Tianjin, starting with unorthodox methods to achieve immortality

Inside a magnificent four-story building in the Japanese concession, the atmosphere was completely different from the fierce battle taking place in the rainy night outside.

The spacious hall was brightly lit by candlelight, and several rows of long windows were wide open. The sounds of fighting and shouting from the streets below could be faintly heard, but they did not disturb the composure of the people inside.

Standing by the window were more than a dozen Western church personnel dressed in different styles of robes, as well as several high-ranking Onmyoji from the Japanese concession.

They stood side by side, their gazes fixed on the battlefield below, their expressions showing no hostility, but rather a leisurely spectator's air.

The Xikai Church and the Sun Church have always been bitter enemies, and have been fighting openly and covertly in Tianjin for decades. At this moment, the priests and bishops on both sides are standing together, occasionally exchanging a few words in hushed tones.

Joseph, who had just returned to Jin City from America, stood in the front row, wearing a black divine robe, with the spider statue on his chest reflecting slightly in the candlelight.

He saw everything clearly during that little episode in the chaotic fight.

A despicable person.

Despite having a body of bronze and iron, he deliberately pretends to be someone with low cultivation.

He had seen this kind of trick of pretending to be weak to take advantage of others far too many times.

However, this person's physical body is indeed incredibly strong.

Despite being surrounded by more than a dozen shikigami, he managed to escape unscathed, without even breaking a single bone.

Could it be related to the divine transformation?

Joseph silently weighed the matter in his mind, then gently shook his head.

It's just that it's thicker-skinned; in front of these people, it's nothing more than a slightly sturdier target.

Once I catch him, I'll naturally know whether he actually used that divine molt.

"Father Joseph." A Japanese exorcist in the Japanese concession finally couldn't hold back any longer. He bowed slightly and said in a low voice with a Japanese accent, "The reinforcements from the Inspection Bureau have arrived. If this drags on any longer, the people below may not be able to hold on."

"Your Excellency, shouldn't we ask the bishops to intervene?"

Joseph didn't turn around, but simply raised his hand slightly to stop him from speaking.

His gaze passed over the rain and landed on the three people by the window who had remained silent.

The three bishops stood side by side in the center of the window.

Henry, the bishop of the Westgate Church.

Bishop Maurice of the Church of the Sun.

Wilson, the president of the Truth Society.

From the moment they joined forces tonight, the real decision-making power has been in the hands of the three of them.

"Oh, my friend, don't be in such a hurry."

Bishop Henry spoke slowly in Chinese, with a distinctly Western accent, "It's not time to act yet."

The Onmyoji looked troubled. "Lord Henry, is it my man..."

"I told you, wait a little longer."

Henry waved his hand. "Patience is a virtue. Don't you Japanese think so?"

The Onmyoji's expression changed slightly, but he ultimately dared not contradict him and could only bow even lower: "Yes... Your reprimand is correct."

The candlelight by the window flickered slightly in the night breeze, casting the light and shadow on the face of the Onmyoji.

His name is Masanobu Takahashi. He is the assistant to the head of the Onmyōryō (Yin-Yang Bureau) in the Japanese Concession and is in charge of coordinating the deployment of the shikigami army tonight.

At this moment, he lowered his head, appearing submissive, but his hands in his sleeves were trembling slightly.

and many more.

hold on.

For the past quarter of an hour, these three bishops have been using only these two words.

He looked up and gazed out the window.

The situation in the streets and alleys downstairs has completely changed.

Initially, the battle between the two sides was evenly matched, but as reinforcements from other areas of the Bureau of Investigation arrived, the situation quickly devolved into a chaotic melee.

The scorching blood and qi, along with the demonic aura of the shikigami, exploded in the rain, accompanied by screams of agony.

Masanobu Takahashi's gaze swept across the battlefield, quickly calculating the casualty figures in his mind.

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Six high-ranking demon-level shikigami have already been lost; those are resources that cannot be regenerated.

There are countless other lower and middle-ranking demon spirits.

What about the Zhenyi Division?

Only a few ordinary inspectors died; the high-end combat capabilities were not damaged at all.

Takahashi gritted his teeth.

He is now facing a difficult choice.

If we keep waiting, the low-level shikigami below will only be completely exhausted.

But if we send out a high-level Onmyoji now...

He glanced discreetly at the three bishops beside him.

Henry was talking quietly with Maurice, both of them with relaxed smiles on their faces, as if the dead people downstairs were not human beings, but some insignificant ants.

They had no intention of making a move at all.

From the very beginning, these Westerners never intended to help them.

Their real goal was to wear down both themselves and the Zhenyi Division, so that they could clean up the mess once both sides were exhausted.

Well thought out.

Masanobu Takahashi took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

He turned to look behind him, where three high-ranking Onmyoji stood quietly in the shadows, awaiting his command.

At a single command, the three would leap out of the window and join the battle.

At that time, the balance of the battlefield will be completely broken.

Even if the three high-level Yin-Yang Masters couldn't kill Yue Changkong, they would be able to severely injure him.

However, this would immediately escalate the situation into a full-scale war.

With only the manpower from the Tianjin Concession, they could single-handedly confront the local tyrant...

Just as he was hesitating, a strange sound suddenly came from outside the window.

A low rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, approaching from afar, causing raindrops to fall from the windowpane.

Masanobu Takahashi looked up abruptly, his pupils suddenly contracting.

At the end of the rain curtain, a figure was walking through the air.

The man was tall and wore a long, dark robe, with lightning crackling around him.

With each step, a visible shockwave would erupt from the air beneath one's feet.

The raindrops were repelled by an invisible force three feet away from him, turning into a fine mist.

Lei Wanjun.

You arrived so quickly?

Takahashi's heart skipped a beat.

Before they could even react, the battlefield had already undergone a dramatic transformation.

Without pausing in mid-air, Lei Wanjun extended his right hand from his sleeve, his five fingers loosely clenched, and a dazzling bolt of lightning condensed in his palm, transforming into a lightning spear over ten feet long.

The lightning spear pierced through the air with earth-shattering power, precisely striking the head of the Yamata no Orochi in the center.

A piercing hiss exploded, and lightning spread wildly from the wound, shattering along the snake's neck and smashing the head to pieces.

The massive body of the Yamata no Orochi convulsed violently, and its remaining seven heads simultaneously emitted mournful cries. Its demonic aura dissipated, and its phantom image rapidly crumbled.

one strike.

Just one strike.

The ferocious beast projection that had suppressed Yue Changkong for a whole night was completely annihilated.

The entire battlefield fell silent instantly.

Whether it was the members of the inspection bureau or the Onmyoji of the Japanese concession, they all stopped what they were doing and stared blankly at the figure that had descended from the sky.

Just then, a rapid sound of horses' hooves came from the end of the street.

A black convoy sped along in the rain, the flags on the hoods fluttering in the wind and rain.

On both sides of the convoy, dozens of guards in black uniforms rode alongside, guns at their waists, their expressions stern.

A black sedan stopped at the edge of the battlefield, and a middle-aged man in a dark gray Zhongshan suit got out...