Emil felt he should comfort Matt at this moment, but he did not know where to begin. He knew that Matt Murdock, as Daredevil, was much stronger than he had imagined.
Matt felt he had said enough for today, and he did not want to continue reminiscing about the past.
He just whispered in Emil's ear: "Emil, you must know, power is not important; what is important is the 'heart'."
"Always remember, do not let power control your mind, but learn to use your 'heart' to control power. You must learn to control the resentment in your heart. If you can do that, this power will truly be yours; otherwise, you will only become a slave to the resentment in your heart."
Emil was startled. He understood that Matt had told him so much about his past experiences, all as a prelude to this one sentence. Matt was right; uncontrolled power was not power at all—it was just a disaster.
Just like last night, if Emil had not sobered up in time and controlled the development of the place of cursed grievance, he might have accidentally harmed everyone in the apartment without even realizing it.
Accidentally harming others would be one thing; Emil felt he had no close ties to them, at most he would feel remorse and guilt. But if he were to hurt his sister Kathleen, who had always cared for him, Emil truly would not know what to do.
He inexplicably recalled Old Babu's eyes staring at him during his tragic death in the place of cursed grievance, eyes filled with hatred, unwillingness, and a deep fear of death.
If possible, Emil never wanted to see such an expression on his loved ones.
"Let go, release me first. I told you, my pool hall is impossible to sell."
Emil and Matt were sitting on a nearby sofa, chatting. Seeing that Emil was completely distracted from the game of pool, Matt himself lost interest in playing. They planned to rest for a while and then leave.
However, in just this brief moment of rest, the pool hall had already descended into chaos.
Several fierce-looking strong men rushed in from outside, grabbing the owner who was wiping glasses behind the bar. The leader was a guy with red hair and a hideous scar on his face.
He listened to the owner's words, and a fierce glint flashed in his eyes: "What did you say, Jeffer, you old geezer? So you're saying we're trying to force you to sell your bar? Listen carefully, Feren My Lord looking favorably upon your small shop means he thinks highly of you."
"How about this, aren't you known as Hell's Kitchen's number one pool player? Well, I won't bully you. Let's play a game of pool. If you win, I'll leave without another word. If you lose, hehe, I won't make things difficult for you; I'll still pay to buy your broken shop…"
"Take your money and get out of my shop. Go back and tell Feren that unless I, Old Jeffer, am dead, he can forget about getting this shop!" The owner was held aloft by the red-haired man, his feet struggling weakly.
He laboriously pulled a coin from his pocket and fiercely flung it at the red-haired man's nose. This was the price Feren was offering to buy Old Jeffer's pool hall—1 U.S. dollar.
The coin bounced off the red-haired man's face and landed on the bar, the engraved image of George Washington, the first President of the United States, looking coldly at the country he had created.
"This is Hell's Kitchen, the dirtiest and most evil district in New York, United States, where crime occurs every moment." Having grown up in such an environment, Matt was accustomed to this violence that played out every so often.
Emil watched as the red-haired man, enraged, grabbed Old Jeffer by the collar and swung him back and forth in the air.
Old Jeffer painfully stretched out one hand, desperately clinging to the red-haired man's wrist, possibly due to difficulty breathing from being choked, or perhaps from sheer fury.
His face had turned crimson, and he resisted excitedly: "You, you scum, first you sent people to break my hand, and then you talk about a fair game? How can I possibly play pool with you now?"
Only then did Emil notice that the pool hall owner Jeffer's right hand was indeed broken at the wrist, and with only one hand, how could he possibly move the iron hand of Feren's subordinate?
"What are you talking about!" Old Jeffer had hit a sore spot, and the red-haired man immediately became somewhat enraged out of shame, but he quickly laughed again: "Old geezer, what evidence do you have that we sent people to break your hand? Praise the damned law, you have no evidence, so even if we went to court, I couldn't be found guilty…"
Such words were practically a blatant slap in the face to Matt, who was a New York State lawyer with a Dr. of Law degree from Columbia University.
Emil looked at Matt beside him with some concern. The hand gripping his cane had turned deathly pale, and all ten knuckles protruded. This was not an ordinary bamboo cane used by the blind for guidance, but a sharp weapon that could be used to kill.
Matt was Daredevil, the famous Superheroes in Hell's Kitchen. His weapon, known in English as the Billy Club, was an essential exclusive weapon, just like Captain America's shield. It was with the help of the Billy Club that Daredevil could better move freely through the city buildings.
Moreover, Daredevil was not a soft-hearted saint like Captain America; if he truly went berserk, no one in this small pool hall would survive.
Including Emil, because he was already a Wraith Body and could no longer be considered a living person.
The bar area was already in an uproar, and Emil, sitting in the corner with Matt, curiously asked: "Mr. Matt, in this situation, how should we handle it?"
He had just been taught by Matt that power must obey the control of the "mind," and unexpectedly, he encountered such a farce in an instant. Yes, whether for Matt as Daredevil or Emil, who had just gained his Superheroes abilities, this scene was merely a farce.
Thinking of this, Matt's face suddenly relaxed, and a cold smile played on his lips as he said: "Emil, do you remember what I told you? Power is not important; what is important is the 'heart'. I hope justice can be served today, and not disappear from people's 'hearts'."
This was similar to something Emil had heard in his previous life: punishing evil is promoting good. Killing one to warn a hundred, executing one person can serve as a warning to many more. However, Emil still felt very confused about how to properly gauge the extent of this.
"Haha, Jeffer, do you understand? I am innocent, I am not guilty! For your own sake, you'd better take this 1 U.S. dollar and disappear from Hell's Kitchen, otherwise…" The red-haired man's threat was only half-spoken when he suddenly froze. Because he found that the arm he was holding Old Jeffer by was pressed down by a hand.