After confirming there was no Black Spider in this World, Peter felt on top of the World—so much so he polished off two extra bowls of rice at dinner.
After the meal, Peter didn't go anywhere; he stayed home and kept practicing sensing 'qi.'
At the stroke of midnight, when all was silent, he slipped out of the second-floor window of the Parker house and vanished into the night in a few quick bounds.
Following the familiar route, he arrived beneath Gwen's house.
In the moonlight, Gwen hung upside-down from the rooftop railing, her golden hair cascading like a waterfall, shimmering softly in the silver light.
The moment their eyes met, Gwen's gaze naturally drifted down to Peter's Adam's apple, now prominent as he looked up.
Gulp.
She swallowed instinctively, her heart skipping an uncooperative beat.
Why does Peter always radiate that damnable charm without even trying?
She hurriedly shifted her posture, using the motion to hide her flushed cheeks, then started, a bit awkwardly:
'Peter, you seem in a great mood today—did something good happen?'
'Pretty much.' Peter wasn't about to mention Menace, so he only told her he'd scouted The Prowler that afternoon—and planned to invite the man to join the Fist of Shadow.
Hearing that, Gwen's eyes lit up.
Not because The Prowler might join the Fist of Shadow;
she was happy purely because Peter had taken her advice.
It meant her words carried weight with the boy she loved.
For a girl head-over-heels in love, that was a huge plus.
An indescribable sweetness welled up, making her grin impossible to hide.
'That's wonderful! Congrats—your hero squad's growing stronger.'
She stretched out a hand, ready to haul Peter straight onto the roof.
Peter didn't take the offer.
He felt the need to cut a more dashing figure in front of his girl.
He gave a small shake of his head, then—right in front of her—performed a physics-defying 'double-jump' with Moonwalk.
By the time he landed gracefully on the rooftop, Gwen still wore a look of disbelief:
'How… how did you just do that?'
She knew Peter was strong and had even stolen the Green Goblin's flying skateboard,
but she'd had no idea he possessed such a miraculous ability.
'Well… think of it as a variant application of magic.'
Peter couldn't explain Moonwalk; in the real World its theory was pure bug.
Without the System's boost, Gwen could train her whole life and never replicate it.
He didn't want to mislead her.
Hearing it was yet another spell bestowed by the Dragon, Gwen felt a twinge of disappointment,
but she quickly rallied—her boyfriend wielded all sorts of unattainable powers; she was proud of that.
'So… what are you teaching me today? The Eastern kung fu the Dragon taught you?' she quipped, striking a goofy White Crane stance.
'Pretty much.' Peter shrugged. 'I'm a pragmatist, so no fixed forms.'
With a light sweep of his foot he drew a circle no more than a meter and a half wide on the rooftop concrete.
Standing dead-center, left hand behind his back, he extended his right, crooked a finger at her, and grinned playfully:
'Today's training is simple.'
'Using only one hand, I'll fight you with everything I've got until you push me out of this circle.'
'Pull that off and training ends early.'
One second she was lost in curiosity and sweetness; the next she puffed her cheeks like an angry dumpling.
'What?!'
'Stay in the circle, one hand only—Mr. Punisher, you're seriously underestimating Ghost-Spider!'
Gwen huffed, fired a web-line straight at Peter,
planning the crudest, simplest method: yank him out and prove her strength.
What happened next left her stunned.
The instant her silk shot out, Peter snatched it faster than the eye could track,
whipped a half-circle, and gathered the sticky web into a rope.
His forearm muscles flared as he yanked hard.
'Eek!'
A tremendous pull jolted the line; caught off guard, Gwen lost balance and flew shrieking into Peter's solid, warm chest.
Catching her with one arm, he let his free hand land a light pat on her pert backside and teased:
'Consider that an early warning.'
'Next time I won't be so gentle.'
'You—don't underestimate me!'
Face scarlet, Gwen wriggled free of his embrace.
Realizing webs wouldn't work, she dropped the cockiness and came in with proper stance.
Used to fighting muggers at a fraction of her strength, she telegraphed punches Peter easily caught.
He gave a light squeeze and Gwen let out a decidedly ambiguous moan.
'Keep it down—the old lady's a light sleeper.'
Before she could recover, a devilish whisper tickled her ear:
'You don't want Grandma Pauline hearing anything weird, do you?'
Mortified, Gwen slapped a hand over her mouth and shot him a 'fierce' glare.
She was now one-hundred-percent certain:
the scoundrel was doing it on purpose,
loving every second of rattling her with those suggestive lines.
Where on earth did he learn such cheeky talk?
It definitely wasn't in the study materials Gloria had sent her.
Good thing Peter couldn't hear her thoughts,
or he'd have snorted in disdain.
Western styles?
Nothing but rolling eyes and 'yes-yes-yes.'
Zero technique, zero aesthetics.
If you want real knowledge, the key to unlocking the New World, you need a Japanese sensei.
Sure, the resolution's lousy and they skip the details, but in every other way they wipe the floor with the competition!