Chapter 172: Reencounter, Search, Ritual, Frenzy

"Demon! Get out of my daughter's body! I'll kill you!"

Switz screamed, his eyes blazing with rage; he had done so much for his daughter, but now the demon was still trying to take her from him—damn it, he would kill the demon at all costs.

As for killing his daughter along with it…

That was unavoidable; at least by killing the demon, his daughter's soul could ascend to heaven rather than be dragged to hell under the demon's control.

This was the only thing he could do for her—and for this, he would risk his life!

"Caleb! Get your gun and find your sister!"

He shouted, hoping his eldest son would join him.

Inside the house, the eldest son, his mouth slashed open, stepped out with a gun—but his muzzle seemed, intentionally or not, aimed at his own father.

At that moment.

"Switz?"

A voice rang out—it was Louis, standing at the farm gate watching him, with Jiali beside him.

Switz froze, stared for two seconds, then quickly recognized Louis and Jiali—it had only been a few days, he hadn't forgotten them.

"It's you two. Sorry, I've got something urgent to handle—I can't entertain you now."

Switz hurriedly said, then turned to Caleb, "What are you waiting for? Go find her!"

At that moment, Caleb's gun was already pointed at the ground; he nodded frantically at his father's shouts and began moving.

Louis, standing at the gate, stared calmly.

Just now, he had sensed an odd fluctuation in the barn—Jiali had felt it too.

When they sensed it, the owner seemed to sense them as well; next, Louis and Jiali saw a girl crawl out from the wall like a spider, vanishing into the woods in an instant.

And Switz had rushed out at that very moment, shouting about catching his daughter.

Louis wasn't surprised to see Switz here—he'd already known this was Switz's farm when he asked around on his way here.

Combining Switz's earlier words in the car, his recent shouts, and everything else—

The conclusion was easy to reach.

The girl just now was his sick daughter—likely this time's offering of the Minel Sect—but something had gone wrong, and she'd escaped in this form.

At that moment, Father Cotton trudged out of the barn, head hung low.

His emotions were tangled: the collapse of his faith, terror at the reality of gods and demons, shame for having spoken the truth and allowed the demon to remain in the girl…

All these emotions twisted together, tormenting him.

"No, I must do something. First, find the girl."

Cotton rallied himself.

At that moment, "Hello, could you tell me what just happened here?"

He looked up—a handsome young man and a blonde girl stood before him.

Cotton bit his lip and shook his head. "Sorry, I can't speak of what happened here. Please leave quickly."

Louis shook his head, and the color of his clothes subtly shifted—a hallucination bloomed in the minds of Father Cotton and the two cameramen behind him.

Unconsciously, Father Cotton revealed everything that had just occurred.

No sooner had he finished than he violently broke free of the illusion, clutching his head, brow furrowed, "Hss…"

"What happened? Why do I feel like I just said something?"

Louis raised an eyebrow in surprise—Father Cotton had strong willpower; he broke free so quickly.

Louis quietly lifted the illusion from the two cameramen and looked at Father Cotton. "Then we'll take our leave."

"Mm-hmm."

Father Cotton was still rubbing his temples, but his feet had already begun moving, eyes scanning for the girl.

Watching Father Cotton leave,

Louis stroked his chin. "Heh. Abalam's precognition is pretty weak."

Abalam had precognition—that Louis had known from the start; otherwise, he and Jiali and Haili's movements wouldn't have been revealed to the cultists.

But just now, Abalam hadn't reacted until they reached the farm gate—he hadn't used his precognition. Clearly, the ability was weak.

"That's troublesome. I was hoping you'd gather all the cultists for a clean sweep—but it seems you might not have that ability."

Louis had deliberately leaked information, letting the old women spread word, precisely to force them to cluster together—so he could wipe them all out at once. Coming to this sacrifice site was also to see what choice Abalam would make upon sensing his approach.

Would he gather all his forces to resist—or simply flee?

But now it seemed Abalam's precognition was limited; the hope of a clean sweep might not work. No—though his precognition was weak, he'd still sensed Louis and Jiali's arrival and directly controlled the host to flee, proving he could sense their strength.

So the question remained: would he gather his forces—or flee?

"Let's go, Jiali. Find her!"

Jiali nodded and unleashed her telekinesis fully; an invisible force expanded outward like a circle, sweeping rapidly in all directions.

At that moment,

In the local church, an elderly man in a priest's robe, looking kind and gentle, answered a call. His expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened.

"Father Manly, what should I do?" A wealthy woman, dressed in finery, who had just conspired with her lover to murder her son and now feared her husband's return, was confessing to Father Manly and seeking guidance.

Father Manly kept his gentle smile. "The Lord will forgive you—but you must confess to your husband, for lies are unclean."

"Is that so? But won't my husband kill me?"

"No—if he kills you, he will be rejected by the Lord. So you need not fear."

The woman sighed in relief. "Thank you, Father Manly. I understand. I must not lie—that would anger the Lord. I'll go find my husband now."

Watching the woman leave, Father Manly's eyes flickered with disgust—foolish woman!

You've already killed someone—what's a lie? You still expect God's forgiveness? What nonsense!

These people are so stupid, no wonder they've been brainwashed by these flawed doctrines. Shepherds… shepherds… heh, a flock of fools!

But I am different. I will escape this flock—I will no longer be a sheep!

So I will not allow anyone to ruin this outcome.

Remembering the phone call, Father Manly's gaze turned dark. At that moment, a tattoo on his body burned fiercely.

He hurried to the church's backyard, to his residence.

Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he knelt devoutly, sliced his palm, and let his blood drip onto the earth. "Great Abalam! Reveal your will!"

A voice seemed to whisper in Manly's ear; he closed his eyes and nodded repeatedly. "Understood, understood. I will perform the ritual immediately."

"All of them?"

"Yes, I understand."

When he finished speaking, he turned his palm over—the wound had vanished.

Manly took a deep breath and instantly returned to his usual composed demeanor.

He pulled out his phone and began dialing.

Then, Manly locked the church and exited through the back door, heading in one direction. Along the way, one person after another approached, forming a stream—townsfolk, including the fat woman who had given Louis directions.

People from all walks of life: shop clerks, lawyers, middle-class, the destitute, the wealthy, the homeless…

All were equal—no one despised you for dirty clothes, no one discriminated against you for skin color, because they all shared the same faith.

"Great Abalam!"

They stood before a wooden cabin on the outskirts—the second sacrifice site, besides Switz's farm forest.

A massive summoning array had already been carved into the ground.

Five meters in diameter, circular outside, square within, containing a pentagram and grid lines forming a geometric pattern—all drawn in blood-red, faintly emitting a stench of decay.

Everyone performed their roles: gathering wood, repairing the array with blood, checking its lines, polishing the stone altar, chanting incantations…

Some core members donned black robes, lit bonfires, and stood around the summoning array, waiting. Father Manly had also shed his priest's robe, torn off the cross on his chest, and donned a black robe, standing at the front.

Together, they chanted the incantations; the dense, intricate words resonated under the voices of many.

The sound grew louder, seeping outward.

It carried an inexplicable power that influenced the mind.

Against this eerie, terrifying scene, the sound added a solemn gravity.

Time passed slowly.

The chanting did not cease; all waited.

Then, a gust of wind sounded.

A shadow flashed before their eyes; when they looked again, a filthy, golden-haired girl lay on the central stone altar, chains automatically binding her wrists and ankles.

The girl was Niel.

At this moment, Niel seemed to have returned to herself—terrified, she stared at the chains binding her and the black-robed figures chanting around her.

"No! Who are you?"

"Why am I here?"

"What are you going to do?"

Manly glanced at her, said nothing, and calmly stepped forward, raising his hand.

Boom!

The chanting of those around him surged violently—this immense sound brimmed with fanaticism and desire.

Niel screamed uncontrollably, looking around—dozens of eyes, fixed on her, filled with reverence, faith, fanaticism, longing, greed…

Eyes that saw nothing but her!

Amid this frenzy, Father Manly withdrew a dagger from his black robe and extended his aged hand, stroking Niel's belly.

The girl's soft skin did not cause him the slightest pause—he searched for the spot as mechanically as one would for a beast.

Finally.

The hand stopped.

(End of chapter)