Chapter 8

Under the influence of the怨念阴力 (negative energy) emanating from Ymir, a deathly gray silence replaced all other colors. The walls and ceiling cracked and peeled off like the skin and flesh of a long-dead corpse.

The entire world began to squirm, space and time distorted and collapsed. If Hell's Kitchen was just a joke to New Yorkers about a Manhattan neighborhood, then the room where Ymir was now truly became hell, a living hell.

Life rapidly drained from Old Babu. Despair filled his eyes, and his already drunken gait became unsteady. He stumbled and staggered toward the door, moving with great difficulty.

Each step he took accelerated the escape of his life force.

In just a moment, Old Babu's once robust body, weighing over 200 pounds, began to wither and decay. His tall figure shrank like a dried yam.

His bones became brittle, and after just a few steps, his legs could no longer support his weight and broke. His body fell to the ground, his skin wrinkling and turning black. His teeth fell out one by one.

Spider webs and dust covered Old Babu's body. Now lying on the ground was nothing but a lifeless skeleton, a skeleton that had suffered terribly before dying, terrified by its own fate.

This was just a superficial manifestation of the curse land. For a vengeful spirit, creating such a curse land was a natural ability. Although it was Ymir's first time using this power, various ghostly techniques had already surfaced in his mind.

Not to mention Old Babu, who was trapped in fear, even Ymir himself was stunned by the power of the curse land. His past life was not that of a psychopathic killer, and faced with such a cruel scene, he had already squatted down and vomited profusely. The milk and bread he had eaten in the morning were all forced out by the rebellious stomach acid.

"I think you need a tissue," Ymir, completely limp, could sense someone stepping into his curse land, but he had no energy to be on guard after vomiting so much.

After dealing with the arrogant bastard Old Babu, Ymir's resentment seemed to have been vented. He took the tissue with a bitter smile and blew his nose hard. "Thanks, who are you?"

Feeling much better, Ymir stood up from the ground and turned around. In front of him stood a man in dark red leather, wearing a horned helmet and carrying several weapons that could transform into throwing knives or canes.

This image seemed familiar to Ymir. He racked his brain and quickly identified the person who had invaded his curse land without showing any fear.

"Are you Daredevil Matt Murdock?" Ymir was stunned. In his past life, superhero movies were popular, and thanks to his girlfriend who idolized them, he had almost seen all the Marvel movies.

Matt nodded and then asked with some confusion, "How do you know my name? And I'm not called Daredevil, you can call me Nightshade."

In a multiverse with various superpowers, the existence of evil and crime was inevitable. Superpowered individuals who masked themselves and roamed between the lines of law and order, becoming the standard of justice, Matt Murdock was neither the first nor the last. He was more curious about how Ymir recognized him.

This was due to the influence of movies. In Ymir's past life, he had only seen the theatrical release of "Daredevil," so when he saw the classic red leather outfit, his mind immediately thought of "Daredevil."

However, in the Marvel world Ymir was in, Matt's nickname was not Daredevil but Nightshade. Nightshade was indeed cooler and more fitting for Matt's background.

Nightshade was not born blind. He, like Ymir, was a resident of the dark zone of New York City's "Hell's Kitchen."

Due to an accident, he knocked over a barrel of chemicals, which splashed onto his eyes.

The contact with this strange energy caused Matt to lose his sight.

However, after losing his vision, Matt's other four senses—hearing, touch, smell, and taste—became superhumanly acute. After rigorous training, he quickly mastered this radar-like superpower, allowing him to "see" every corner of the city even with his eyes closed.

Many years passed, and Matt kept his secret hidden. But after his father was murdered by a criminal, he vowed to avenge the innocent and fight against the evil forces in the city.

By day, he was a regular lawyer in New York, but at night, he put on his red suit and became "Nightshade."

With lightning-fast senses and the agility of a hawk or a leopard, Matt fought crime in the city, settling scores that the law could not, and bringing to justice those who evaded the law.

Ymir looked at the not yet completely decayed skeleton of Old Babu on the ground and then at Nightshade standing in front of him. How was this different from what he knew?

He had killed a man, a strong man, in front of Nightshade. As a superhero, Matt should have entered his curse land, beaten him up, and then pretended to spare his life, sending him to jail.

Why was he standing there like nothing had happened, with a gentle smile on his face?

Nightshade had no desire to fight. He sat down next to Ymir, seemingly talking to himself, "The resentment here is so thick, no wonder it attracted the attention of the gangs in Hell's Kitchen."

Ymir was confused. He stared at Nightshade and waved his hand in front of his face. "Can you see the resentment?" Nightshade laughed and gently pushed away Ymir's waving hand. "I can't see it, but I can feel it."

His empty eyes turned to Ymir, and he smiled. "You are the coward Ymir, I've heard of you." Ymir felt a bit embarrassed, as his reputation in this body was indeed not good, making it seem like anyone could take advantage of him.

Ymir closed his eyes and withdrew the negative energy that had filled the room. The room returned to the real world. It was still the same small, dilapidated apartment room. The hellish scenes that had appeared before seemed like an illusion, and the skeleton of Old Babu, which had turned to bones in the curse land, was no longer in the room.