Cthulhu America, I can see the kill line.

Lower Town, Purple Mang Church.

The church is burning.

The rose windows of stained glass distorted in the heat, the faces of saints flowed down like melting wax tears, flames burst from every Gothic pointed arch, and the shadows of the flying buttresses stretched long and erratic, swaying wildly in the billowing black smoke.

This realm, already rife with evil, was finally devoured and purified by merciless flames.

A hot wind swept by, and a purple fissure opened up beside the sea of ​​fire.

An Eastern youth stepped out.

The rift behind him suddenly closed, and before the unique aura of the warp could dissipate, it was swallowed up by the acrid smell of the church.

He was wearing a trench coat with a few bullet holes, his left hand in his pocket, his right hand hanging at his side, a beretta loosely dangling from his fingers.

He specially went home to change it. It only took him a few thoughts to go home from the Squichna Cave and then teleport back to the Lower City. However, he preferred the feeling of walking on foot, at least that wouldn't be called a miracle by some fanatical believers.

"Enemy attack!"

The shouts came from behind the collapsed half of the choir platform.

Kong Jiu turned his head and saw three silhouettes emerge from the thick smoke.

Power armor.

The milky-white ceramic armor plates gleamed with an ominous warm light in the firelight, and the shoulder armor was etched with emblems of vortexes and skulls. The low hum of the joint servo mechanism sounded like the breath of some kind of behemoth.

The thug at the front was holding an exaggeratedly large long gun in one hand, and a huge gravity generator below the muzzle was emitting a ghostly blue light.

The gravity gun, a weapon whose working principle Kong Jiu could never understand, finally had the opportunity to be aimed at him.

The other two were carrying explosive guns, the kind that fire bullets no less powerful than hand grenades, capable of turning an adult's chest into a bloody mist.

The veterans of the Great Vortex Battle Clan, who had been enhanced by various agents, finally revealed their true colors in front of Kong Jiu.

"Murder?"

Kong Jiu asked himself this question.

"What's there to be bothered about with these scumbags?"

Also.

These people have more lives on their hands than Kong Jiu collected corpses.

Conjur convinced himself of his excessive kindness and picked up the Beretta that old Chad had given him.

The first thug laughed, a muffled chuckle emanating from beneath the power armor visor.

pistol?

At this distance, with a toy that has a diameter of less than nine millimeters?

How to deal with my own terracotta power armor?

Amidst the mockery, he pulled the trigger of the gravity gun.

A ghostly blue light condensed at the muzzle of the gun, and the ground within three meters of Kong Jiu suddenly sank down.

The stone slab shattered, and the rubble clung tightly to the ground under ten times the force of gravity, even compressing the flames into a flat layer.

But Kong Jiu was no longer there.

The control of time accelerated Kong Jiu's time.

His body moved two meters to the side at an illogical speed.

The hem of the trench coat swung in an arc due to inertia.

Next, swing your arm.

The Beretta rang.

The moment the bullet left the muzzle, psychic energy enveloped it.

The 9mm bullet burst from the muzzle under the enhanced dynamic vision of the soldier.

Whether you call it underestimating the enemy or overconfidence, these veterans stood still, not even bothering to dodge.

Even if a gun of this caliber hits you squarely in the forehead, it won't splatter much blood.

What's more, they're wearing this terracotta power armor?

But the bullet left an afterimage in the air that was almost invisible to the naked eye.

The flight path suddenly took a sharp turn, slipping through the seam between the Gravity Gun gang member's mask and neck armor.

Blood gushed out from the cracks.

The veteran let out a sharp whistle.

His heavy body leaned back, staggered a few steps, and crashed into the sea of ​​fire.

A pistol, with just one shot, pierced through his defenses.

The other two thugs immediately sensed something was wrong.

Without discussing it, the two explosive guns opened fire simultaneously.

The large-caliber explosive shells spin within the rifling, each carrying a miniature rocket booster that delays the explosion upon impact.

Very quickly, extremely quickly.

These propelled munitions arrived in front of him almost the instant they were fired.

Kong Jiu's pupils contracted slightly.

His blood boiled within him, as if an invisible snake was swimming through his veins.

The first explosive grazed his left shoulder, and blood and flesh splattered everywhere.

Blood splattered out.

But Kong Jiu did not frown. The muscles at the wound began to twitch, the blood vessels reconnected on their own, and the skin grew at a speed visible to the naked eye.

But the blood, drawing a crimson arc in the air, slid down the soldiers' faces and into their bodies.

Almost at the same time that Kong Jiu was wounded, the two thugs screamed in pain.

Kong Jiu's right hand clenched slightly, as if he were grasping something unseen.

The first thug's right arm was twisted in the opposite direction of the joint, with the humerus piercing the skin from the elbow, and fascia still hanging on the white bone fragments.

The second thug's legs were torn apart from the inside by his own blood, and large amounts of blood gushed from the joints of his power armor. He fell to his knees, his limbs below the knees turned into an unrecognizable mass of flesh.

They screamed, still trying to get up, until the Beretta sounded twice more.

Kong Jiu lowered his gun, stretched his shoulders, and his bones made a soft clicking sound.

"It seems that although that shot just now tore me to shreds, it also dislocated some of my bones."

Just as he was thinking this, suddenly there was a loud bang, and a section of the church's main dome collapsed.

Burning rocks struck him less than five meters behind, sparks landing on the hem of his trench coat, which he casually swatted out.

Flames raged around him, and thick smoke choked people so much they couldn't open their eyes.

But Kongjiu's breathing remained steady, like someone taking a walk in their own backyard.

How many people are left?

The blue light of the gravity gun flickered among the broken walls and ruins, the roar of the explosive shells hurt people's eardrums, and the servo motors of the power armor merged into a low hum.

again and again.

The timing control accelerated the movement, allowing Kong Jiu to weave through a hail of bullets.

Beretta raised her head again and again, the bullets, guided by her telekinesis, traced completely illogical trajectories, bypassing marble pillars, passing through window frames no wider than a fist, entering from the front but striking the back of the head from the side.

However, he still took quite a few hits.

Blood flows through the body, repairing broken organs and reconnecting fractured bones.

The trench coat was riddled with holes, and the exposed skin was covered with new pink scars.

Kong Jiu was slightly out of breath as he looked at the corpses falling one by one in the sea of ​​fire. Suddenly, his expression froze.

He looked up and activated his spiritual vision.

missile?

The last shot of the four?

The tail flames left a bright arc in the night sky, aimed at the collapsing Gothic building.

By simply dividing the perceived speed by the distance, Kong Jiu concluded that the hit was expected to occur in five seconds.

He raised his left hand.

The power of thought surged forth from his body, overwhelming everything, like an invisible giant hand spreading out in the void.

The missile's speed suddenly slowed down in that instant, as if it were passing through an invisible layer of glue.

"Damn it, Farah didn't teach me how to intercept, so I have to resort to brute force!"

The outer skin of the warhead began to wrinkle, and metal fatigue cracks spread like a spider web. The tail flame flattened under the suppression of psychic power and then went out.

The missile, fifty meters above the Confucius Church, was crushed into a dud and hovered in mid-air.

The burning church was the backdrop, the thick smoke the curtain; the messenger of death trembled in vain, like a venomous snake being strangled.

With a thought, Kong Jiu launched his mental energy into the sky.

The explosion unfolded, the shockwave lifting Kong Jiu's trench coat, and flames bloomed like a red flower in the sky.

The thick smoke from the fire was dispersed considerably by the shockwave.

"Honestly, if you had come directly to see me, your men might not have died."

A figure slowly walked in from outside the main gate. Kong Jiu kept looking at the sky and didn't even glance at the figure.

The man wore the same power suits as the other gang members, but the armor plates were more elaborately decorated, with gold trim even inlaid on his shoulder armor.

He wasn't wearing a helmet; his short, gray hair was plastered to his temples; a quaint gravity pistol hung at his waist; and he carried a power sword that was still dripping blood in his left hand.

He stopped about twenty meters away from Kong Jiu.

Flames leaped between them, thick smoke billowed overhead, and burning rubble occasionally crashed down from the collapsing dome.

"Windart, perhaps letting you go yesterday was a mistake."

Kong Jiu shook his head slightly, pointed the Beretta gun at the man, his eyes still as stagnant as ever.

The leader of the Great Vortex, the Heartless One, a veteran sworn to avenge Amerigo, Wendart Erebus, smirked slightly.

"You killed many people." His gaze swept over his men burning in the flames, "with a toy gun."

Kong Jiu pulled the trigger.

Propelled by telekinesis, the bullet tore through the air and shot straight toward Windat's forehead.

Then, it abruptly stopped about thirty centimeters from his face.

The air around Windat began to distort.

"Do you like it? Anti-psympowered armor."

Windat brandished his sword, a hint of arrogance in his eyes: "Purdue Pharma is delighted by Farah's death; they've given me even more equipment."

"This time, perhaps it won't be you who lets me off the hook? Doctor Kong."