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

(Please, all you godfathers, be sure to read this next Tuesday! I'm begging you, you'll only get a chance to become a prison guard if you read this.)

In a hidden warehouse, the Earth Demon carried a struggling human to the Witchheart Demon.

"Sir, this is the grain we just caught."

The Demonic Heart of Witch closed his eyes helplessly, and the light in the room, along with the human's soul, was instantly swallowed by him.

The unfortunate man's body gradually shriveled up, and his struggles became weaker and weaker.

His hands hung limply at his sides, his soul almost completely devoured.

"Ugh!"

Finally, after a scream, the earth demon tossed the shriveled corpse aside.

"Not enough!" The Witchheart Demon stared at the cracks on his body, the cracks that Jon had inflicted.

He roared at the earth demon with a look of unwillingness:

"That's not nearly enough! Give us some more!"

Watching the Earth Demon's departing figure, the Witch Heart Demon roared loudly in his heart.

JOJO... I will definitely kill you, kill you!

On the other side, under the streetlights.

Jon stared blankly at the scroll in his hand, looking completely bewildered.

"What is this? Am I hallucinating?"

Under the streetlights, a large, round hole was clearly visible in the center of the wooden roll.

Most importantly, this large circular hole contains the most crucial part of the scroll.

This is something Jon worked so hard to get, and now what?

It's gone, it's gone!

The streetlight shone directly onto his face through the round hole, making him look like a complete idiot.

In an instant, the joy of having just learned the art of spinning vanished without a trace.

"Who did this?!" Jon clenched his fists, his breathing becoming rapid. "Don't let me catch you!"

It's no wonder Jon was so angry; if it weren't for that, it wouldn't be.

But this scroll, at a glance, is clearly damaged by human intervention; even the edges of the tear are jagged.

"Damn bastard." He rolled up the reel, closed his eyes, and vented, "XXXXXX."

After venting his anger on the spot, Jon returned to the designated meeting point two hours later.

He casually tossed away the cigarette butt in his hand by the roadside and looked up.

"Huh?" The sight before him made his pupils shrink.

Right in front of him lay the wreckage of an overturned Chevrolet.

Even the acrid smell in the air couldn't bring Jon back to his senses.

"......ah?"

He subconsciously raised his hand and rubbed his hair, his eyes filled with the confusion of a college student.

To be honest, Jon hadn't felt this lost in a long time.

The last time he felt this lost was the day he learned that he was the biological son of that bastard Dior.

Thinking of Dio, Jon managed to muster a little energy and analyzed the scene before him.

The entire asphalt road was cracked, and scorch marks were everywhere along the roadside. At the same time, no vehicle on the roadside was spared.

The answer is now obvious: the guy who can blow up an entire street is definitely Ghost Rider.

His car was just one of the unlucky ones affected.

What kind of vehicle killer is this?!

A while later.

Jon, who was squatting on the side of the street smoking, suddenly heard footsteps approaching from afar.

"Jon!"

Thor swaggered over, carrying a bottle of liquor, reeking of alcohol.

"I found out, hiccup." He hiccuped. "Someone said they seemed to have seen the Devil's Palm a few days ago. What about you?"

"Got a scroll," Jon said, waving the scroll in his hand. "I got it from a priest."

"A scroll?" Thor reached out to grab it. "Let me see it, Jon."

"What are you doing?" Jon slapped his hand away and said coaxingly, "Don't touch it, this thing is cursed."

Actually, this was mainly because Jon didn't want others to see him looking embarrassed.

"A curse? Hahaha!" Thor laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "I am the son of Odin! What curse do I have to fear? Give it to me."

Before he could finish speaking, Thor snatched the scroll away.

"Hmph!"

Thor hummed twice in satisfaction, then eagerly unrolled the scroll.

"Let me see just how weird it is... huh?"

"Actually, it curses the person who opens it so they can't see the contents..." Jon suddenly deflated. "Forget it, I can't make this up anymore."

There's nothing in between.

"By Odin!" Thor breathed a sigh of relief; he had thought he was truly cursed.

"Your Midgardian priests love to play tricks." He tossed the scroll back. "This hole is definitely not right."

"It looks like it was stolen," Jon said, pointing to the jagged edges. "The cut looks like it was pried open with a dagger."

"Thief?"

Thor squinted at him, his breath reeking of alcohol, and said:

"I swear in the name of a warrior, I will teach this thieving bastard a lesson."

At this time...

As the two were chatting, Coulson walked over with a file folder in his hand and saw two guys squatting under a streetlamp whispering to each other.

Although he didn't understand why, the well-dressed agent still quietly squatted down next to them.

Because this makes one more sociable.

"Why do you all look so gloomy?" Coulson raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you all came up empty-handed."

"Quite the opposite." Jon raised his flashlight, the beam sweeping across the pile of scrap metal across the street. "But you'll have to look at this first."

"Huh?" Coulson looked up, his eyes widening instantly. "What the fuck?! Who did this?!"

"A raging bastard riding a motorcycle, and also a high-spirited lunatic."

"Look," Jon shrugged, "he blew up all the cars on the street, not one survived."

"What should we do then?"

"There's nothing I can do," Jon said, shrugging.

This is where the helplessness lies; they are truly at a loss when faced with this Ghost Rider who loves to cause trouble in the streets.

"How about we ask headquarters to send another vehicle?" Coulson suggested.

"And then wait to get bombed again?" Jon rolled his eyes. "Let's think of a more environmentally friendly way to travel."

That's just an excuse.

Jon knew perfectly well that this was likely the activation of the passive ability known as Vehicle Killer, which was passed down in the Joestar family.

I heard that the old man once had this ability. Could it be that after I became the only remaining Joestar, this thing also came into my possession?

Could it be such a coincidence?

Jon looked pained.

Because this is a curse that even wealth and power cannot withstand.

Whenever a critical moment arrives, this passive skill always results in his vehicle being rendered unusable.

This is fate's arrangement; there's no point in trying to fight against it.

"What do you mean, for example?" Coulson pressed. "What kind of method is considered environmentally friendly? Bicycles?"

"For example..." Thor suddenly interjected, "We can ride horses? By the way, you Midgard should still have horses, right?"

Thor has been on Earth for so long and hasn't seen a single horse, so he thinks that the horse species may have become extinct on Earth.

"This is good."

Jon's eyes lit up.

This suggestion was exactly what Jon Snow wanted to hear; he was still thinking about how to study cavalry maneuvers.

What a coincidence!

But Ghost Rider's explosion was the best; it was like a pillow being delivered when you're sleepy.

Just as the three were discussing, Remy returned in a dashing manner with a pocket full of cash.

"Hey," he whistled, "are you guys cosplaying as The Thinkers? Well, you're wearing a bit too much clothing."

"Heh." Jon chuckled coldly, glancing sideways at Thor. "Thor, tell him our intelligence, tell him properly."

"I'd be happy to help."

Thor rolled up his sleeves and, before Remy could react, grabbed him by the neck.

After some "friendly exchange," the four finally shared the information and decided to ride eastward the next morning to the heart of the devil.

As for Iggy, his whereabouts are currently unknown; he may have gone off to hunt in the wild somewhere.

The morning sun shines on the streets of the border town.

Four men, leading rented packhorses, stood in front of a run-down bar.

"My God," Coulson exclaimed, gazing at the sunrise, "we're like cowboys in a Western movie."

"A cowboy?" Remy shuffled the cards with one hand, then casually mounted his horse. "Not bad at all."

"Hey, Jon," Thor took a swig of his drink, swaying with each step, "where's your little rascal? Aren't you waiting for him?"

"Iggy?" Jon pulled a box of coffee-flavored gum from his pocket. "It'll be here soon."

The voice just fell.

"Woof!"

A dark figure suddenly darted out from an unknown place and accurately snatched the entire box of chewing gum.

"Look, here it comes!"

The voice just fell.

He was the only novice rider among them.

Jon nimbly flipped himself onto the horse, completely forgetting that he couldn't ride at all.

When he came to his senses, he was surprised to find that the horse beneath him was unusually docile and didn't even snort.

"Huh?" Jon exclaimed in surprise. "Looks like I'm quite talented."

It must be said that Jon Snow does indeed have a talent for riding horses, and his talent is beyond imagination.

I just don't know whose talent they inherited.

It can't possibly be Dior, right?

Jon thought to himself.