Chapter 157: Indian Five Crowns, Twisted Priest, Pursuit

Jiali's voice was heavy with gravity.

Louis's expression changed as Jiali spoke, "That doll shop in Orlando?"

"Yes, I'm certain."

Louis nodded and dialed the phone immediately.

Soon, Yulunka called back, "There's no doll shop there anymore—it's now a pastry shop. The owner says it was leased out several months ago."

"Alright, I understand."

Louis hung up and stared at the shop. "There's something wrong."

It wasn't a sudden teleportation—it was a lease transfer months ago, perhaps due to business troubles, or some other reason.

But for a doll shop to move all the way from Florida to California—such a vast distance—is unthinkable.

Especially since Jiali bought Fenli from this very shop, and now the dollhouse is here again.

Such a coincidence?

Louis didn't believe it.

But he didn't want to go in himself, so…

Quickly.

Ding ling ling.

The doorbell rang.

A Latino man entered the shop, looking toward the shopkeeper—a dark-skinned old man in a gray robe, smoking a cigarette.

"Boss, do you have any dollhouses here?"

The old man glanced over and pointed to the side—two dollhouses sat there, but not a single doll inside.

"If you want to buy something, bring more people—it's better for discounts."

The Latino man frowned, not understanding, but noted it down anyway. "Then, boss, do you have any dolls that move on their own?"

The old man didn't answer.

Helpless, the Latino man searched the shop, memorized something, then hurried out.

In the corner, Louis handed a hundred-dollar bill to the man before him, watched him leave, then turned to Jiali.

"We can confirm now—this shop is definitely suspicious. Let's go in. He's already noticed us."

Ding ling ling.

The doorbell rang again.

This time, the old man wasn't lying on his chair—he sat up. "Customer, hello. What are you looking for?"

Louis looked around—the shop was filled with dolls of every kind, even the latest Barbie dolls, showing the shopkeeper kept up with trends and never stocked outdated goods.

"Boss, I want to buy a doll that moves on its own. Do you have one?"

"I used to, but I don't anymore." As he spoke, the old man stared directly at Jiali. "It was bought by this little girl."

Louis raised an eyebrow—he hadn't expected the man to admit it so openly.

The old man smiled. "That doll's core and soul were cursed with a dark witchcraft. Later, a certain priest cast a benevolent curse upon it, so there's no danger of harm. If you're bold enough, you can treat the little thing as a childcare doll."

Damn—he admitted everything, and spilled Fenli's secrets clean.

"Who are you?"

Seeing the old man's honesty, Louis decided to play his cards straight.

The old man chuckled, unoffended, and pulled from beneath the table a headdress made of animal hide, adorned with a row of thick eagle and hawk tail feathers, its edges embedded with gold, silver, and gems, hanging loosely—ornate, mysterious.

Louis understood at once.

Out of curiosity about why America was so strangely frequent in its anomalies, Louis had briefly studied its history—where the Native Americans could not be ignored.

This headdress represented a Native American priest.

And not just any Native American priest.

Native American priests could be classified and ranked by their headdresses—there were five main types.

The eagle feather crown, symbolizing bravery.

The gemstone crown, embedded with gold and silver, symbolizing wealth.

The nature crown, made of wolf and bear pelts combined with feathers, symbolizing mercy and wisdom.

The chief crown, woven from multiple feathers like a shawl, its colors representing different spiritual forces, symbolizing power.

The death crown, made of animal bones, blood, and hide, symbolizing war and darkness.

The old man before them wore a headdress bearing three of these symbols: eagle feather crown, gemstone crown, nature crown.

Bravery, wealth, wisdom.

His status among Native Americans was obvious.

"So you recognize it. No need for me to explain."

"You came for the dollhouse, didn't you?" the old man asked directly.

"Correct. Since you sold it, you must know there's something wrong with it."

"Of course. I deliberately put it out there." The old man spoke as if it were obvious.

???

Seeing Louis's surprise, the old man smiled. "I sell things. Others buy. Fair and just. Isn't that what white people value—the spirit of contract?"

"Then why are you so shocked?"

"Alright, then why do this? The buyer was just a little girl."

"When white people sold drugs to our children, they didn't care if they were kids." The old man shrugged.

"Why do I do it? Ha—I like to. I have many things here. For good people, I sell ordinary items."

"For ordinary people, it's all luck. Bad luck? You buy a killer doll? Then you deserve to die."

"Especially religious people—they deserve to die more."

"As for evil people? Ha—I won't let them die easily. I want them to roam the world, causing chaos, drawing demons, becoming their companions."

As the old man spoke, his lips curled in a smile. In Louis's eyes, the soul's fluctuation made it clear—he wasn't lying. Every word was true.

Then the question arose.

Why?

Why did he do this?

Why tell us so much?

And—is he insane? These rules seem deliberately targeted at white people and Christians, yet he doesn't truly harm the good. It's so twisted.

"Kid, don't casually use your power to peer into others. One day you'll provoke someone powerful and die." The old man suddenly snorted—and the soul's fluctuation vanished from Louis's sight.

Louis nodded apologetically to the old man.

"Enough of that. Since you came for the dollhouse, let me tell you about it."

"It's infused with a portion of the great Quetzalcoatl's power. Then I added some curse energy. Anyone who takes out the skull will be killed by the curse."

"Of course, with your strength, you can withstand it."

"But don't try anything foolish. If the great Quetzalcoatl's power inside mutates, it's beyond ordinary imagination." The old man sneered.

Louis's eyes flickered.

Quetzalcoatl—the Aztec god of life, light, wisdom, agriculture—the supreme deity. Of course, He had another, more widely known name—Feathered Serpent God/Sun God, Kukulkan!

No wonder the things in the dollhouse came alive—infused with the god of life, animation was natural.

But to release something fused with divine power? Was this old man really so careless?

"Hmph, don't look at me like that."

"Everyone can buy these things. We Native Americans have our own rules. My sales are pure luck. If you get it, it's your fortune. No one can take it from you."

"Now your questions are done. It's my turn."

"Tell me—have you ever encountered a Native American priest?" The old man fixed Louis with a piercing stare.

Clearly, this was why he'd brought Louis in.

But Native American priest?

Today, Native Americans are few, mostly confined to reservations set by America—how could one possibly encounter one, let alone a priest?

But since he said it, there must be a reason.

Where had Louis encountered one?

Louis frowned, thinking hard.

Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine.

Shit—he really had!

But not a living person—his corpse!

That summoning arm!

Louis's family once pursued its origin—a Vodou witch of Native American descent had gained fame in Florida as a medium, then one day claimed he was going to New York City to earn money for his Native brothers.

He vanished without a trace.

All that remained was the severed hand. Louis suspected the W Company had killed him and turned him into a special artifact.

Otherwise, the ceramic and incantations suppressing its power couldn't be explained.

Louis had only ever had prolonged contact with this Native American-descended hand—he'd never even met a Native American before.

Louis hesitated briefly, then told the old man everything.

Of course, he slightly embellished and concealed parts of it.

When the old man heard that it could summon evil spirits, making the touched soul partially open and extremely sensitive, his expression became visibly agitated.

"It's him, it must be him—he's still alive, that's good, but why isn't he with Red Deer?"

When he heard Louis's account—that the man had wanted to improve the lives of the Native Americans, to make big money, and ended up with only a severed hand—the old man's entire face darkened. "Severed hand… severed hand…"

If a shaman's hand was turned into a soul-summoning tool, could he possibly escape a bad fate?

The outcome was obvious.

The old man clenched his fist, teeth gritted, his face terrifyingly grim. The entire doll shop began to tremble slightly, and even the dust and pebbles on the floor started to jump.

A strong sense of danger surged forth, and Louis's skin broke out in goosebumps.

The Blood River Pearl began to tremble faintly, the Ten Thousand Illusions Robe subtly shifted color, and a crimson mark flickered briefly across his brow.

Even Xiang Jiali, who had remained silent until now, sensed the danger. Her powerful mental force began to swirl around her, and she stepped forward, subtly positioning herself before Louis.

The old man continued muttering to himself.

"I knew it, I knew it—none of the white people are good."

"Fool! Why chase money? The white devils' money is all stolen. Without divine protection, how can we ever outwit them…"

"Christianity, damn that God."

"Demons, I'll unleash more demons…"

"Fuck your God!"

(End of Chapter)