Inside a resplendent four-story building in the Japanese Concession, the atmosphere stood in stark contrast to the slaughter unfolding in the rainy night outside.
The spacious hall was brightly lit with candles, and several rows of tall windows stood wide open. The shouts of battle from the streets below drifted faintly inside, yet they did nothing to disturb the composure of those in the room.
Standing by the windows were more than a dozen Western church members clad in different styles of divine robes, along with several high-ranking onmyoji from the Japanese Concession.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, their gazes uniformly directed at the battlefield below. There was no hostility on their faces—only the leisurely air of spectators watching a show.
Xikai Church and the Sun Church had always been like fire and water, openly and covertly battling one another in Tianjin for decades. Yet at this moment, priests and bishops from both sides stood together, occasionally exchanging a few quiet words.
Joseph, who had only recently returned to Jin City from America, stood in the front row. He wore a black divine robe, and the spider statue on his chest gleamed faintly in the candlelight.
He had seen the little interlude in that chaotic battle just now with perfect clarity.
Despicable scoundrel.
He clearly possessed a body of bronze skin and iron bones, yet insisted on pretending his cultivation was weak.
He had seen this sort of trick—playing the pig to eat the tiger—far too often.
Still, that man's physical body truly was formidable.
Surrounded and attacked by more than a dozen shikigami, he had actually managed to retreat unscathed, without even breaking a single bone.
Could it be because of the Divine Molt?
Joseph weighed the matter silently, then gently shook his head.
His skin was merely a