Having traversed countless realms, can you possibly be as clever as me?

He pounded his chest with his left hand, as the swirling mist of soul energy coiled around his massive warhammer—

"The dead belong to me, the living follow closely behind."

Dongjiang slammed his warhammer into the ground, and in an instant, terrifying power destroyed the entire canyon! The horrifying power drew the attention of all the demons in the Wrathful Ring!

Looking at the ruins that had been destroyed, Tsurugi raised his left hand, stirring up countless black mists of souls and countless wails, tearing apart the raging sky.

"Everyone will submit to the King of Life and Death!!!"

Having transmigrated, my only purpose is to kill, kill, kill! : 88. The Human World on the Brink of Collapse

"We must remember this day, a specter, an evil specter, haunted the skies of Europe, its Iron Curtain stretching across..."

Constantine turned off the radio, the cigarette dangling from his lips casting wisps of smoke in the air. He slumped wearily in the sofa, staring at the erotic magazine in his hand.

"John, you're smoking again?!"

Chas's voice rang out, tinged with helplessness and annoyance, while Constantine glanced at his assistant and said lazily...

"Forget it, let's just consider it as end-of-life care. Anyway, a world war is about to break out, and if we don't draw now, we probably won't have another chance later."

Chase looked helplessly at Constantine. Tsurugi's assessment of him was correct. John Constantine was always like this: he would glimmer a ray of hope in despair, and then quickly degenerate back into his original, despicable state.

You can trust him in dire straits, but don't ask where the dire straits came from!

It seems like only three months have passed since he cured his lung!

He resumed his decadent lifestyle, although he reduced his smoking to three or four cigarettes a day, but it was still a form of slow suicide.

But this might actually be a good thing for Chase?

Only if Constantine continues to degenerate can Chas see the brilliance of his humanity once again, thus proving that he still has the hope and possibility of going to heaven.

"Have you bought everything I wanted?"

"I bought it: the Screaming Scarab, the Dragon's Breath Scepter, the Pharaoh's ashes, and fifteen fast food hamburgers."

"That's all?" Constantine raised an eyebrow and raised his voice.

"You mean you easily bought these hard-to-get things on the black market, but when I asked you to go to the supermarket to buy some wine and supplies, you told me you couldn't buy them and could only buy this junk that even the British find unpalatable?"

"There's no supplies left in the supermarkets! You want to hoard them, but others do too!"

Chas slammed what he was holding onto the table and pointed irritably at the empty street outside.

"I walked three blocks to order this much takeout, take it or leave it!"

"Okay, okay, it's my fault."

Constantine shrugged, patted his assistant on the shoulder to reassure him, and then looked at the pile of fast food burgers in front of him with a troubled expression.

—Are we going to have to live off this kind of food in the future?

But just as Chase said, Britain, and indeed the world, is not exactly a thriving place these days...

After Tsurugi left, Britain disintegrated as he had predicted. The once mighty British Empire quickly transformed into Great Britain without Ireland or Scotland, leaving only London after its bureaucratic system was completely wiped out.

However, some conscientious officials from Cambridge who survived managed to salvage the mess—and then they changed course.

The old-fashioned capitalists and imperialists, led by Britain, have suddenly become communists.

This is not your average Comintern; it's Comintern with a liberation theology. In short, it means that God exists, but His afterlife is not determined by faith. Only those who do good and dedicate themselves to the better future of humanity are qualified to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

Although the social system of this declaration sounds somewhat comical, it quickly gained widespread support, given that London had not long ago suffered the real iron fist of God.

As for the resistance—to be honest, considering that there are fewer than a handful of living capitalists who can stand up for Britain these days, and that the Conservative Party is basically wiped out, the only one standing up to stop them is the Anglican Church.

When the priests heard that someone was trying to take away their right to interpret the scriptures, they all jumped up like rabbits whose tails had been stepped on.

Unfortunately, under British rule, the Anglican Church has always been a yes-man of the Queen and Downing Street, even more obedient than the Orthodox Church. Moreover, those few Cambridge graduates even quietly produced a recording.

Yes, this group actually secretly recorded their conversation with Tsurugi.

These are the words of that Eastern sage—putting everything else aside, he actually said that if his good brother Jesus were here, he would definitely be labeled a "commi" by this group of people.

Oh my, that's quite a big deal!

You said Jesus was a communist, and even the Vatican didn't know how to respond.

However, St. John XXIII of the time was indeed a kind and gentle man. During his reign, he not only sincerely received leaders of the Orthodox Church, the Anglican Church, and other Protestants, inviting them to the Vatican Councils, but also removed provocative phrases from the liturgical rites. He did not consider himself the ruler of the Vatican, but visited the Italian Prime Minister and privately met with Su Suizong's son-in-law, engaging in sincere conversation with him.

So when faced with the claim by the saint that Jesus's ideas would be considered communist, this good-natured man directly stated to the outside world—that is the mercy of the Lord, who always practices the most beautiful and noble morality of mankind.

This statement caused an uproar. The Pope had sided with Commis? How could I possibly have such a dream!

In this time of great turmoil in both religious and secular circles, only the bald eagle and the red bear, who should have been actively preparing for war at the center of the vortex, remained completely unresponsive.

Because these two would never admit that God exists—unless a real iron fist is smashed on their heads, they would never admit it, even if it meant death.

They pretended not to know or even deliberately blocked all information, while actively preparing for World War III amidst their growing mutual interest.

This is why food and supplies are in very short supply in London, and people are starting to dig shelters in their own backyards.

"I went out for a bit, and I heard he's back at midnight. I'll go check on him."

Constantine grabbed his coat and decided to head to the midnight bar; perhaps there would be some good news there.

Driving Chase's taxi, Constantine arrived at Midnight Daddy's bar, the club of the middleman between the living and the dead who had traveled to the New World three months ago, and which had now reopened.

But when Constantine went inside, he found very few guests.

Without needing to announce himself, he went straight into Midnight's office. Seeing Ni sitting at his desk stroking a skull, Constantine sat down opposite him and said...

"Business seems to be terrible. Have all the customers gone home?"

"Perhaps," Midnight said lazily, exhaling a puff of hookah amidst the stench of the enhancer.

“If they really all ‘go home,’ then I think the world is doomed.”

Is the situation truly beyond repair?

Constantine sat up straight, his expression pained.

"Are you talking about the human world or other places? I can only get information about the human world from the news. As for other places—just like what you've seen, those bastards who have come to the human world are all busy with their own preparations."

"...It's already decided to get the injection?"

Constantine paused for a moment, then asked, his face pale.

"Ha, so you're reluctant to part with the life you finally gained?" Midnight laughed heartily at Constantine's pale face.

"I'm really curious where you got the guts to do something so outrageous! But I'm certain that even when the end comes, you, John Constantine, will become the next 'Cain'!"

Constantine responded with the middle finger, his face full of sorrow.

"Is there really no room for maneuver? Damn it, maybe I should just mind control Kennedy!"

"Then you'll probably need to prepare to control a dozen or even dozens of people," Midnight said slowly.

"And most people you don't even know what their name is or where they are."

An awkward silence fell over the room.

Constantine may have to accept this terrible fact: having barely escaped death, he may now have to live amidst nuclear ruins.

Just then, a small white fan that was placed on the table at midnight suddenly started moving on its own without any wind.

And it spun faster and faster, faster and faster. Midnight blinked, then, as if realizing something, took a sharp drag on its hookah.

Thick smoke entered his brain through his throat, and midnight's eyes rolled back as his body trembled as if electrocuted.

A moment later, he shouted, panting heavily, sweating profusely, his expression a mixture of strangeness and excitement.

"Good news, a world war may be averted!"

Before Constantine could even ask, Midnight rattled off a string of questions.

"But the bad news is that my medium told me something—a great demon is invading the Pentagon and the White House with an army of the Third Reich."

Constantine: Huh?

……

1962年10月27日，下午2点47分

Washington, D.C., White House Situation Room

The situation room was filled with smoke, despite smoking being prohibited. Kennedy loosened his tie and stared at the three latest intelligence reports laid out before him:

The first report came from a U-2 reconnaissance aircraft, confirming that the Soviet missile site in San Cristóbal, Cuba, had entered a state of combat readiness, with the SS-4 medium-range ballistic missile launchers deployed.

The second report comes from the Atlantic Fleet. The US Navy destroyer USS Biller confronted a Soviet B-59 submarine in Cuban waters, and the submarine commander was suspected of having prepared a contingency plan to launch a nuclear torpedo at any time.

A third, clandestine note from Moscow, Khrushchev's latest one, is even tougher than yesterday's, demanding that the United States first remove its Jupiter missiles from Turkey, or "the consequences will surpass the sum of all wars in human history."

"Gentlemen," Kennedy's voice was hoarse. He had slept less than three hours last night, and had hardly had a good night's sleep in the past few days.

"We now have two options: airstrikes to destroy Cuban missile bases, or blockade Cuba and wait for negotiations. But the Soviet submarine issue has complicated everything."

Defense Secretary McNamara's fingers tapped on the table, a habit he had when extremely nervous.

"If that submarine launches a nuclear torpedo, even just one, the Atlantic Fleet will lose at least one aircraft carrier. We will retaliate immediately, and then..."

“Then came the full nuclear swap,” National Security Advisor George Bundy added, his face as grim as Kennedy's.

"The Soviet Union will attack the American mainland, and we will attack the Soviet mainland. Estimated casualties: 70 million Americans will die on the first day, and radiation and famine will take another 100 million within a year."

The room fell silent. Only the low hum of the ventilation system could be heard.

How did things turn out this way?

Although the Cuban Missile Crisis was tense, both their staff and their moles in Moscow told them that Khrushchev was the one who was more restless than them.

The Soviets wouldn't fight a nuclear war; they didn't have the guts!

Of course, the Americans didn't actually have any intention of fighting. The only person in the entire White House who really wanted to fight the Soviets to the end was Kennedy.

The reason he wanted to start a fight was rather ridiculous: it was to save his life...

"If the Soviets are really going to take action, we must fight back against their invasion for the sake of national security and world peace!"

"This is a war, gentlemen! We cannot back down; we must show a tough stance!"

Kennedy slammed his fist on the table and shouted in an uncompromising tone.

Kennedy was terrified. Not long ago, assassins had slaughtered half of his campaign team's confidants with impunity. Rather than believing it was the work of some so-called 'saint' who lurked in Britain, Kennedy was more inclined to believe that it was an assassin hired by other domestic interest groups!