The young man from the Special Affairs Bureau and Priest Yoshida were obviously up to something behind his back.
Shen Le knew without even turning around. And even if he did not, the Little Oil Lamp, happily cleaning up the mess, kept tattling in his ear:
[That priest is messaging someone.]
[He's talking about you.]
[He's asking for guidance—]
[When the Japanese say they're asking for guidance, does that mean they're calling in a bigger shot to beat you up?]
Shen Le calmly shrugged. The Little Oil Lamp did not understand Japanese, much like him; it could basically only guess at the meaning from the scrambled Chinese characters.
Still, he was not particularly afraid of this so-called "bigger shot." What kind of bigger shot could they possibly bring in?
What kind of bigger shot could the Japanese possibly summon to fight him?
Amaterasu Omikami?
Susanoo-no-Mikoto?
Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto?
Or that Yamata no Orochi?
Or perhaps they would summon the Yellow Springs to devour him?
Leaving aside whether they had the nerve to make a move against an Eastern citizen who had come through proper channels, accompanied at all times by personnel from the Special Affairs Bureau—even if they did...
He was no longer the Shen Le from a month ago. He was a brand-new Shen Le, able to fight, able to run, with his mobility maxed out!
If it really came down to it, all he needed was a little time to teleport home!
He strolled toward the warehouse with lazy, unhurried steps. From this warehouse, it was indeed clear that—
Most of the items inside were offerings from local residents:
Dust-covered carp streamers, dust-covered teru teru bozu dolls, dust-covered hina dolls, Dust-covered Lucky Cats...
They were all objects brimming with Japanese characteristics. Most were dull and battered, and the warehouse's overall