Standing on the shattered pedestal, Hashimoto Yoma casually tossed the heavy statue fragment with one hand, each throw creating a dull whooshing sound, as if it wasn't rock but an ordinary rubber ball.
His muscles, illuminated by the firelight, gleamed with a metallic luster, and the phantom of Hermes pulsed in sync with him; each tap of the staff seemed to make the surrounding air thicker, filled with whispers of lies and twisted reality.
"Not enough... still not enough, Rohan!"
He roared at the empty ruins, his voice full of the anxiety of unfulfilled destructiveness, "Do you only know how to hide and send your pawns to their deaths? If you won't come, then I'll come find you!"
He suddenly threw the statue fragment high into the air, and as it reached its apex, he shot into the sky like a cannonball, delivering a furious spinning kick to the fragment!
Boom—!!!
The fragment exploded in mid-air into countless tiny stone particles, falling to the ground like a large grey snowdrift.
Hashimoto Yoma landed back on the ground, licking the corner of his mouth, the madness in his golden pupils burning even brighter, the dopamine furiously secreting within him making him increasingly euphoric.
"These trash... don't deserve to exist."
He decided he would hunt down Kishibe Rohan, and where was Kishibe Rohan now? He must be at that damned shrine; he was going to kill him!
But before that, he needed to deal with this Town first; he wanted to destroy this Town, the current cancer of manga, and clear away all these damned old symbols.
He walked through the streets and alleys of the Town; the local police had already been completely wiped out by him, and the Self-Defense Forces dispatched from other areas to suppress him were easily slaughtered. Now, the only significant threat should be the American military base near the Town.
But they hadn't arrived yet, so he would deal with the Town first.
His fingers were like the most precise carving knives, moving at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, gliding across signs and posters. Hard wood, metal, and plastic were like tofu under his fingertips, easily cut and reshaped.
A majestic propaganda poster of Kishibe Rohan was transformed by a few strokes into an image of himself, rippling with muscles and striking a bodybuilder's pose.
The sign of a "Discipline Learning Center" was changed by him to "Muscle Worship Temple," the lettering crooked but full of power, and inside, he filled it with statues of Hermes and himself.
He even casually grabbed a lucky passerby, tore his clothes, and then "drew" a crude but dynamic image of himself running on his body with his fingers!
"This is art! The art of muscle! The art of power!" He laughed maniacally, then released the lucky passerby, watching him sprint down the road.
"Spread it! Tell everyone what true beauty is! Oh, by the way, your running posture has a lot of flaws. Let me correct it for you. You're welcome."
Then, after a series of creaking operations, the passerby was moved to tears and ran even faster.
Hermes's divine authority of "lies" came into play at this moment, possessing power similar to Heaven's Door.
The distorted images and cognitions of those signs he violently "reformed" and the people forced to receive "tattoos" actually began to subtly influence those around them who witnessed it all.
But Hashimoto Yoma didn't care. After the transformation was complete, he left the Town. He first rushed to the American military base and strangely found that no one was there; the US troops stationed there had fled at some unknown time.
Since that was the case, Hashimoto Yoma had only one goal left: "Hahahahahahaha, here I come, Kishibe Rohan! I will take everything from you, just as you took everything from me!"
Hashimoto Yoma had already arrived at the former millionaire's village, which was now heavily guarded. It was not only the residence of the wealthy but also the front line guarding Prime Minister Kishibe Rohan.
And on the mountain, where the mountain shrine was located, it stood unyielding, like a silent taunt.
"Ah... I understand."
Hashimoto Yoma's face revealed a twisted smile of sudden realization, "You're there, right? Like an old turtle hiding in its shell, thinking that if you hide on the mountain, I can't do anything to you?"
The former millionaire's village was now unrecognizable, with towering, manga-exaggerated defensive fortifications replacing elegant fences.
Heavy weapons were mounted on watchtowers, and the patrolling guards were no longer ordinary security but deeply brainwashed elite troops with fanatical eyes, moving with terrifying precision and aura.
They wore special uniforms, emblazoned with the symbols of pink dark boy and the silhouette of Kishibe Rohan, clearly for guarding the "sacred area" leading to the shrine.
"Heh... changed to a new group of guard dogs?" Hashimoto Yoma sneered, twisting his neck with a crisp crack, "They look sturdier than the trash in Town. Perfect... I can use them to test a new 'training' method!"
He had no intention of hiding, swaggering towards the heavily guarded entrance.
"Stop! Intruder!"
The guard on the watchtower issued a sharp warning, and spotlights instantly locked onto him, several red laser dots jumping on his chest and forehead.
"One more step, and you'll be killed on sight!"
"Wait, that face... He's a wanted man specifically mentioned by the Prime Minister! Take him down!"
But Hashimoto Yoma seemed not to hear, instead quickening his pace, a smile on his lips that gradually turned manic, going from walking to a jog, then to a full sprint!
"Fire!"
Instantly, machine guns spat fire, and bullets swept in like a metal storm! Even rockets, trailing exhaust, whistled towards his position!
Facing firepower capable of tearing apart armored vehicles, Hashimoto Yoma's smile grew even more deranged, his veins bulging, muscles constantly expanding.
He chose not to completely dodge, but rather combined Hermes's divine speed with his own muscular strength to the extreme.
His body transformed into a distorted golden streak in the barrage, not dodging in a straight line, but in a bizarre pose like a bodybuilder displaying muscles, narrowly avoiding bullets at the last second!
Sometimes he would even actively "collide" with bullets aimed at non-vital areas with his bulging biceps or firm pectorals, making "clinking" sounds, sparks flying, and then deflecting those bullets as ricochets back at his enemies.
"Too slow! Too soft!"
He roared, charging through the hail of bullets, his skin becoming smoother and shinier, as if coated in oil, "Your weapons aren't even fit to polish my muscles!"
Just then, a rocket flew towards him. Instead of retreating, he leaped up, his right leg raised high like a battle-axe, then, with a shriek that tore through the air, he slammed his heel hard onto the rocket's warhead!
Boom!!!
The rocket exploded in mid-air, a huge fireball rising!
...There are probably 10 more chapters until Section 1 is finished [facepalm]. I originally wanted to finish Jo4 within 100 chapters [facepalm].
Next, I'll write Part 2. Hmm, I could also write Part 7 first [facepalm]. I'd like to ask readers if they have any opinions. If you want to see Part 2 first, comment '2'. If you want to see Part 7 first, comment '7'.
For Part 2, it will be Mechanical Vampire Germany vs. Stand User Soviet Union. The protagonist will only retain the basic 'Kill the Emperor' configuration, but will carry the Third Bomb and the ability to erase time.
For Part 7, the protagonist will go back in time to steal the Saint's Corpse, challenging heroes from all sides [facepalm]. However, his abilities will have to be nerfed; he can't bring the Third Bomb, but he can bring Epitaph and Time Erase, as well as an enhanced Second Bomb.
After all, when I think of the Stands in Part 7, I just want to laugh [facepalm]. If he brought the Third Bomb, what would be the point of playing?
...Hmm, please wait a moment. Today's update is at 6 o'clock. I need to prepare for the next section. Based on the current decision, I plan to write Part 2 first.