Chapter 114: Star-Cutting Demon

She remembered these details because, while researching earlier, she had once speculated: who was the final sacrifice offered to by this astrologer?

A sacrifice always requires an object; if the target is unclear, the outcome will inevitably deviate.

In Hungarian mythology at the time, the most famous demon who lured humans was ordog, transliterated as Erdiqi.

After being absorbed into Christian mythology, it was directly equated with the Christian devil, and some even believed it was linked to Satan—either a facet of Satan or one of his forms.

Opinions varied widely.

But recalling the inverted pentagram carved on the box that held the Tarot cards—that was a famously recognized symbol of Satan in Christianity, and also a ritual emblem for summoning demons.

Combined, the identity of the sacrifice’s target seemed now clear.

Thus, assuming a demon’s form likely granted immense power amplification; this card might even be the astrologer’s strongest.

That man was in danger.

Alma’s eyes flickered. “Get ready. You must seize those Tarot cards.”

The other three young people nodded nervously.

At this point, they had no choice. If they didn’t break the curse, none of them would survive.

But that mysterious person didn’t seem… evil?

…

Alma’s speculation and worries were unknown to Louis, but he felt no threat.

The black-robed spirit before him had transformed into a demon, but it was still not a true demon, lacking such power—and even if it were a true demon, he had seen plenty.

There was still one trapped inside the box, burning every day.

So Louis was utterly unafraid.

Besides… this thing was kind of stupid.

It seemed physically oriented. The black-robed spirit-turned-demon grinned savagely, lunging forward with pitch-black, razor-sharp claws aimed straight at Louis. Nearby, Mao Xiong let out a furious howl, eyes fierce, a faint black glow radiating from its body as it lunged to bite the demon.

Sssss!

Thick black smoke billowed from the wound. The demon cried out in pain, swinging its claws—but Mao Xiong dodged lightly and leapt back.

At that moment, seeing the demon now close, Louis smiled, snapping his fingers.

Snap!

Boom!!

Swirling emerald-black flames erupted instantly.

Spreading with terrifying speed, they engulfed the entire demon, burning every limb.

“Aaaahhhhh!!!”

Perhaps the agony that strikes the soul is truly this terrifying—even demons could not endure it. The clown demon in the box suffered the same. So does this false demon.

Poison Fire Technique is a double-advantage against demons. False demon? Is it a soul? Is it evil? Yes? Then perfect!

Crash! Crack!

Wooden planks shattered, splinters flew. Furniture tumbled. Stones were gouged with deep notches. Terrifying fist winds extinguished every candle. Holes appeared one after another. The entire room trembled, on the verge of collapse as the demon unleashed its destructive power.

If Louis were not a sorcerer but an ordinary martial artist, his physical strength alone could not withstand pure physical assault—he’d be torn apart.

Too bad there’s no “what if.”

What lay before him was merely a brief frenzy.

Ten seconds.

Only ten seconds.

Snap!

The false demon collapsed with a thunderous crash, its body bristling with sparks, limbs flickering between charred ruin and regeneration, eyes still fierce as it glared at Louis, limbs twitching as if still trying to fight.

Louis had dodged the frenzied attacks with agility and extinguished the flames, but he didn’t approach immediately. He merely watched. Slowly, the demon’s burned, mangled form began to twist and warp, reverting to the black-robed spirit.

Only then did Louis step forward.

Mao Xiong, having just interrupted the attack, now marched proudly ahead, even taking the lead, letting out a loud howl toward the black-robed spirit.

Suddenly,

Louis reached out and blew gently.

A willow leaf transformed into a golden blade, piercing straight toward the black-robed spirit.

Pfft!

“Ah!”

She cried out instinctively, writhing—but lacked the strength to rise. The soul-deep agony had drained most of her resistance.

Hearing her weak, breathless cry, Louis nodded in satisfaction and stepped before her.

He crouched down, expression regretful.

“Looks like I won this duel. I thought you might pull off a surprise—summoning the Tarot monster—but you’re just not up to it.”

The black-robed spirit’s ugly white face glared at Louis, its malice undiminished.

Louis wasn’t surprised. Judging by the ancient style of the robe, the spirit had fused with the curse for a long time, likely killed many, and its mind was probably already twisted, insane.

Unless it was properly burned by Poison Fire, like the clown demon, it wouldn’t calm down.

And the reason he hadn’t unleashed his deadliest move from the start—besides wanting to test his skills and insufficient range—was precisely to preserve it for study.

Even if he learned nothing, the mechanism of forced divination followed by hunting could serve as a new curse technique to supplement his own.

As a Left-Path sorcerer, he lacked enough signature curse methods.

Seeing the spirit now too weak to resist, Louis prepared to collect the Tarot cards—they were spoils of war.

But he wouldn’t collect them himself. Who knew what kind of curse lurked within? Louis glanced toward the four huddled in the corner.

Let’s be honest—humans are visual creatures.

The four, seeing Louis look their way, all reacted differently—but their fear had faded. When Louis first burst in, they’d been terrified, thinking him some kind of wizard from his fire and golden light.

Now, having recovered slightly, curiosity outweighed fear.

After all, Louis looked human—and quite presentable. He probably wasn’t evil… right?

“One of you, collect the Tarot cards for me,” Louis said.

Hearing this, Alma nodded calmly, stood up, and began gathering them. The other three young people moved automatically. Soon, all Tarot cards were collected and placed inside the pentagram box.

The moment the last card was placed, the fallen black-robed spirit vanished instantly—evidently returning to the Tarot cards.

The female student, the group’s leader, handed Louis the box. Seeing no unusual reaction from them, Louis relaxed slightly.

The girl opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then couldn’t help herself: “These Tarot cards are dangerous. Don’t ever play with them.”

Louis rolled his eyes, ignoring her. Of course they’re dangerous—otherwise how did you get cursed?

At that moment, Alma suddenly said, “The curse resides entirely in the astrologer’s spirit. These Tarot cards are merely conduits—the curse won’t spread.”

Louis glanced at her, understanding her intent, but said nothing.

The woman was too weak—her words required heavy skepticism, or he’d risk being tricked. Still, they weren’t entirely useless.

He wrapped the box in cloth, gripped the fabric strip, ignored the three young people, and turned to Alma. “I think we should talk.”

Alma nodded, coughing weakly twice. “Alright.”

The female student beside her, ignored, felt embarrassed. A male student behind her grew angry, as if to step forward—but was quickly pulled back by another female student.

“Let’s go. I just want to go home.”

“Master Alma, we—”

Alma glanced at Louis, saw his expressionless face, and nodded.

The three, as if granted pardon, immediately opened the door and left.

This experience would haunt them for life—even if they’d repeat their recklessness later, that remained to be seen.

Watching the youths depart, Alma said to Louis, “Sir… is there anything I can help you with? Cough.”

Louis smiled politely. “Miss Alma, I simply have a few questions for you.”

“But your condition seems poor.”

Saying this, Louis picked up a water cup from the corner—clearly brought by the youths—and pulled a yellow talisman from his pocket.

“Sacred water, radiant, ten thousand miles of brilliance. Five Thunder spreads its breath, destroying all ill fortune. Entering spleen and stomach, piercing gallbladder and intestines…”

The talisman burned, dissolving into the water. After a moment of cloudiness, it cleared. He handed the cup to her.

Alma stared at Louis in shock, took the talisman water without a word, and drank it down.

After swallowing it, her condition visibly improved—her pallor faded, replaced by a touch of color.

“Now, let’s talk properly.”

Sitting on a stool,

Louis first asked for the full backstory.

As expected, the incident was caused by the youths’ recklessness.

They rented this villa for a birthday party, grew bored, took out the divination box from the basement, and insisted one of their Tarot enthusiasts perform a reading for everyone—then the next day, things went wrong.

Two people died immediately. Realizing the danger, they sought out Alma, a local diviner with some reputation. Coincidentally, Alma had once personally experienced the horror caused by this divination box—she escaped because she never divined for herself.

Later, she researched the box’s origins and came to help—only to find she couldn’t defeat it. Her exorcism failed, and she nearly got exorcised herself.

“Sigh… I just realized now—the box’s power is beyond my capacity. Its origin may be tied to…”

Then Alma recounted the astrologer’s background and her possible sacrifice to Erdiqi.

“Erdiqi, though merely a great demon in Hungarian myth, later… may have become one of Satan’s forms, or a part of him. Either way, it’s linked to Satan.”

“Under these circumstances, how could I possibly oppose her?”

Alma scoffed bitterly.

(End of chapter)