Anime Crossover: This Holy Lord Only Wants Friendly Communication

Easterners are like skilled craftsmen, blending magic and ideals, refining and polishing them to achieve what they have today, but the secrets of the past remain shrouded in mystery.

"Could it be a sorcerer who left this world many years ago?"

Jiang Shinian harbored numerous doubts, as if they were tangled in a knot.

Based on Black Stone's description, I had always thought it was a dashing and heroic man, but now it is such a stunningly beautiful woman who has appeared.

"Or is it someone else?"

The woman pressed closer, her aura swirling and coalescing like a tangible storm, sending chills down one's spine.

"Hmph, they've come with ill intentions."

Jiang Shinian, like a seasoned veteran, made a decisive move, burying his doubts deep in his heart like a treasured secret letter, and gave a cold snort, as if it were a declaration of war.

Since language is ineffective and questions cannot elicit a response, then force should be used to break the deadlock and make them speak through strength.

"Get them subdued first!"

This place is like a mysterious secret realm, isolated from the world. The ancient mountains are like a natural barrier, shielding all the energy, like a perfect cloak for concealing one's whereabouts.

This allowed him to be unafraid of being probed by righteous forces, revealing his full strength and eliminating any worries about "adding extra food" to the protagonist group or causing trouble for himself.

"boom!"

Like a volcano that had been dormant for thousands of years suddenly erupting, a terrifying wave, as powerful and unfathomable as a vast ocean, surged out from Jiang Shi Nian's body, sweeping out in all directions like a raging torrent.

Wherever he went, it was as if the end of the world had arrived, with mountains shaking and the earth trembling, displaying the might of a king.

Having undergone rebirth and tempering, Jiang Shinian emerged from the ashes like a phoenix breaking free of its cocoon, his strength soaring. The boundless flames within him burned like a powder keg that had been ignited.

The black that was once hidden deep within the five-colored radiance now resembles a king ascending the throne, its domineering aura dominating, its radiance dazzling and eye-catching.

The golden flames, like a giant golden dragon, roared out of Jiang Shi Nian's body, as if unleashing an energy storm that stirred up fierce winds. Wherever they passed, the mist was torn to shreds and vanished without a trace, like fragile paper.

The gale was like a mad beast, raging and roaring. The woman's skirt fluttered like a startled flag, and her black hair danced wildly like a nimble ink snake.

The woman's steps seemed to be nailed to the ground. After a brief pause, she moved forward against the gale, as if fighting against fate and advancing towards the eye of the storm, just like a fearless warrior.

"Well done!"

Jiang Shinian was like a heroic war god, shouting loudly like thunder. His whole body shone like the blazing sun in the sky, dazzling and boundless. His flames surged like an endless ocean, surging and turbulent, far exceeding imagination.

The golden light was like a blazing sun, so intense it seemed to turn everything in the world to ashes and burn away all illusions.

The flames resembled a burning universe, a vast expanse of strange phenomena unfolding like a dreamlike scroll, with stars falling like ripe fruit.

The red sun, like a weary traveler, slowly sinks into the depths.

Such grandeur is as if Pangu created the world and rebuilt the universe, burning the chaotic world into nothingness, which is awe-inspiring, awe-inspiring, and evokes a sense of unease.

"boom!"

"Dad!"

Inside that antique shop, filled with the fragrance of time, it felt like an ancient secret realm had come to life.

The dim light shone through the carved window lattice, casting a mysterious and lingering shadow on each of the dazzling antiques and curiosities.

Jackie Chan's face was flushed red, like a ripe tomato, with veins bulging on his forehead. He looked exactly like a warrior in the midst of a fierce battle, fighting with all his might against the immortal divine armor that was tightly attached to his body.

The armor, like an ancient behemoth with its own consciousness, stubbornly clung to his limbs, the metal plates rubbing and colliding with each other, making a "crackling" sound.

Like a giant beast grinding its teeth, it vents its stubborn refusal to be removed.

Jackie Chan pulled with all his might, muttering, "Have you found the curse? Now that Holy Lord is like a shadowy, unpredictable demonic wind, disappearing in the blink of an eye. What if he takes advantage of the fact that no one is around and goes out to cause trouble, creating a huge and uncontrollable mess in this vast world? How are we going to deal with that? Just thinking about the consequences sends chills down my spine."

Chapter 123 Dad, have you found the curse?

After a difficult "struggle," the armor was reluctantly removed under his relentless "attack," just like shedding a heavy shackle that restricted freedom.

Jackie Chan let out a long breath, and the exhaled breath was like a white ribbon of liberation, drifting leisurely in the air.

He picked up the armor with both hands with reverence and care, as if he were holding a rare treasure, and gently placed it back into the ancient, heavy box that seemed to carry a thousand years of history.

Every movement was filled with reverence, as if afraid of disturbing the ancient spirits sleeping within. Only after placing them properly did he turn around and look at his father, who was bent over a table piled with ancient books, busy as a diligent spider weaving its web.

"Oh dear! If the Holy Lord does evil, those satellites hanging high in the heavens are like eyes that can see everything clearly, just like those that can see through the smallest details! Why is your head just like that hard and stubborn block of wood? I don't know who you took after!"

The old man was completely absorbed in the mysterious and obscure world of the magic book, which seemed to be woven from runes from another world. But this sudden question made him abruptly look up from the book, his eyes wide open.

Those eyes were like two burning flames of anger, roaring at the top of their lungs. The voice was high-pitched and impassioned, carrying a hint of exasperation and frustration. It buzzed and echoed in the limited space of the shop, startling the surrounding dust, which seemed to flutter wildly in the interplay of light and shadow like startled sprites.

"Ah! It seems so."

Jackie Chan slapped his forehead, and a silly grin instantly appeared on his face, like a ray of warm sunshine dispelling the awkward gloom from before. He looked just like a bewildered child who had suddenly come to his senses.

"So, Dad, have you found the curse?"

Like a persistent traveler who wouldn't turn back until he hit a wall, he pressed on with his question, his eyes full of expectation, as if he were hoping that his father could conjure up a lifeline from that pile of old papers.

The old man was so angry that he glared at Jackie Chan, his beard bristling like withered grass swaying in the wind. He seemed to be scolding Jackie Chan for "bringing up the sore spot" and was unwilling to waste any more words.

He buried himself in the mountain of books, his hands moving like a pair of nimble butterfly wings, rapidly flipping through the yellowed, wrinkled books that exuded a mysterious and magical aura.

Each page turned seemed to play an ancient and mysterious melody, rustling as if telling those hidden stories that had been sealed away by time and were little known to others.

At this moment, Xiaoyu, who had been standing to the side for a long time like a quiet porcelain doll, could no longer bear to watch the scene before her.

She took a few small steps, reached out and tugged at Jackie Chan's trouser leg, and said in a clear voice, "Uncle Jackie, if Dad had found the spell, he wouldn't be here spinning like a top, constantly flipping through books to find it."

Her voice was clear and melodious, like a spring leaping in the mountains, breaking the slightly dull silence in the shop.

Jackie Chan scratched his head, the motion resembling a憨厚大猩猩 scratching an itch, and nodded vigorously in response, "That makes sense."

Just then, without looking up, the old man, like a strategist who could strategize and win battles from afar, loudly ordered, "Xiaoyu, go and get the book with nine six-pointed stars printed on it from the fifth shelf of the fourth bookshelf. That book is like a beautiful woman hidden away in her boudoir, waiting for your discerning eye to discover it. Don't make a mistake."

"Okay daddy!"

Xiaoyu's eyes lit up, as if the brightest stars in the night sky had been instantly illuminated. She was full of energy and responded.

Like a lively and agile deer darting through the forest, she skipped and ran out of the study, her braids swaying merrily with her movements, like willow branches swaying in the wind, exuding youthful vigor and vitality.

"Jackie Chan, what are you standing there for? Hurry up and make your old man a cup of tea! Your old man is so busy, he hasn't had a moment to rest, and his throat is practically on fire!"

The old man once again issued commands with a powerful voice, which resonated throughout the shop like a booming bell.

Jackie Chan dared not delay for even a moment. Like a soldier receiving an urgent military order, he hurriedly responded and ran out as fast as the wind.

He was filled with unease, and the image of his father getting angry and suddenly flicking his forehead flashed into his mind. Just thinking about it made his scalp tingle.

"Dad, here's the book."

Not long after, Xiaoyu came running back in a flurry of energy and hope.

She solemnly presented the book to her father with both hands, her little face flushed from running, like the most beautiful peach blossoms in spring, full of seriousness and piety, as if she were offering the world the most precious treasure.

"Thank you, Xiaoyu. You're much smarter than your Uncle Long."

The old man took the book, a relieved smile spreading across his face, a smile as warm as the spring sun, dispelling the gloom from before.

The fine lines at the corners of his eyes revealed his approval and affection for Xiaoyu, like gentle marks etched by time.

"Haha, no way! Uncle Long is amazing too!"

Xiaoyu scratched her head, smiling shyly. Her smile was like the first gentle breeze of spring, full of simplicity and innocence.

Just then, a sudden cry of alarm came from outside, the sound like the hooting of an owl, breaking the tranquility of the shop.

Immediately following was the ear-piercing sound of glass and porcelain shattering, like ice cracking in winter, or thunder exploding in one's ears, as if something heavy had fallen, startling everyone in the shop.

"What's wrong, Uncle Long?!"

Xiaoyu's heart tightened, her expression changed drastically, and she made as if she were about to rush out, like a little beast protecting its cubs, eager to find out what was going on.

"Stop looking, it must be your Uncle Long who clumsily broke the teacup again."

The old man glanced at the doorway and spoke slowly and deliberately, his tone resolute, like a wise man who knew everything.

Clearly, they were already used to Jackie Chan's "mishaps," their expressions as if stating a given, unchangeable fact.

Sure enough, a moment later, Jackie Chan shouted at the top of his lungs, "It's nothing—I accidentally broke the teacup!"

His voice carried a hint of embarrassment and frustration, like a child who had made a mistake and was trying to cover it up, but was forced to confess out of helplessness.

The tone of his voice drifted leisurely through the air, adding a touch of humor.

"Uh……"

Xiaoyu's lips twitched, her face full of helplessness. She shrugged and stood still, like a spectator who was already used to the farce in front of her.

This is the only way I can express my tolerance and understanding of Uncle Long's "old habits".

After a while, Jackie Chan carefully walked in, carrying a steaming cup of tea, as if he were holding a fragile, rare pearl.

He walked each step carefully, as if afraid of making another mistake.

Chapter 124 Xuanwu: You want me to deal with my master?

He carefully placed the cup in the empty space next to his father, barely daring to breathe, as if he were performing a solemn and respectful sacrificial ceremony. His cautious demeanor was so endearing that it was hard not to laugh.

"This is it!"

The old man, who had been frowning as if his brows were shrouded in sorrow, suddenly raised his voice, revealing an undisguised joy.

The voice was like the dawn breaking through the gloom. A withered finger jabbed a point in the book, excitement overflowing. "I was chatting with Xuanwu earlier, and it revealed a secret to me..."

The old man's thoughts drifted back to the past, to a beach bathed in golden sunlight, a scene like a dreamlike fairyland, where the waves, like a group of joyful children, gently lapped the sand, creating a soothing and beautiful melody.

Every wave seems to whisper tales of the sea's tender affection.

The old man carried a bag of magic ore, which shimmered with an eerie light in the sunlight, like a bag filled with stars.

He strode towards the massive yet childlike Xuanwu, tossed a piece of ore at him, and asked in a tentative manner, "Xuanwu, do you know why you were born?"

Xuanwu raised its head, vaguely recalling its master's instructions.

If you don't know how to answer, just repeat what the other person said.

It blinked its eyes, like an innocent child trying to recall its lessons, and barked twice: "Because of birth, therefore born."

The voice was childlike yet clear, echoing softly across the empty beach, carrying a hint of innocent ignorance.

"Ok?"