American comics: Praising the sun, starting from Gotham!

The Batmobile's canopy slid open silently through the mist of Gotham's West Side.

The rain has stopped.

"Why don't you go see the penguin man? His family specimens must be quite chewy."

While checking the visitation route to Blackgate Prison on the car's computer, Bruce asked the young man next to him who was frantically hinting that he wanted to get out of the car.

"No need, boss."

Xiu En jumped out of the car, his trench coat kicking up a cloud of golden dust. He patted his still nauseous chest in disgust.

"I didn't actually grow up eating scrap metal. That meal I just had is enough to keep me digesting for half a month. Besides, I sensed... um, a strange kind of passion."

It felt like a hundred burly men were calling your name in your head; it was impossible to ignore.

"Don't make too much noise. Gordon's busy enough for tonight."

With a flash of exhaust, the Batmobile disappeared at the end of the street.

Xiuen straightened his collar and looked at the abandoned basketball court in the distance, which faintly exuded a frenzied atmosphere.

It was less like a church and more like a live version of a Spartan training camp, or a backstage fan meeting for some heavy metal rock band.

Before even stepping into the abandoned sports field surrounded by barbed wire, Xiu En heard a deafening roar:

"Feel it! This is the will of God! Hardness is truth! Muscles are armor!"

Through the tattered barbed wire, Xiu En saw a scene that made his eyes twitch.

Joestar.

The idiot who had awakened his spiritual vision was shirtless, his strong muscles, nourished by divine power, now covered in some kind of industrial grease, reflecting a shiny light under the dim streetlights.

He was holding the cement utility pole, which he had somehow managed to remove from somewhere, with one hand in a strangely powerful posture.

Before him knelt more than twenty men, dressed in rags but with eyes that gleamed like wolves, including several disabled men with missing limbs.

"Light is not gentle! Light is a cruel blazing sun! It not only illuminates the darkness, but also, like the telephone pole in my hand, shatters all weakness!"

Joestar swung the telephone pole overhead with a sudden gust of wind.

"God doesn't save cowards who only know how to cry! God only favors warriors who dare to fight back against fate! Tell me, if someone points a gun at you, what will you do?"

The believers below roared in unison, their voices as synchronized as if they had rehearsed a hundred times: "Smash his head! Then swallow the gun! Praise be to our Lord for His grace!"

Just as Xiu En was preparing to make a cool entrance by jumping off the wall, he slipped and almost fell into the crowd.

He leaned against the wall, staring in shock at the group of fanatics.

Is this some kind of "Gun-Eating God Cult"? Isn't this cult's doctrine a bit too one-sided? I don't need a bunch of future gourmet connoisseurs; I need a group of giant batteries to fuel my faith!

Just as Joestar was about to demonstrate the so-called White Emperor Breathing Technique to everyone, Shu En felt that he couldn't let this idiot lead the way any further.

Then, a golden light suddenly appeared.

Xiu En immediately turned his power up to the medium setting.

The artificial miniature sun dispelled the darkness within a hundred meters, illuminating the entire dilapidated basketball court as if it were daytime.

Everyone felt warm all over, as if they were soaking in hot milk, and the old scars began to itch—a sign that they were about to heal.

"While I have reservations about the part about eating guns, the spirit is commendable."

Shuen, stepping on golden light, slowly floated down in front of Joestar and pressed a finger against the still-waving telephone pole.

This is not a light press at all.

Using a finger as the point of contact, the entire utility pole instantly turned red and softened.

"But Father Joestar... could you please not apply so much oil before your next sermon? I have my pride too."

The room fell silent for a moment.

Then came even more frenzied roars and worship.

The white phantom behind Joestar seemed to solidify instantly, revealing a face that was equally expressionless but with even more exaggerated muscles.

He dropped the softened telephone pole, slid down to his knees in front of Xiu En, tears streaming down his face:

"Yes, Lord! This is a trial! It's to make us as honest as infants facing steel!!"

"That's not what I meant... Never mind."

Xiu En felt a surge in Pure Faith Points within his body, which even dispelled the indigestion caused by the inferior firearms. He helplessly covered his face.

These people's brains have definitely been swayed by the metal element; it seems the people of Gotham are really too simple and honest.

Xiu En took him back to the orphanage.

He had one hand in his trench coat pocket, and the other hand pointed somewhat helplessly at the gate of the orphanage in front of him.

Behind him, Joestar, who was 1.9 meters tall and covered in oil that reflected light even in the dark, clung to the sidewalk tiles like a vampire who had seen a cross, refusing to move an inch forward.

"You won't eat dinner, and you won't sleep in the bed that, while hard, at least doesn't let in any draft."

Xiu En tilted his head, his hair, which was shiny from overload, fluttering freely in the wind.

"Why do you have to put on performance art on someone else's basketball court? Did that white muscle stand-in finally squeeze your brain out of shape?"

"Lord! That is your holy resting place!"

Joestar remained in the absurd position of kneeling and bending backward, his expression solemn as if he were about to die a heroic death, even trying to prevent his sweat from dripping onto the holy steps leading to the gate.

"Your pure, sunrise-like aura filled that building! And me!"

He suddenly slapped his smooth chest muscles.

"I am but a crude vessel in this mortal world, filled with filth and waste oil! How dare I defile that sacred threshold with my mundane footprints! Even just approaching it would be an affront to the radiance—Alas!"

Even just getting close would result in being whipped hard on the buttocks by a thorny vine as thick as a wrist.

A dark green thorn sprouted from the ground and hit a home run, sending the 1.9-meter-tall man flying like a bowling pin across the street to a trash can that read "No Hazardous Waste."

The window on the second floor of the welfare home was suddenly pushed open.

Countless green leaves writhed around it like an angry swarm of snakes.

"You know you're full of waste engine oil!?"

Pamela Ivy's voice was almost squeezed out through clenched teeth; her anger seemed to have been brewing for a long time, even more so than that of Hugh.

"This is the pure land I painstakingly purified! If I smell that damn lubricant again, I'll shove you into the mouth of that special carnivorous plant used to degrade plastic! Immediately! Right now! Take that twisted, garbage-like concrete pillar away from the front door!"

Shuen turned around and saw the telephone pole being pushed out with disdain by two smaller vines, clearly the one Joestar had tried to shove in as a tribute.

"Okay, I know why you're too scared to go in, buddy."

Shuen shrugged, looking at Joestar, who was still in an odd pose next to the trash can but was not injured.

"This is simply a matter of failing the hygiene assessment."

At that moment, a small head peeked out from the crack in the door that Joestar feared.

Jenny blinked twice in her eyes, which always seemed to see strange things. Her gaze bypassed Joestar himself, who was trying to turn the trash can into a holy throne, and instead focused on the air behind him.

"Brother Xiuen, why is that tall, bald uncle always so dirty...?"

Jenny quietly tugged at the still relatively clean half of Shuen's clothes, then pointed to the void behind Joestar.

"But that white, stronger shadow uncle following behind the naked uncle looks so clean, like he was drawn with correction fluid."

She tilted her head, seemingly not understanding.

"Because he's a pervert, children shouldn't learn from him!"

No matter what, the door can't be opened.

At least until Ivy's anger subsides or Joestar's grease is scraped off.

"Fine, you can just be a gatekeeper sculpture at the entrance."

Xiu En sighed, waved his hand, and unleashed a golden beam of light that reshaped the disliked, twisted utility pole into a peculiar shape that seemed to be embracing the sun. He then planted it in the corner of the flowerbed.

"This is your base."

"Keep an eye on this door. If one day you see any of those weaker-looking but more capable of blowing things up come to bother us... um, I mean Lincoln or the remnants of Black Mask, remember to whip them like you're whipping a telephone pole. And wipe that damn oil off you!"