Emil, still dumbfounded, watched Daredevil, dressed in a dark red leather suit, sit down beside him with a familiar ease.
He looked at Daredevil with a mix of awe and trepidation, asking, "Dare... Daredevil? How should I address you?"
Daredevil reached out and fumbled around Emil's chest, then chuckled, "You're a Columbia University student?"
Columbia University, officially known as Columbia University in the City of New York, is a private research university located in New York City, United States, and a member of the Ivy League.
Emil, startled from his daze by Daredevil's voice, blurted out naturally, "Yes, sir, I am a student at Columbia University's Union Seminary, currently studying Classical Literature, Linguistics, History, and Theology."
Daredevil nodded, a hint of admiration in his sightless gaze.
"Very good, well-read!"
Emil detected something in Daredevil's tone, like a memory or a past, and he asked, somewhat puzzled, "How did you know I study at Columbia University?"
Daredevil released the clothing he had been fumbling with and pointed to the university emblem embroidered on the chest of the garment.
"Columbia University, founded in 1754, was then known as 'King's College.' This is its emblem; in the center of the shield-shaped emblem are three crowns, each with a cross.
This is because at that time, the Church of England was Christianity, and the King was also the head of the national religion."
So that was it. Emil looked down at himself.
Only then did he realize that the clothes he was wearing, though appearing to be a very ordinary light blue tracksuit, prominently displayed the letters "COLUMBIA," and beneath that English line was the Columbia University emblem that Daredevil had just touched.
Columbia University is indeed one of the most prestigious institutions of higher learning in the World, and one of the Ivy League universities in the U.S., but Emil didn't think that a blind man like Daredevil could recognize its emblem just by touch.
There are simply too many famous schools in this World, and quite a few in New York City.
Daredevil had no reason to have the emblems of all these famous schools memorized by heart, did he?
Perhaps sensing Emil's confusion, Daredevil stood up.
He removed his mask, revealing an ordinary face, and extended his hand with a smile.
"Then, let's formally introduce ourselves.
I am Matt Murdock, Dr. of Law from Columbia University.
I am currently a lawyer in New York City, and also your alumnus and senior."
Emil was dumbfounded.
He knew he had come to a World with Superheroes, but he had never imagined that Superheroes would be so close to him.
He extended his hand somewhat dazedly and shook Daredevil's, introducing himself, "Emil Freddy Longinus, it's a pleasure to meet you..."
Daredevil said somewhat unhappily, "Don't say 'you,' you can call me Matt."
"Oh, oh, okay, Mr. Matt..."
Don't let Emil's decisive handling of Old Babu earlier fool you; that was because he was driven by the deep-seated resentment hidden within his heart.
Moreover, from his subconscious perspective, he still mentally separated himself from the people of this World.
To put it plainly, he hadn't yet realized that this World was, in fact, real.
The people and things Emil encountered were not simply transient characters from movies or comics, but each had their own existing background.
After witnessing Old Babu's cruel death, Emil finally put himself in the right position.
Just now, he had used a very brutal method to kill a living person.
Emil's mind was in turmoil; the only person he could turn to for guidance now was his alumnus standing before him, Matt, a senior who had graduated from Columbia University.
He hesitated, then began, "Mr. Matt, I..."
The words caught in Emil's throat, and he swallowed them back.
He couldn't be sure how Matt would react to his actions.
However, Matt was clearly not startled by Old Babu's death; he was blind after all.
What's more, in Daredevil's dictionary, there had never been a meaning for being soft-hearted.
The number of bad guys who had died at Matt's hands was far greater than Emil's.
Compared to the deceased Old Babu, Matt was more concerned with Emil's current state of mind.
Although he arrived at the apartment late, Matt could still feel the Yin Power constantly emanating from the young man.
This was a negative energy filled with malicious resentment, and although it had become very faint under Emil's restraint, it still couldn't escape Matt's superhuman senses.
Matt smiled genially and asked Emil, "Was this person a bad guy, and are you a bad guy?"
Old Babu was certainly a villain, but Emil, who had just killed someone, had no right to claim he was a good person.
Matt changed back into his normal attire, put on a suit and sunglasses.
If an unsuspecting person were to pass him on the street, they would find it hard to imagine that he was the Superhero, Daredevil, active in this crime-ridden, dark Hell's Kitchen.
He extended his hand, leading Emil out of the hallway and out of the apartment, and said, "You might think you did something very evil, right?"
Emil didn't understand the meaning of Matt's words, and he began to explain, "I don't know what kind of person Old Babu was, but he insulted my sister Kathleen, and I lost control for a moment, which is why I accidentally killed him."
Was it really an accident? Perhaps not, but Matt had no intention of delving deeper.
He nodded and said, "How about this, I'll tell you a story.
I wonder if you have the patience to listen?"
Emil, of course, wouldn't refuse.
As Matt walked forward, he frowned in recollection, "Emil, like you, I grew up in this Hell's Kitchen.
I am most familiar with every blade of grass and tree here.
Politicians and developers now call it Clinton or Manhattan, but every area actually has its own soul, and this soul will not change simply because the name of the area is changed."
Perhaps because they both attended Columbia University, students of this school have always been known for their strong love of knowledge.
Typical Columbia students are inherently supposed to be intellectual, gentle, wise, and passionate.
Such people, in other neighborhoods of New York City, might be respected for their knowledge, or at the very least, treated with respect.
But not here.
This is Hell's Kitchen on the west side of Manhattan Island.
To survive here, knowledge won't help you much.
It was the same for Matt when he was a child; he was frail and often bullied.
His childhood memories were filled with the swaggering of strong boys.