Global Dungeon: I Can See the Status Bar

"Get lost!"

The True Monarch of Destiny had been completely assimilated, even rolling his eyes.

"My lineage has been passed down since the Mythical Era, calling it a living fossil of the Cultivator Realm wouldn’t be an exaggeration, how could it be fake?"

Lu Wenwu shrugged his shoulders, "But hadn’t we wandered around blindly for a week without finding any real clues? We did dismantle a few seemingly cult-like hideouts, but they were just idle mortals wasting their time."

It was better not to mention this; as soon as it was brought up, the True Monarch of Destiny’s defenses broke.

His expression was visibly cracking.

Because, frankly, the United States was just too damn free.

So free that it’s practically paradise for demon cultivators, and a holy land for demonic cults.

Don’t even mention the hidden modern demon cultivators and ancient ones among the people; there are countless small cults worshiping bizarre evil gods, all crafted by mortals themselves.

They multiply like mushrooms after the rain.

What made the True Monarch of Destiny feel even more strained was that this place’s "freedom" also spawned numerous businesses.

In fact, it can be said that here, as long as you have enough money, you can buy anything.

Even someone’s life.

What Lu Wenwu just said immediately reminded the True Monarch of Destiny about three days ago.

That day, the two of them stormed into a large-scale cult sacrificial hideout, thinking they had some clues in their search for the "Great Celestial Venerable."

Because spiritual power scans showed the number of people being sacrificed there was over a hundred.

However, when they barged in, they found that everyone involved, whether sacrifices or sacrificers, were merely mortals.

A bunch of mortals could actually use bodies and flesh to offer to the so-called evil gods in broad daylight!

Basically, more demonic than demon cultivators!

Both stupid and evil!

Just as Lu Wenwu was holding Mao Mao’s leash, watching with the True Monarch of Destiny while sipping on a Coke, a skinny, dried-up black guy crept up from the side with a shotgun in hand, a violent glint flashing in his eyes.

It seemed that he confirmed they hadn’t noticed him, the guy who looked like a monkey immediately jumped out, cocked the shotgun with a "click" and shouted with a slang-inflected voice:

"You two damned yellow monkeys, hand over all your money to me!"

"What’s this Kunlun Slave babbling about?"

The True Monarch of Destiny was already fuming, and upon hearing someone bark like a dog, the look of disgust on his face deepened.

"It’s a zero-dollar purchase." Lu Wenwu shrugged.

He smiled at the black guy, pointing at the shotgun with an impeccable old Washington star-spangled accent, "Is this your first time using this thing?"

"Damn yellow monkey, what nonsense are you spouting!" The skinny black guy shouted with his plump purple lips.

Then with another crisp "click," he reloaded the shotgun again.

Red and yellow shells were expelled from the chamber, falling onto the asphalt with a muffled thud, rolling to Lu Wenwu’s feet.

"See, I said it’s your first time using a shotgun."

Lu Wenwu bent down, picked up the two fallen shells, and casually squeezed them.

"Don’t watch too many Hollywood movies. Not every shotgun requires pumping like the governor or Will Smith before shooting; it just wastes your bullets."

"Click..."

"Bang!"

The sudden sound of the gun dropping and the accidental firing when hitting Lu Wenwu changed the atmosphere in the place to slightly awkward.

All because when Lu Wenwu squeezed the shells, he used a bit of force, inadvertently exploding the gunpowder inside them and accidentally twisting the metal into a distorted lump.

The shotgun hit Lu Wenwu at close range but didn’t cause any harm, instead turning into small iron fragments that rained down on the ground like raindrops.

"Devil... devil! You’re a devil!"

The black guy, who was so scared he dropped his gun, collapsed to the ground with some liquid leaking from his crotch, trembling as he crawled away.

"Devil? Tsk, I’m not some cheap thing like that."

Lu Wenwu snickered, his right hand slightly moving.

The twisted metal lump he was holding instantly pierced through the black guy’s head and embedded in a distant tree.

"Master Wu is a legit Abyss Demon, Netherworld Ghost Messenger; even Satan would have to polish my shoes. What’s a devil worth? Dare to compare with me?"

Theoretically speaking, Lu Wenwu didn’t actually have Abyss Demon blood.

He did have some Dragon Race blood traits and a lot of Dimensional Wanderer bloodline characteristics; claiming to be part of Dragon Race or Space Wanderer wouldn’t be a problem.

But...

Considering the thick abyss aura emanating from his two pieces of pseudo-mythical level equipment and that iconic Demon Dragon transformation.

Even if he said he wasn’t an Abyss Demon, no one would believe it.

If so, then fine.

Being a demon isn’t bad.

Who says a spirit abyss half-dragon space wanderer isn’t a demon!

"Old man, if you have no objections, I’ll get started."

Lu Wenwu handed Mao Mao’s leash to the True Monarch of Destiny, showing a benevolent smile and stretched his body.

"Go ahead, I won’t stop you this time, at worst I’ll calculate again." The True Monarch of Destiny snorted fiercely, "A country riddled with filth like this should have been destroyed long ago!"

"Then that’s good."

Lu Wenwu sneered and stepped forward, his figure suddenly transforming into a stream of light and disappearing.

Five seconds later, the gunfight that swept through half a neighborhood abruptly stopped.

Only headless corpses of black folks were left on the ground.

Lu Wenwu’s form returned.

He performed the Water Gathering Technique, forming a bubble from the air to wash his hands.

"All settled?"

"Hard to say."

Lu Wenwu glanced toward a spot at the end of the street, revealing a bloodthirsty sneer again.

"How many more will die, that depends on Mr. Tucker’s choices..."

...

Tucker, a head honcho in a large gang in Florida.

However, being a gangster is only his public identity, as well as that of the core members high up in the gang hierarchy.

These people are actually followers of a sect named "Light Divine Teachings," all revering a deity dubbed the "Supreme God of Light."

They exchange some offerings for this god’s blessings, thereby acquiring powers akin to superpowers.

In the United States, such things aren’t difficult.

Same as what was said before.

As long as you have enough money, you can easily buy someone’s life here.

Especially when it comes to a state-level big gang.

They are undoubtedly the dark emperors of the Florida underworld, secretly holding everything here.

It’s precisely for devoting to this Supreme God of Light that Tucker often leads his big brother to help small and large gangs, consistently expanding the dark world’s influence and spreading the "gospel" to neighboring states.

Belief, while inherently good or bad, is surely most susceptible to fooling the ignorant.

And where to find such people...

Under the cultivation of big gangs, the mystical Florida underworld consistently produces a large number of such "fools" every year.

Tucker is someone who continuously roams across Florida regions, offering one-on-one aid generously.

Today, he originally brought his men to the bar to find fun like usual, with some stripping.

Unexpectedly, he suddenly received a help request from fostered forces, so without hesitation, he came directly with his men.

Then what?

Then Tucker was dumbfounded.

He watched a gang member fire accidentally at a tall man’s abdomen.

Not only was the man unharmed, but he also exploded the shell in his hand and returned fire, blasting the gang member’s head.

Soon after, it only took a few seconds for that tall man to disappear, and the prior intense gun battle stopped.

Dozens of gang members all had their heads removed, headless corpses lined up neatly on the road, blood painted the entire street crimson.

And that tall man appeared right then, looking in his direction.

"How many more will die, that depends on Mr. Tucker’s choices..."

Tucker admitted.

That moment, his legs were so weak he wanted to kneel before the man.

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