Superman's Journey to a Thousand Worlds

The time limit given by Lincoln to the Presbyterians was three days, but the time limit given by the Presbyterians to Lincoln was not even three seconds.

The next moment the mission was issued, the Continental Hotel transformed from its original neutral state into a killer service organization that was strongly hostile to Lincoln.

It was at this moment that Lincoln knew that those "high and mighty" big shots had made their choice.

"What a pity." Pushing open the door, the carpeted corridor was already filled with heavily armed gunmen.

The moment they saw Lincoln appear, they pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Da da da da——

The hammer continuously fired the primer of the bullet, and the bright yellow bullets blocked the entire corridor like dense rain, leaving no room for dodge.

"It's just a toy." Lincoln looked indifferent, with a trace of disdain in his eyes. Without any dodge, he walked towards the blocking troops who were shooting wildly.

clang clang clang clang!

The hard bullets hit Lincoln from all angles, but just like hitting an impenetrable steel plate, dense sparks continued to splash, and countless bullets were ejected and turned into stray bullets.

Seeing Lincoln, who was born like a descendant, approaching step by step, the gunmen couldn't help but feel panic in their hearts. They began to retreat continuously, but they could never match the speed of Lincoln's advance.

Bang!

The muffled sound of an exploding barrel rang in his ears. Lincoln blew away the smoke rising from his chest, stretched out his hand to clasp the head of the gunman whose eyes were filled with fear, and then slammed the gunman against the wall.

Bang!

There was another explosion, and the carpet and walls were stained red with blood.

Letting go of the corpse whose head had been completely crushed, Lincoln turned his head and looked at the remaining gunmen again: "Next, it's your turn."

"Kill him! Kill him!"

Looking at the headless corpses lying on the ground, horrified shouts echoed in the corridor, and the gunshots became more rapid, but this could not stop Lincoln's footsteps at all.

Bang!

Skull exploded!

puff!

The chest is broken!

Lincoln's footsteps were inhumanly firm, and what was left behind him were corpses one after another that he forcibly crushed and torn to pieces with brutal means.

The unparalleled blood greatly stimulated the vision and nerves of the gunmen, and their spirits suffered unprecedented oppression until a palm pressed on their face, mercifully ending their fearful life.

From the door to the stairs, dozens of corpses were left behind in the short ten-meter stretch. When Lincoln came downstairs, what was waiting for him was no longer ordinary gunmen, but a special operations team holding a rocket launcher.

The screams from upstairs did not shake the will of this special operations team at all. The moment he saw Lincoln's voice, the captain decisively gave the order: "Fire!"

The rocket with a bright tail flame roared out and hit Lincoln who was not dodging.

Smoke and flames exploded along with the roar at the entrance of the corridor, blocking everyone's sight. The last moment they could see was Lincoln not dodging and letting the flames from the rocket launcher engulf him.

The dust kicked up by the shock wave turned the entire hall into a haze, but among the rising dust and smoke, everyone could clearly see a figure walking out through the dust and mist.

"Only at this level, you dare to stop in front of me."

Lincoln's voice was low, like a death knell ringing in everyone's heart. The team member closest to Lincoln subconsciously wanted to fight back, but all he saw was a flickering shadow of a fist.

The next moment, he turned into a bloody mist and exploded.

Whoosh whoosh-boom!

Lincoln's body moved rapidly in the room, and after releasing the suppression of the biological force field, the powerful sonic boom tore apart everything it touched in an instant.

After just a few breaths, Lincoln pushed open the dilapidated door and walked out. Behind him, the hotel lobby was in a mess, with flesh and blood mixed with dust and graffiti everywhere, with no living person in sight.

The biological force field prevented Lincoln from being stained with a trace of dirt, but looking at the dilapidated hotel behind him and the scattered corpses in it, no one would think that Lincoln was as clean as he appeared.

On the street outside the Continental Hotel, many killers had gathered who were ready to respond to the kill order and hunt down Lincoln. However, when they saw Lincoln walking out of the hotel, no one dared to make any move.

A smile appeared at the corner of Lincoln's mouth, and his eyes swept over the killers: "Are you here to kill me too?"

Facing Lincoln's half-smiling gaze, the killers shook their heads hurriedly, saying that they were just passers-by, stopping just to watch the excitement, and the guns in their hands were bought on the way at a discount at a gun store.

They just happened to stop here and had no other intention!

Thinking with his toenails, Lincoln knew that what they said was not the truth, but it was pointless to target these unorganized killers.

What he wanted to target was the organized troops under the Continental Hotel and the forces in the High Table Presbyterian Church. These stragglers were simply not worth his while.

Textile Mill No. 17, Brooklyn, New York.

As the actual controller of the Brotherhood, Sloan gained the support of Hydra by selling holy objects and unique arc ballistic techniques, and became a member of the Twelve Seats of the High Table.

It is not necessarily true that being a member of the High Table has brought benefits to the fraternity, but it is undeniable that Sloan himself has benefited a lot from it.

But now, the time has come for him to pay the price marked by fate.

The destruction of the Continental Hotel in New York City made Sloan realize that things had reached an irreversible point. He summoned all the assassins in the Brotherhood and prepared to wait for Lincoln to appear.

He looked calmly at the only entrance and exit of Textile Factory No. 17, but as a sonic boom sounded above his head, the expression on Sloan's face suddenly stiffened.

His neck was like a rusty gear, and he looked up with difficulty and confusion.

Even from a considerable distance, Sloan could still clearly identify the figure with the cloak flying behind his back and hanging in the air without any external objects. He was the target he wanted to deal with.

Sloan stared at Lincoln until he saw a flash of red in Lincoln's eyes, then he said lightly: "holy shit..."

Hey!

The crimson beam fell from the sky like a satellite strike, and in just an instant, Sloan's figure was evaporated.

The beam hit the main building structure of the textile factory unabated. The next moment, the building began to melt and collapse, burying one figure after another in the ruins.

With super vision and heat vision, it only takes a few breaths for Lincoln to wipe out the living creatures in the entire No. 17 Textile Factory.

Houses collapsed and limbs were torn apart. The base camp that Sloan spent a long time building was completely destroyed in an instant by Lincoln's dimensionality reduction attack.

Leaving behind a pile of ruins, Lincoln straightened up slightly, then tore apart a roaring sonic boom and left in the distance.