Chapter 138: Second Shot Half Price (Part Two)

To be a hero for a single second, or to live a coward for the rest of one's life?

When faced with this kind of choice, Steve always chose the former without hesitation.

In the dark alleyway.

"Thud!" It was a straightforward, unadorned right hook from the man.

It was hardly powerful, operating at best at the level of an ordinary person.

Yet, it was more than enough to bully a weakling like Steve.

The searing pain across his cheek sent the world spinning for Steve. He half-spun in the air and crashed miserably into a pile of garbage in the back alley.

His head felt dizzy and heavy. While many might have chosen to shamelessly lie on the ground and play dead, Steve Rogers was definitely not one of them.

He did not enjoy getting beaten.

Nobody enjoyed getting beaten.

He was simply stubborn!

The unyielding conviction in his heart sustained his frail body, allowing him to stagger back to his feet.

Following that came another predictable, heavy blow.

A violent strike to the exact same spot on his left cheek made him feel as though his brain was about to rattle right out of his skull.

A few seconds later, Steve stood up once again.

That was right; he was the kind of person who, as long as he clung to the belief in his heart and remained conscious, would always stand back up.

In the eyes of many, this was the height of foolishness. Even Mei Mumuxing, observing from the shadows, let out a deep sigh. Getting beaten like this was something Mei Mumuxing would never do. However, this did not prevent him from wearing a look of deep admiration for Steve.

A sacred conviction is precisely because it remains out of reach for ordinary people that it becomes an object of yearning—a longing to become a hero, a yearning to possess the most steadfast and unyielding resolve.

A man like Steve no longer seemed like a mere mortal; he felt more like the embodiment of the beautiful ideals harbored in the hearts of ordinary people everywhere.

Mortals could not attain it, and therefore deemed it great.

Steve stood up yet again. This time, he picked up a round trash can lid and held it in front of him as a shield.

Unfortunately, his opponent ruthlessly overpowered him with superior grip and arm strength, ripping the trash can lid shield right out of his hands and tossing it aside.

Have another punch!

"Thud!"

After collapsing this time, Steve finally mustered a counterattack.

It was a soft punch, utterly devoid of power and speed.

A punch like that ought not to have been enough to hurt even a dog.

It should have been that way, but a miracle occurred!

Physical weakness did not imply spiritual frailty. Even if only unconsciously, the conviction coalescing in Steve's mind underwent a qualitative transformation—it was... golden holy light!

The golden radiance that suddenly surged from his fist startled the thug. Before he could even react, that punch erupted with unimaginable strength and speed.

"Bang—!"

It was the sound of a fist striking flesh once again.

The roles of aggressor and victim from mere moments ago were instantly reversed.

The thug's entire body was lifted high into the air as he flew backward. In his sunken left cheek, his eyes still lingered with disbelief and terror. He simply could not comprehend why the weakling from a moment before had suddenly transformed into a primal beast, dealing him a fatal, devastating blow.

He would never find out the answer, however, as he had already lost consciousness from the heavy impact.

Not only was Steve stunned, but even the young man in the brown-tan army uniform standing at the mouth of the alley was momentarily frozen.

"Whoa! Now that's a miracle!" The young man whistled. "Steve, I hurried right over the moment I heard you were dragged into the alley. Who would've thought you'd solve the problem all by yourself? Did the sun rise from the west today?"

"Bucky, I..." Steve himself was still in a daze. The handsome, tall young man before him was naturally his lifelong best friend, Bucky Barnes. Practically every time he got bullied, Bucky would show up to shield him and settle the score.

Without Bucky watching his back, he probably would have been beaten to death by the neighborhood bullies long ago.

More than Bucky's sudden appearance, Steve was shocked by the punch he had just thrown. Had it not been for the mysterious Mr. Mei, he probably would have been completely in the dark right now.

With Mei Mumuxing's groundwork, Steve knew with absolute certainty that this was the power of the so-called 'Holy Light'.

Even though he knew it wasn't quite right to feel this way, he couldn't help but relish the memory of what had just transpired.

Before throwing that final punch, he had been furious. He despised the thug; he hated the fact that, despite his burning desire to serve his country, he was turned away because of his frail physique, while detesting even more how this physically sound fellow cowered like a coward in the safety of America instead of defending his homeland against tyranny.

It was the sense of justice burning in his heart that had driven him to throw that punch.

Originally, he had harbored no hope whatsoever.

Having gotten into countless street fights with hoodlums since childhood, he knew very well that his punch should have been effortlessly blocked without a shadow of a doubt.

Yet not only had he landed the blow, but he had also sent a two-hundred-pound brute flying through the air.

That was not something his physical body could ever accomplish!

The only explanation for such a miracle was—the Holy Light!

Like a parched traveler dying of thirst in the desert, having experienced the immense power of the Holy Light, Steve immediately grasped at it like a drowning man clutching a straw, becoming somewhat obsessed with the desire to summon the Holy Light once again.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not replicate the Holy Light, leaving Steve feeling somewhat discouraged once more.

"Hey! Are you alright?" Bucky came over, patting Steve on the shoulder before casting his gaze toward the fallen thug. "By the way, buddy, I always used to think you enjoyed getting beaten up. How come you suddenly got so strong today?"

"I... I was just..."

Bucky noticed that Steve was somewhat distracted. "Are you okay?"

"I... I'm fine!" Steve didn't know how to explain things to Bucky, and another matter quickly diverted his attention. He noticed that his good buddy was wearing an army uniform. "You... you got your draft notice?"

Noticing Steve's gaze, Bucky spotted a scattered piece of paper on the ground—it was Steve's rejected enlistment report. "Hey. Did you say you were from Paramus this time? Even though identification papers are worth crap these days, constantly forging your identity to keep trying to enlist is a dangerous game. It's illegal."

Steve curled his lip, unimpressed.

Bucky spread his arms and shrugged helplessly, "James Barnes, 107th Infantry Regiment, shipping out to England tomorrow morning."

Bucky was just a nickname; his formal name was James Barnes. And the 107th Regiment was precisely the unit Steve's father had once served in.

Steve froze entirely. His childhood friend had completely transformed into the very person he had always longed to become. Such emotions were truly beyond description. Involuntarily, his yearning for the Holy Light grew even deeper.

Bucky affectionately threw an arm around Steve's shoulder. "Alright, pal, don't think too much about it. Tonight, we're going to..."

Up in the building overlooking the back alley, Mr. Mei was gazing down at this pair of World War II best friends, and he smiled as well. "The first hit is free, the second hit is half-price, but if you want more after that, you'll have to pay full fare."