I, Spider-Man, Let the People of the Motherland Re-Create Their Lives

[Black-robed pickets + first-generation Spider-Man + invincible flow + relaxed and humorous + rectifying the people of the motherland] Peter Parker fell from a runaway train. The moment he opened his eyes, he was lying on the streets of New York, surrounded by a group of hypocritical celebrities called the "Super Seven". There are no Avengers, no Iron Man, no S. H. I. E. L. D. There is only Vought, a pharmaceutical empire that sells superheroes as commodities. There are only people from the motherland, a "god" who is kept in the spotlight, a super giant baby who longs to be understood but no one has ever dared to approach him. There are only a group of so-called heroes who have been alienated by superpowers - some kill innocent people indiscriminately but pretend to be the embodiment of justice, some have over 100 million fans of live streaming, and some do not hesitate to trample civilians into pulp for the sake of traffic. As Peter Parker takes off Spider-Man's mask, he thinks: Maybe the best disguise is no disguise. He wants to be the most authentic Spider-Man in this world where true and false are reversed. Use a word to block the mouths of the motherland, use a punch to subvert the arrogance of the Seven, and use a smile to influence the heart corroded by loneliness. He wants Watt Company to know... That those who truly deserve the word "hero" are never monsters poured out of Compound V.