Anime Crossover: This Holy Lord Only Wants Friendly Communication

Jackie Chan winced in pain, instinctively covering his forehead with both hands, his face full of grievance.

At this moment, the armor on his body seemed to sense the fluctuation of its master's emotions, and twitched slightly, just like a giant beast that had been awakened, briefly revealing its power.

As if sensing that there was no major problem, it immediately fell silent, leaving only the clear light still flowing quietly, as if silently accumulating power in preparation for the great battle to come.

"And one more thing!"

The old man yelled, his voice booming like thunder, echoing throughout the house, "What are you dawdling for! Hurry up and stop the demon's rampage! Don't let the evil demon kill everyone!"

……

On Jiang Shinian's side, the giant dragon's body resembled a majestic god. Following the winding path cleared by the floating divine power of the chicken talisman, which resembled a dancing serpent and emitted a holy glow, each step seemed to be on the beat of fate as its body slowly moved closer to Blake.

On Blake's face, tension and vigilance were like thick ink, spreading wildly. Cold sweat poured down his forehead, sliding down his cheeks and splashing onto the ground at his feet, forming "flowers of despair."

He was like a trapped beast stuck in a swamp, his limbs bound by invisible shackles, watching helplessly as Jiang Shinian's towering figure, like dark clouds pressing down on a city, relentlessly approached step by step, the shadows like a cloak of death gradually falling and enveloping him layer by layer.

That deep-seated sense of helplessness, like a cold tide, surged and engulfed him completely, causing ripples of powerlessness and despair to rise from the depths of his soul.

His body began to tremble slightly, and his spirit was low, as if his soul and spirit had left his body, leaving only an empty shell, teetering on the brink of collapse in the storm of fate, living in constant fear.

San Francisco.

The bustling streets, rife with hidden turmoil, are shrouded in darkness, like a giant black cloth being torn apart by the wind, so thick it seems impossible to dissolve.

Jiang Shinian, this mysterious being with a body as majestic as a mountain, is surrounded by a mysterious and dangerous aura, just like a demon god who has broken free from the seal of ancient taboo legends.

At this moment, he unleashed a floating divine power, like a nimble ribbon, following the chicken talisman.

A unique path has been "carved out" amidst the chaos and noise.

That force, like an invisible yet powerful pulling thread in the night sky, cleared away numerous obstacles for him. With each step Jiang Shinian took, the ground seemed to tremble slightly, emitting a dull echo, pressing closer and closer to Blake.

Blake stood there, his posture upright, but every taut line on his face betrayed the tension and vigilance surging within him.

His eyes were wide open, staring intently at Jiang Shinian's massive and ferocious figure. Reflected in his pupils was the "source of fear" that was getting closer and closer, seemingly about to blot out the sky.

His hands and feet seemed to be bound by invisible ropes, unable to move, and he could only let Jiang Shinian's oppressive shadow envelop him inch by inch.

The shadow, like a cold tide, washed over his heart. A sense of helplessness, like a fine yet resilient spider web, trapped him in the center, unable to break free. His energy and spirit seemed to have been drained, leaving him listless and dispirited. His eyes were filled with bewilderment, as if his soul had already left his body.

Meanwhile, Kurret, tall and thin like a bamboo pole swaying in a gale, had a face as pale as paper.

Jiang Shinian's blood-red dragon eyes, like two deep pools of blood, locked onto him the moment he looked up.

The light flickered, exuding an eerie chill. Kurret felt as if the air around him had frozen into ice, and a heavy pressure, like lead, pressed down on his shoulders.

His body trembled violently and uncontrollably, and his teeth chattered.

When Jiang Shinian's enormous dragon body completely blocked the faint light on the horizon, the surroundings seemed to instantly plunge into an abyss, with darkness engulfing everything.

Kuret, struggling to keep his body afloat, managed to squeeze out a string of broken words: "Holy... Holy Lord, let's calm down and talk this out!"

Chapter 99 Confrontation with Jackie Chan

"Everything can be discussed. I guarantee we can reach a deal that will satisfy you. There's no need to make things so tense, don't you think?"

But as his voice still lingered in the air, like a fragile soap bubble, the next second, a powerful and tyrannical force, like an invisible giant hand, suddenly gripped him.

With a "whoosh," he was sent flying like a cannonball, tracing a messy arc through the air before being tossed far away.

It crashed to the ground in the distance with a "bang," raising a cloud of dust.

"Where is Jackie Chan?" Jiang Shinian asked, his voice rough and hoarse, like an old bellows being pulled, which sounded particularly jarring in the quiet and oppressive atmosphere.

After sending Kurret flying, the surging dragon aura around him slowly receded like the tide. After all, he was still hoping to pry some useful information out of Blake. If he really scared him into a daze, he wouldn't be able to get anything out of him.

At the same time, he waved his sleeve, and a group of shadowy ninjas, like phantoms of the night, silently scattered and hid in every corner of the surroundings, closely monitoring every move. Not even a fly could escape their notice.

The power of the chicken and rabbit talismans within his body is like a lurking beast, secretly gathering strength, ready to devour anyone at any time, and responding to any unexpected situation.

There was nothing he could do. In this world, although the dark aura he was tainted with upon resurrection gave him some confidence, the opposing righteous faction had somehow obtained some heaven-defying opportunity, their power was incredibly strong, and their dense righteous aura permeated the land like a thick smog.

Even his secret connection with the shadow ninja was disrupted and became intermittent.

In the current situation, caution is the best policy; being cautious and playing it safe is the only way to survive in the future.

As Blake listened to Jiang Shinian inquire about Jackie Chan, his brows furrowed deeply, filled with doubt.

I'm just an archaeologist obsessed with the dust of history, how did I get caught up in this mess of gods fighting?

Could it be that this demon has clashed with Jackie Chan many times and is now angry and wants to settle scores with him and eliminate him completely?

As his gaze wandered, he saw the scattered bodies of his comrades around him. Some were mangled beyond recognition, like tattered rags torn by a gale, while others had turned to dust and merged into the earth. The tragic sight struck his heart, and anger suddenly surged from the bottom of his heart, burning fiercely.

He was nothing like the group behind Kurret. Those guys in District 9 were obsessed with capturing the demon alive, treating this mysterious and dangerous guy like a lab rat, trying to extract the secrets of his mysterious power from his body. However, they greatly underestimated the power of the Holy Lord and were soundly defeated, suffering heavy losses.

But Blake, with a pure heart of justice beating in his chest, vowed from the moment he stepped into this "battlefield" to seal the demon in the endless abyss or to make it vanish into thin air, to nip evil in the bud and prevent San Francisco, or even the whole of America, from being shrouded in gloom.

He had a close relationship with Jackie Chan and had also learned a lot from his father, that shrewd old man. However, the news that he reported to Congress disappeared without a trace. He really didn't know what those politicians were up to! Now that his comrade had died on the spot, how could he hold back?

"What exactly do you want?" Blake roared, veins bulging on his neck like angry snakes. His bald head gleamed coldly in the dim firelight, making him look like an angry lion ready to devour its prey.

"Hmph." Jiang Shinian stared down at him. Although he couldn't read his mind, he could tell from the look in the officer's eyes that the officer's anger had already burned through his skull.

But so what? In this "chess game".

Now he holds the power of life and death!

"After all, I'm the one holding the knife now. I don't want to see innocent civilians around me die and San Francisco turn into a sea of ​​fire, so I'd better quickly tell them where Jackie Chan and that old man are."

Blake was so angry that his eyes turned red, his teeth were almost ground to powder, his hands were clenched into fists, his knuckles turned white, and he glared fiercely at Jiang Shinian, but his body seemed to be frozen, and he did not dare to make any rash moves.

Seeing his appearance, Jiang Shinian's dragon eyes flashed with a cold light, and with a "whoosh," two beams of light shot out, just like lightning streaking across the night sky, carrying a destructive aura, and shot straight into the distance.

With a deafening roar, a huge crater was blasted into the ground, sending soil and rocks flying everywhere. Blood mist instantly filled the air, and a piercing scream tore through the night sky.

"Stop!" Blake roared hoarsely, his eyes bulging as if they were about to burst.

Jiang Shinian slowly turned his head, his expression calm to the point of indifference, and just quietly looked at him, as if waiting for an answer.

“Okay, I… I’ll call!” Blake shakily pulled out his communicator, his fingers trembling as he pressed the number.

When I dialed Jackie Chan's number, the waiting tone "beep-beep-beep" felt like a heavy hammer blow to my heart.

"Hello? Blake? What's going on? There are so many police officers running around like headless flies outside. What's causing such a commotion on your end?" As soon as the call connected, Jackie Chan's anxious and puzzled voice came through like a machine gun.

Blake glared at Jiang Shinian beside him, took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and said through gritted teeth, "I've had the worst luck ever. Me, the residents around here, and even the whole of San Francisco have been held hostage by this evil star, the Holy Lord. He's like a mad dog, forcing me to find out where you, Dad, and Xiaoyu are."

"Don't worry, I've arrived, but I'm all alone."

"You're alone? You've arrived already?" Blake looked at Jiang Shinian, repeating Jackie Chan's question, his voice tinged with despair.

At that moment, a person not far away rushed towards them against the flow of panicked people, like a lone boat breaking through the waves.

Jiang Shi Nian narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze piercing through the night.

After observing for a long time, it seems that only Jackie Chan, this hothead, is going to this "Feast at Hongmen" all by himself.

The atmosphere around them grew increasingly tense, like a fully drawn bow, ready to be released at any moment. Everyone was waiting for the next moment, the moment when the gears of fate would collide and crush everything unknown.

"Holy Lord!"

Jackie Chan, like a whirlwind carrying anger and justice, wearing a mysterious and ancient-looking armor of an immortal god, rushed to the scene with lightning speed.

What came into his view was a tragic scene, like a battlefield, a winding cobblestone path.

At this moment, it has become a "river of blood," with pools of crimson that are shocking to behold, spreading and overlapping wantonly, like a horrifying painting that has been splashed with paint by a demon.

The bodies of those who tragically lost their lives lay on the ground, blackened and wrinkled, their appearance after being scorched by the flames truly resembling worthless discarded coal. The pungent smell permeated the air, telling of endless sorrow and tragedy.

Every inch of space was filled with a deathly silence of despair. Jackie Chan's face was instantly shrouded in a mixture of pity and anger, his brows furrowed into a deep "川" shape, his eyes burning with fury and filled with heartache.

"Roar—" He roared at the top of his lungs at Jiang Shinian, who stood like a towering mountain in front of Blake.

The voice seemed to pierce through the oppressive sky, carrying a tremor of justice, echoing for a long time in this ravaged space.

Jiang Shinian, on the other hand, seemed like a detached spectator, raising an eyebrow slightly with a nonchalant and playful gesture, as if he had just heard an insignificant joke.

Then, he slowly extended a thick, scaly dragon claw, tilted his head as if no one else was around, and scratched his ear.

His posture was as relaxed as if he were lying on his own sofa basking in the sun, but the sinister and dangerous aura surrounding him was like a solidified black fog, undiminished, constantly reminding those around him that he was a demon from the abyss of darkness.

"This is the 'secret weapon' that the righteous forces arranged for you? This is all the armor you have?"

As Jiang Shinian spoke, he scrutinized Jackie Chan from head to toe, his gaze sweeping over the armor like a detector, a slight smile playing on his lips.

He drew a faint, mocking smile, his gaze as if scrutinizing a trivial trinket, completely ignoring Jackie Chan's indignation and anger.

But when his gaze lingered briefly on the armor, he suddenly felt as if a sharp icicle had pierced his heart.

A strong sense of unease and threat surged up, as if someone had silently brought a needle close to his eyes, making him feel uncomfortable all over, and every dragon scale seemed to stand up in protest.

He subconsciously raised his hand and grabbed the majestic, upward-pointing dragon horns on his head, as if trying to forcibly pull out this strangeness.

"Hmph, looks like I've met my match today. Not so easy to deal with."

He muttered under his breath, and the dark shadows beneath his feet spread outwards like ink poured into the still lake, silently yet irresistibly, weaving into an invisible and sinister net in the blink of an eye, making the eerie atmosphere even more intense.

Chapter 100 Let's fight!

"Holy Lord! You cruel and wicked demon!" Jackie Chan shouted as he strode closer, but his first step had just entered a seemingly ordinary area.

In an instant, the thick, inky darkness surged up from the ground like bamboo shoots after a spring rain, instantly encircling him and forming an airtight "dark cage."

Immediately afterwards, one ghostly soldier after another appeared as if they were phantoms squeezing out of the gates of hell, densely packed and layered, instantly surrounding him completely. The surrounding shadows swarmed, and the atmosphere was so oppressive that it was suffocating.

Jackie Chan abruptly stopped, his face instantly contorted with wariness, like a vigilant cheetah that had sensed deadly danger.

However, his gaze only swept briefly over the group of shadowy ninjas before he snapped back to his target like a sniper locking onto his target.

Staring intently at Jiang Shinian, his gaze was like two scorching laser beams, seemingly trying to pierce through the dragon's hard scales and strike its vitals.

After all, he was already an "old acquaintance" of these strange shadows from previous encounters.

Knowing their true strength, and despite their frighteningly large numbers, he wasn't too afraid because his father had carefully prepared armor to protect him.

At this moment, however, he had a vague feeling that the dark figures surrounding him this time seemed to have been secretly "upgraded and modified," exuding an indescribable evil aura. His heart felt like it was being gently tugged by a thin thread, and a trace of doubt arose.

But with a formidable enemy at hand, he didn't have the energy to think too much about it. He figured that as long as he dealt with Jiang Shinian, this "big trouble," these small fry were nothing more than "dust" that could be swept away with a flick of his wrist.

"Oh? I'm cruel?"

Jiang Shinian grinned, revealing a row of sharp fangs, and let out a series of eerie cries. The sound was like the hooting of owls in a graveyard on a cold night, sinister and piercing, sending chills down one's spine.