Chapter 56

Because today was the opening gala of the technology center, the female waitresses temporarily dispatched by the Hardy family from their five-star hotel were dressed in uniform attire, quietly patrolling the hall with trays of various drinks and snacks.

"Park..." came Jameson's bellow from a distance.

Peter, rarely dressed in formal wear, was eyeing the colorful drinks on the waitress's tray, about to reach for one.

But he missed, and the last drink was snatched away by his boss: "Park! Are you deaf? I've called you twice! Did I bring you here to offer you champagne? Quickly, take a photo of my wife and the ladies of the Hardy family."

Jameson gulped down the cocktail in his glass and then dragged Peter over to his wife. Peter had no choice but to leave the drinks on the tray, open the camera lens, and take a photo of Mrs. Jameson and the head of the Hardy family.

"Then, here, take a photo of me and..." Jameson suddenly got stuck, forgetting the name of the Chinese man in front of him.

Lü Xiang smiled at Kathleen and Felicia, elegantly raising his glass, and replied, "Lü Xiang."

"Right, take a photo of me and Mr. Lü Xiang!"

The entire New York business circle knew that a Chinese philanthropist, Martin Lee, from that ancient and mysterious country, had suddenly and high-profilely chosen to develop in New York. He quickly integrated into various bridge salons, horse racing clubs, and charity clubs, the social circles of the upper class.

Martin Lee was not a skilled businessman; he entrusted all his business in New York to his most outstanding assistant, Lü Xiang.

According to rumors, Lü Xiang had long been rooted in Hell's Kitchen and led the underground Chinese mafia in New York, though no one could prove this.

Of course, as the editor-in-chief of the Daily Bugle, Jameson was always a bit more informed than the average person. He didn't know who Lü Xiang was, but from his luxurious and meticulous attire, he was at least a wealthy man.

In New York, money meant status, so Jameson eagerly took a photo with Lü Xiang.

Then, Jameson hurriedly pulled his wife over to the side of the mayor of New York, reminding Peter: "Take a photo of me with the mayor and his mistress."

The black mayor of New York glared at Jameson, who realized his mistake and quickly corrected himself: "Um, I mean the mayor's secretary. Park, take the photo!"

The gala proceeded in an elegant atmosphere, filled with joyful moments, and everyone was active in their own circles.

Perhaps except for Ymir, who used his ability to put Quentin into a trance and then managed to escape.

"Really unlucky, got entangled by Quentin again," Ymir muttered, holding a glass of champagne as he passed by. After taking a photo with the mayor, Jameson continued to look around, searching for the next valuable photo opportunity.

Both of them were a bit distracted and almost bumped into each other. Ymir glanced at Jameson and instinctively moved aside, treating it as a sign of respect for the elderly.

"Thanks!" Jameson said.

"No problem," Ymir replied casually.

Peter was standing nearby and could vaguely hear their conversation. He suddenly froze; the voice was too familiar. Without needing his spider-sense to alert him, he could guess the identity of the young man in front of him.

During the battle in the afternoon, Ymir had been in the intangible form of a ghost, leaving only the sound of his whispered words for Spider-Man. Although Peter couldn't see Ymir's face, he had memorized his voice, deeply etched in his mind.

After just a few hours, and at such a close distance, Peter immediately recognized Ymir's voice—this must be the Specter.

Peter quickly found an excuse to get away from Jameson and secretly followed Ymir, his eyes fixed on him. Even without any counter-surveillance skills, Ymir was sufficiently aware of being followed.

He turned his head to see who was so bored as to not enjoy the night life in the venue and instead focus on him.

"Peter? Peter Parker!" Ymir turned around and found the person following him, and he actually knew him.

Peter wasn't surprised that Ymir knew his identity. The Specter's abilities were too strange and unpredictable. He quickly stepped forward to shake Ymir's hand, but Ymir stepped back several steps as if he had seen a ghost.

Peter felt a bit awkward, retracting his half-extended hand. Ymir still harbored a bit of hope and asked, "Do we know each other?"

"Um, I should thank you for helping me a lot this afternoon!" Peter was very excited, finally meeting the mysterious Specter in person. No matter how well you hide, you can't escape being found.

"You, what are you talking about?" Ymir silently prayed, hoping Peter hadn't recognized him.

Peter leaned in and whispered in Ymir's ear, "Already forgotten? Mr. S-p-e-c-t-e-r?"

"Damn!" Ymir was already in a state of confusion. He knew superheroes were amazing, but this was ridiculous. He had just played the hero once, and Peter had recognized him.

Moreover, Spider-Man wasn't a hero inclined towards magic or the mysterious side, yet his intuition was already so sensitive. Could he still secretly help in the future? Could he still enjoy himself?

Peter hadn't expected to meet the Specter so coincidentally that evening. If a few more days had passed, his memory might have faded, and he might not have been so sensitive.

But now, when his impression was the strongest, Peter could immediately distinguish Ymir's voice from the crowd.

Peter could tell that Ymir knew everything about him being Spider-Man. Didn't he know that, besides being able to stick to walls, he also had spider-sense, the most sensitive of animal instincts?

Taking this opportunity, Peter also carefully observed the Specter. His skin tone suggested he was of Asian descent, but his features were distinctly European. He wore a relatively cheap suit and shirt, not ugly but not particularly handsome, with a face that would blend into a crowd and be hard to find.