Don't Be Stupid, Who the Hell Is on Your Side?

"Damn that sulfur stench. That guy actually projected Hell into the human world..."

Constantine coughed violently. He had once been dead for two minutes, and afterward had traveled back and forth between Hell and the human world on and off. His familiarity with the smell of sulfur was second only to nicotine, alcohol, and perfume.

Don't underestimate those two minutes. Just as the East had the saying, "One day in heaven, one year on earth," the West had similar notions. One second in the human world was close to eternity in Hell.

During those two minutes in the human world, Constantine had endured unspeakable suffering in Hell. That was why he swore his soul would never belong to Hell.

Of course, the fact that many of his friends had settled down in Hell was another reason.

What baffled Constantine was not the projection of Hell, but Baldasar. This was not a matter of capability, but of authority and power. Baldasar was not qualified to do something like this.

"This bastard really has a problem. There's someone behind him!" Constantine gripped the Golden Finger Guard in one hand and wrapped the other in what looked like rotten burlap, then strode toward Baldasar.

Don't underestimate that scrap of cloth. Against creatures of Hell, it was more than ten times deadlier than gold blessed by an Archbishop.

Its origins were even greater!

This scrap was one of Constantine's collectibles: a fragment of the clothes Moses had worn when he ascended Mount Sinai. Across the entire human world, it was a top-tier holy relic.

Russell raised a hand to stop Constantine and nodded toward Angela. "She's the enemy's target. Don't let them capture her. Leave Baldasar to me."

"Be careful. There's something wrong with that guy." Constantine did not insist. Charging into battle had