I impersonated God in America

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Like a Shadow

Near the Brooklyn Bridge, New York.

Wen Ban was holding his phone, leaning his back against the railing at the head of the bridge.

While chatting with the chat, he glanced at the number of viewers in the live stream and sighed inwardly.

When people reach the top of the mountain and then return to the foot of the mountain, they always feel a sense of loss.

Perhaps the live stream from Sardinia will be the pinnacle he never reaches in his lifetime.

"Brothers, I'm back in America from Europe. Today I'll show you the night view of Brunswick."

A few comments scrolled by.

Why isn't the streamer staying in Sardinia anymore?

"I'm not afraid to tell you this, but I still have nightmares about what happened that day."

You have to understand that he was truly petrified that day. If it weren't for the appearance of that saint, he would have said goodbye to his life.

Perhaps misfortune may be a blessing in disguise, and a blessing may be a misfortune in disguise.

Although he was unfollowed by a lot of people after leaving Italy.

However, thanks to the benefits of his previous risky livestreaming experience, the fans he retained are enough to ensure a comfortable life for the rest of his days.

I can only say I was lucky and seized that opportunity.

But his live-streaming career is probably over.

The upward trend is over.

He cleared his throat.

"Actually, I found that American live streaming content is not bad either, it's just not as niche."

The reason is that America has virtually no myths or legends.

If monsters are all things that once appeared in mythology.

Is there any place safer than America?

Regarding the arrangements for this trip...

Before he could finish speaking, a terrifying loud noise suddenly came from behind him.

The live chat exploded instantly.

It seems like wherever this streamer goes, trouble follows.

There are cows!!

Wen Ban's hand trembled slightly, a sense of foreboding creeping into his heart.

"impossible."

He turned the camera towards the source of the sound.

Suddenly, a pair of bull horns emerged from the middle of a brick wall.

Rumble!

Then the Minotaur's figure came into full view.

In the Brooklyn direction, rows of factory buildings were being hurled upwards one after another, as if by artillery shells.

[It looks like something is flying in the sky!]

Then he saw nearly a hundred extremely thin lines weaving through the air between the street shadows and the firelight.

The line shoots from a rooftop toward the facade of an adjacent building, then tapers.

A human-shaped silhouette successfully floated between buildings via silk threads, and then arrived at its next landing point.

！？强强？！

The minotaur not far away slammed bricks and stones at the tiny figure as if swatting flies.

But precisely because of this, the monster was drawn to the tiny figure, giving a large number of citizens nearby time to scatter.

What?!

[Mann's Failure!]

The comments section was scrolling wildly.

Wenban stared at the screen, and couldn't help but utter only one sentence.

"The extraordinary world of the ditch is still chasing me."

Moreover, the guy floating in the air was also a superhuman.

Is he restraining the Minotaur?

His first thought now is whether or not to run away as soon as possible.

Last time, he was just lucky to encounter that saint who used his power to save him from petrification.

This time, we might not be so lucky.

I've already made enough money.

That was his original plan.

Everyone, run!

The figure who kept the minotaur in check for the sake of the citizens seemed to be saying something that moved Wenban, who wanted to leave.

This is the last time!

"Hey guys, this is reporter Wen Ban reporting for you..."

He kept the camera glued to that figure.

[This damn America isn't safe at all? Now I'm thinking Italy might not be so bad; at least there's a church there.]

Furthermore, according to the crater theory, the probability of a shell hitting the same crater again is extremely low.

I'm leaving for Italy tomorrow!

------------

Between the buildings in the sky, a strange man is using silk threads to travel through the city.

Not far behind, a nearly ten-meter-long bull-headed beast rolled down the street and caught up, each step causing the alarms of abandoned vehicles on the roadside to scream wildly.

Military Apache attack helicopters circled in.

The M230 cannon fired a series of sparks at the Minotaur's shoulder.

The Hellfire missile, trailing white smoke, struck its shoulder, neck, and chest, and the explosions engulfed the entire block.

Inside the command vehicle.

Colonel Neville's palms were sweaty.

On the tablet screen, the Minotaur had a nearly half-meter hole in its shoulder from a Hellfire missile, its fur charred and its dark gray muscles exposed.

But it didn't stop!

The muscle fibers around the hole near the heart are contracting in a staggered pattern, pushing the shrapnel out of the wound.

"Its flesh density increases in tandem with its size. Armor-piercing bullets could still penetrate its two-meter form before, but now every muscle layer in every area of ​​this guy has thickened!"

"Keep bombarding! Don't give the wound time to heal! Keep your eyes glued to the same wound!"

The barrage of bullets was concentrated on the gash on the right shoulder caused by the Hellfire.

Dark green blood mist finally oozed thickly from the depths of the wound, staining the crushed concrete beneath its feet black.

Then, with the first three machine guns locking onto it, its right arm was blown off from the shoulder down.

A massive arm, nearly several meters long, with its muscles and bony protrusions, was torn off from the shoulder socket.

"It's broken! Its arm was blasted off!"

The assistant abruptly ripped off his headphones and slammed them on the control panel, an excited expression still on his face.

Inside the command vehicle, some people started patting each other on the shoulder, some leaned back, some put their fanny packs aside, and some blew a strong breath out of their lips.

"This guy is finally showing signs of collapsing."

"At least this time no one will be competing with us for the spoils, right?"

"Hey guys, where should we go to celebrate tonight?"

Then the assistant looked up and continued to watch the one-armed giant bull out of the corner of his eye through the screen.

"Something's wrong! Look up there!"

The Minotaur used its left hand to lift its entire right arm from the rubble.

It held the severed arm next to the tear in its right shoulder.

Hiss!

The moment the severed arm came into contact with the lacerated wound, countless granulation tissues began to sway outwards.

It seemed as if they were attracted.

hiss.

With the granulation tissue coming into contact with and twisting together, the severed arm was reattached.

Everyone in the command vehicle had their words stuck in their throats.

The sheer numerical values ​​displayed before them silenced any words of celebration they might have wanted to utter.

thump!

Colonel Neville sat up instantly, his chair tipping over onto the floor.

"F*** you! This is getting more and more outrageous!"

"Can this still be put back together?"

Chapter Thirty-Eight Thunderbird

Pentagon, Special Affairs Bureau emergency conference room, 3 a.m.

James flipped through the encrypted briefing in front of him, his brow furrowing more and more.

"A low-level demon? How could it possibly have such exaggerated behavior?"

"Has the information about the other masked man been verified?"

"All I know is that the other party was previously known online as a street vigilante who liked to strike gang members at night."

"But now it can be basically confirmed that the other party is an extraordinary individual. In addition, his conversation with another demon at the scene is also very intriguing. After all, it is obvious that the other demon initially regarded him as an ally."

The assistant pushed the report of the recording onto the table.

Intermediate Spider Demon. Asmodeus. Son of Baal.

James placed his hand on the comparison picture.

"A lower-level demon was granted some kind of power that allowed it to withstand our overwhelming firepower? And then that thing could even reattach its severed arm?"

"What terrifying physical strength and regenerative ability."

He paused for a moment.

"If this is the lower level, then what will we use to fight when the demon that grants power to the other party appears next?"

"We can't just keep bombing the city all the time, can we?"

No one responded.

James recalled the assurances he had given to the president in the White House Situation Room a few weeks earlier.

The Special Affairs Bureau is already developing specialized weapons to target supernatural beings!

The Sardinian experience can be replicated; the United States won't need the Church to clean up its mess like Italy did!

Monsters of this level might be a bit tricky...