Infinite Gods Reign Supreme

Chapter 3: Local Scenery of Colorado
About fifteen minutes later, two police cars pulled up one after the other in front of the hospital. A group of fully armed police officers rushed into the hospital while providing cover for each other—there were no gunshots, no fighting. But just a few minutes later, several terrified newcomers were escorted out of the hospital by the police and shoved into police cars.

"waste."

Si Ming sat in a fast-food restaurant across from the hospital, stuffing a steaming hot hamburger and juice into his mouth. Having spent so long in this other world, what he missed most was the variety of food from Earth. And these high-calorie fast foods could also help him accumulate energy in the shortest amount of time.

He watched the police car drive away and shook his head slightly—at first, he thought these new recruits could at least handle such basic issues and persuade the police officers who came to investigate, at the very least delaying their operations in the hospital, which would improve the hospital's security to some extent.

Even taking hostages and holding a position on the upper floors of the hospital, keeping a firm grip on the evacuation helicopter, would have been better. But this group of five newcomers plus two veterans—and this is all they've accomplished?

Hopeless.

He ate the last bite of food.

Four new recruits were taken away by the police, including the bespectacled student who had explained the plot. It's hard to say whether they hadn't managed to escape or were seeking more comprehensive protection at the police station. Considering how much these new recruits valued their reward points and their negligible courage, it's safe to say that the police only needed to ask them a few questions to get them to reveal all their secrets.

But what good would that do? There were only six hours left to complete the main storyline, and no more than three hours left for the aliens to escape the sewers. Even in 07 America, or even in 25 China, it would be impossible to mobilize and deploy a professional suppression force in such a short time.

Perhaps this would tighten the blockade around the town. And was the nuclear bomb that fell from the sky in the early hours of the morning also larger in yield?
It doesn't matter.

Si Ming paid the bill—he was able to because he had rightfully spotted a pickpocket 'working' in this crowded place. Meanwhile, the short, white man who made his living on the side had already quietly slipped away from the alley near the fast-food restaurant when the police arrived, completely unaware that his loot had been stolen elsewhere.

He walked quite quickly.

Si Ming followed leisurely along the route he had taken once before.

Because when he took the money from the other person's pocket, he also left behind a wisp of dark fighting spirit as compensation. And before this wisp of fighting spirit dissipated, the path the pickpocket had taken, as well as his current location, were clearly visible in Si Ming's perception.

There are three ways to use fighting spirit—he discovered three of them.

First, one becomes an expert in internal energy cultivation, circulating it throughout the body. This leads to a significantly enhanced understanding of one's internal physical condition. Strength, stamina, and perception all improve dramatically.

Secondly, it manifests as an external aura, transforming into a dark, all-encompassing flame. This grants the user defensive capabilities equivalent to modern plate and chainmail, while also concealing their form, aura, heartbeat, and even their very presence. This power becomes increasingly pronounced as night approaches.

Thirdly, there's the ability to project battle aura outwards, using it as a ranged attack. It can also be used as a mark to lurk within specific objects—perhaps metal, perhaps flesh. The former can make weapons sharper and more agile, while the latter can leave a mark on living things for easy tracking. It can also be used to explode at the opportune moment.

The three methods don't conflict when used. However, the total amount of battle qi within him is ultimately limited. Focusing on one area will result in insufficient output in the other two directions.

Fortunately, he was physically fit enough.

Even without mobilizing his battle qi or amplifying himself, his strength and reaction time far surpassed those of the ordinary people here.

So let's move forward.

He walked through the dimly lit street and across the narrow alleys between buildings. A faint, sour stench began to waft through the air. Soon, a small gang hideout nestled under a bridge came into view before Si Ming.

Several people were gathered there, smoking, while the pickpocket was rummaging through his pockets and arguing loudly with them. The moment Si Ming stepped out of the shadows, the pickpocket naturally raised his finger and pointed it at Si Ming's face.

"That's him! This is the guy who just bumped into me and stole the money I finally got!"

It's not exactly wrong.

In 2007, American gangsters grinned maliciously, picked up steel pipes, crowbars, and pliers, and strode forward.

"My friend, you certainly got lost at the worst possible time—"

Si Ming raised the samurai sword in his hand.

The knife is very sturdy, and its material is not steel but some kind of lightweight, matte finish. It may have undergone monomolecular blade treatment, and it is undoubtedly a product of the Supreme God, guaranteeing its quality.

But it doesn't need to be used here—it doesn't need to be drawn; it just needs to be swung precisely as a club. The gang member at the front was hit first, struck in the abdomen, and crouched down in pain, clutching his stomach.

"Gulp—" He slumped to the ground.

Si Ming slightly shifted his body, dodging the second man's steel pipe strike. He moved forward, shifting his stance. The samurai sword in its sheath naturally thrust behind him, and the sound of breaking ribs was heard.

"Croak—" The second person fell to the ground, unable to get up.

The third person slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. Si Ming raised his foot and kicked the guy two meters away. His burly body slammed heavily against the wall with a dull thud.

"Ugh—" He opened his mouth and vomited out a large amount of alcohol, gastric juice, and some other sour, smelly, and scattered things that he couldn't identify.

The fourth person was the pickpocket. His raised hand, still extended, froze on the spot, along with his expression. "Misunderstanding... misunderstanding... ugh!" His face suddenly flushed red as Si Ming grabbed him by the neck and lifted him about half a meter off the spot. Raised high, then slammed down hard, followed by a bone crack and a scream.

Four people lay on the ground. The first person, who was the least injured, barely managed to lift his head, his face filled with fear and disbelief.

"Yes, it's KONGFU! China KONGKU!"

This is a characteristic of this era.

Si Ming turned around—when he looked over, the gangster clutching his stomach froze like a frog being stared at by a snake, clenching his teeth and holding his breath.

"I'm looking for a guy named Gary, white, around fifty years old, who owns a dog. Where is he?" — Gary is the first homeless man in the movie to be parasitized by an alien in the sewers. The crucial question now is: in which area is the sewer he's in?

The local gangsters could obviously help Siming solve this problem.

“Gary the homeless! I know where he lives! He lives in the sewers, he lives with several other homeless people in the sewers outside the old waterworks!”

"Very good." Si Ming nodded slightly. "Take me with you—"

He didn't finish speaking.

He suddenly slid backward, his longsword already drawn from its sheath. Because he could see and hear clearly. And the moment the longsword struck, the second man, who had barely managed to get up and was about to pull his pistol from his pocket, didn't even have time to touch the trigger!
'Swoosh—' The dark blade swept past in a flash.

The pistol and the hand that was about to grab it fell to the ground together.

The gangster with the severed hand screamed like a pig being slaughtered, then received another powerful kick from Si Ming. His entire jaw was shattered, and he lost consciousness.

"Run!" the lightest-wounded gangster screamed, trying to escape. But the shout immediately turned into a whimpering gasp. As Siming hurled the drawn katana forward, it pierced his flesh and lungs like gauze, pinning him to the wall.

He was convulsing, perhaps about to die. The two remaining conscious gangsters were also trembling, not daring to utter a single groan.

“I made a mistake.” Si Ming stepped forward and pulled a light, black samurai longsword from the dying thug. The blade was smooth and clean, without a single drop of blood. “I thought I had returned to a place where I could communicate, and that everyone I encountered would be someone I could talk to. Unless someone was under mortal threat, there was always a chance to save their life.”

"But now it seems that there isn't much difference between here and there."

The initial plan had some flaws. Going down into the sewers now, they might encounter the most powerful Predator Xenomorph there. Fighting an unknown opponent with overwhelming numbers seems unwise. And—

Si Ming took out the Sharingan with the one tomoe that he had removed.

He aimed his eyes at the two people who were trembling even more violently. A slight amount of dark battle aura was injected into his eyes. The next moment, the tomoe-like pupils that had begun to expand contracted again and began to rotate. He also sensed that the material of his eyeballs was being damaged.

The amount lost was approximately one-tenth. From those jade-like eyes, an invisible radiance was released as the battle aura activated. It struck the remaining two, who immediately let out a sharp scream. Their faces and eyes turned pale, a foul stench emanated from their trousers, and then they convulsed, gasping for breath.

They are dead.

Died from one's own fear.

The basic ability of the one-tomoe Sharingan is indeed fear genjutsu, and it can be forcibly activated by relying on the fighting spirit of night. After all, it is a creation of the main god, and its main feature is its versatility.

This card is somewhat useful.

Si Ming's gaze immediately shifted.

He saw a manhole cover on the ground next to the bridge arch. And among these gangsters, one of them happened to have been wielding a crowbar that looked like it was used frequently.

well.

"Spare...spare me..." The dying thug, pierced by a knife, gasped for breath. "Don't kill me...I'm still useful..."

“I really won’t kill you.” Si Ming picked up a crowbar and lifted the manhole cover. Underneath the manhole cover, as expected, were the spaces and traces of these gangsters’ lives.

“You are still useful.” He put down the manhole cover and dragged up the corpse and the futures corpse.

The Xenomorphs need flesh and blood, and large living organisms to parasitize. They hide in these sewers, playing hide-and-seek with the Predators while taking the opportunity to expand their population. Until the time is right, they will avoid directly revealing themselves in human society.

They are hunters, natural hunters. But natural hunters are also beasts.

Fortunately, there are raw materials here that can be used to make a lure trap.

(End of this chapter)