matters is the 'heart.'"

"Always remember, don't let power control your heart; instead, learn to control power with your 'heart.' You need to learn to control the resentment in your heart. If you can do that, this power will truly be yours. Otherwise, you will only become a slave to your resentment."

Yimir was startled. He understood that Matt had shared so much of his past to set the stage for this one sentence. Matt was right; what is uncontrollable is not power, but a disaster.

Just like last night, if Yimir hadn't regained his senses and controlled the curse, he might have inadvertently harmed everyone in the apartment without even realizing it.

Harming others was one thing; Yimir felt no kinship with them, so at most, he would feel remorse and guilt. But if he had hurt his beloved sister Kathleen, Yimir wouldn't know what to do.

He suddenly remembered Old Babu's eyes, filled with hatred, unwillingness, and deep fear of death, as he died in the cursed land. Yimir never wanted to see such a look in the eyes of his loved ones.

"Let go, let go of me first. I told you, my pool hall is not for sale."

Yimir and Matt were chatting on the sofa, and seeing Yimir's lack of interest in the game, Matt lost his enthusiasm as well. They planned to rest for a while and then leave.

However, during this brief respite, the pool hall was already in chaos.

Several burly men stormed in, grabbing the owner who was wiping glasses behind the bar. The leader, with red hair and a nasty scar on his face, glared at the owner.

"What did you say, Jeff, you old man? Are you saying we are forcing you to sell your bar? Listen carefully, it's an honor for your little shop to catch the eye of Mr. Ferran."

"Let's make a deal. You claim to be the best pool player in Hell's Kitchen, so I won't bully you. We'll play a game of pool. If you win, I'll leave without a word. If you lose, I won't make it hard for you; I'll still pay to buy your破店......"

"Take your money and get out of my place. Tell Ferran that unless I, old Jeff, am dead, he won't get this place!" The owner was held in the air by the red-haired man, his feet struggling helplessly.

He struggled to pull a coin from his pocket and threw it hard at the red-haired man's nose. This was the fee Ferran offered to buy old Jeff's pool hall—1 dollar.

The coin bounced off the red-haired man's face and landed on the bar, with the image of the first U.S. President, George Washington, coldly looking at the country he had created.

"This is Hell's Kitchen, the dirtiest and most evil neighborhood in New York City, where crimes happen every moment." Growing up in such an environment, Matt was already used to the frequent violence.

Yimir watched as the red-haired man, enraged, lifted old Jeff by the collar and swung him around.

Old Jeff, in pain, clung to the red-haired man's wrist with one hand, possibly because his throat was being squeezed, or because he was too angry.

His face was flushed red, and he struggled, "You, you scumbags, first you sent people to break my hand, and now you talk about a fair game? How can I possibly play pool with you now?"

Yimir then noticed that the pool hall owner, Jeff, indeed had a broken right hand, leaving him with only one hand. How could he possibly fend off Ferran's henchmen?

"What are you talking about!" Stung by old Jeff's words, the red-haired man was momentarily furious, but he soon laughed, "Old man, what evidence do you have that we sent people to break your hand? Praise the damned law; without evidence, you can't convict me in court......"

Such words were a blatant slap in the face to Matt, a lawyer in New York State with a Ph.D. in law from Columbia University.

Yimir looked at Matt with concern; his hand gripping the cane had turned white, the knuckles protruding. This was not an ordinary bamboo cane for the blind but a lethal weapon.

Matt was the famous superhero Daredevil in Hell's Kitchen. His weapon, the Billy Club, was as essential as Captain America's shield. With the help of the Billy Club, Daredevil could move freely between the city's buildings.

And Daredevil was not a soft-hearted saint like Captain America. If he really went berserk, no one in this small pool hall would survive, including Yimir, who was already a ghost and not considered a living person.

The bar was in chaos, and Yimir, sitting in the corner with Matt, asked curiously, "Mr. Matt, in this situation, how should we handle it?"

He had just been taught by Matt to let the 'heart' control power, but he didn't expect to encounter such a farce so soon. Yes, for both Matt as Daredevil and Yimir, who had just mastered his superpowers, this was just a farce.

Thinking about this, Matt's face relaxed, and he smiled coldly, "Yimir, remember what I told you: power is not important; what matters is the 'heart.' I hope justice can be served today and not disappear in people's 'hearts.'"

This was similar to a phrase Yimir had heard in his past life: punishing evil is promoting good. Executing one person can warn many. However, Yimir still felt confused about how to grasp the balance.

"Haha, Jeff, did you understand? I am innocent, I am not guilty! For your own good, take this 1 dollar and disappear from Hell's Kitchen, or else......" The red-haired man's threat was cut short when he realized that the arm holding old Jeff was being pressed down by a hand.