American comic: I, JoJo, am going to heaven!

"Tsk." Jon smacked his lips in annoyance after putting down his phone.

I should have used Aja's Redstone laser to try and take down the Witchheart Demon.

Now that he's gotten away, Jon is getting angrier and angrier.

It can only be said that humans are indeed complex creatures, and their changeable personalities are one of them.

"Sir..." the priest staggered out, hesitatingly asking, "That demon...?"

"Father."

Jon shook his head slightly and casually tossed the battle-damaged knuckle duster over.

"Give."

"Huh?" The priest hurriedly caught the brass knuckles.

He had actually thought that Jon would keep the blessed knuckle duster for himself.

In addition, Jon Snow stood in his way without hesitation to defeat the Witchheart.

It's true that you can't judge a book by its cover; it seems his appearance has caused him a lot of misunderstandings.

The priest sighed inwardly.

May the Lord always protect him and keep him safe and sound.

After he reached out and caught it securely, he immediately bowed deeply and said:

"Thank you so much. If it weren't for you, I would definitely be in big trouble today."

Because he had read the records, according to the church records, that the Witchheart Demon never lets go of its prey once it has it in its mouth.

"In return, I can answer any questions you may have, anything at all."

The priest held the Bible and spoke earnestly.

Seeing this, Jon walked up to him, extended his hand, and introduced himself:

"Jon Yowick".

"Jon Jovik?" the priest muttered, frowning. "Jon Jovik...wait!"

He suddenly widened his eyes, a hint of surprise flashing in them.

"Are you JOJO? I'm sorry, but could I see your shoulder?"

"Shoulder?" Jon's eyes sharpened as he looked at the priest and threatened:

"If you can't give a reasonable explanation later, I'll beat you to a pulp, and I mean it."

As he spoke, he reached out and ripped open his collar, revealing a star-shaped birthmark on his shoulder.

"It really is a star-shaped birthmark!" The priest's voice trembled with excitement. "You're that JoJo! Come with me!"

Before Jon could react with any confusion, he was dragged by the priest into a secret room in the church.

In the flickering candlelight, half of the priest's face was hidden in shadow as he spoke in a deep voice:

"First lesson—" he paused, then continued, "Don't have any expectations of me."

Jon's face darkened, and he looked displeased. He thought to himself.

What is this guy rambling on about? Can't he just get to the point? Should we beat him up first?

Yeah, beating him up is definitely the most effective way to shut him up!

He clenched his fist, preparing to teach this pretentious priest a lesson.

"I have something to give you," the priest suddenly said, turning his back to him.

"Um?"

Jon's raised fist froze in mid-air.

Jon Snow, possessing the Golden Spirit, immediately made a decision.

He watched the priest's back as he rummaged through the pile of junk, and silently lowered his hand.

It seems we can discuss teaching this guy a lesson later.

"Where...where did I put it..." The priest frantically searched through an old wooden box, when suddenly—

"Found it!"

The priest, panting, lifted a dusty metal box.

"A hundred years ago, a wealthy man named Zeppeli entrusted it to my grandfather, saying that a hundred years later, a JOJO with a star-shaped birthmark would come and take it away."

"Looks like he was right." He pushed the box toward Jon. "Jon Yowick, that's you."

"You are the incredibly virtuous JoJo!"

"Playing tricks."

Jon shook his head, frowned, took the box, rubbed his knuckles on the lid for a moment, and then decisively opened it.

Two green metal spheres, gleaming with a faint light, lay quietly on the velvet cloth.

Then, he simply picked one up and weighed it in his palm.

"Is this an iron ball? Father, what does this mean?"

"Don't ask me," the priest waved his hands repeatedly, "our family has never opened this box for generations."

"However..." He turned around and pulled out a yellowed notebook, "there is a record here... ah, it's here."

He cleared his throat, his expression respectful, like a professional charlatan.

Although he was a charlatan, the charlatan said:

"The Lord said, 'All things are round; if things can turn back...'"

"So?" Jon raised an eyebrow, completely bewildered. "You mean you want me to spin this iron ball?"

"Uh..." the priest nodded guiltily, "...that's roughly what you mean?"

"All right."

Jon silently gripped the iron ball in his hand.

"Spinning? Let me see what secrets you hold."

"Wait a minute!" Jon's pupils contracted.

As soon as the iron ball was moved, a scratch was revealed on the bottom of the box.

A gold rectangle meticulously carved with a dagger, in a 16:9 ratio!

"This ratio..."

Suddenly, Jon paused, as countless buried memories began to surface in his mind.

This is... could it be that...?

A 16:9 golden square...

The priest's words still echoed in my ears.

Lesson one: Don't have any strange expectations of me.

Memories that were on the verge of being forgotten began to resurface in Jon's mind.

He remembered, he remembered it completely—it was the power of reversal!

"Lesson One?"

"It's the power of rotation..." Jon was momentarily stunned, then he seemed to understand something. "The iron ball spinning?"

"So it was Zeppeli! The one with the technique comparable to a Stand called Spin!"

"Add that golden rectangle, and I get it!"

Jon opened his right hand, and under the priest's questioning gaze, the iron ball in his palm began to spin on its own.

With a flick of the wrist, the iron ball transformed into a green afterimage, piercing through the wall, and then, under the force of rotation, arced back into the palm of the hand.

"Heh..." Jon caught the iron ball, a genuine smile of joy on his face. "Wow, it really came full circle."

"You've figured it out?" The priest stared at the hole in the wall, speechless. "Is this what Zeppeli left you?"

"Not just for me, but also for you." Jon tossed the empty box back. "I'll take this iron ball with me; you can make another pair yourself."

Jon waved and turned to leave, but then suddenly turned back and said:

"Wait, Father, you haven't given me the information on the Devil's Palm yet."

"Here you go," the priest said, tossing a scroll without turning his head. "This is it."

Snap! Jon caught it steadily, a slight smile playing on his lips. He reached out and removed his hat, gesturing towards the priest, and said:

"Goodbye, Father. Be careful, and whatever you do, don't die."

After saying that, Jon left.

"There's no need to worry." The priest raised his hand to his chest and bowed slightly to Jon as he left.

He stood up, revealing a gold tooth engraved with strange runes. He glanced at the empty box and said with certainty:

"JOJO, I, Sidney Zeppeli, will never die at the hands of a mere devil."

Outside the church, Jon put his hat back on and walked toward the meeting point by the light of the streetlights.

This night was destined to be anything but peaceful.

in the city.

Ghost Rider hunts demons in the streets, while Thor gathers information in a bar.

While the King of Cards is gambling away fortunes at the casino, Coulson is going through police files at the police station.

At this moment, Jon Snow holds in his hands the secret records that the church has guarded for a thousand years concerning the devil's palm and the remains of the saint.

"Hmph." Jon weighed the scroll in his hand and slowly unrolled it under the streetlight.

The moment he saw the contents, his pupils contracted sharply—

"What?!"