Exorcist's Self-Cultivation-Chapter 697 - 674 it appeared again

Chapter 697: 674, it appeared again Chapter 697: 674, it appeared again Standing at the doorway.

Du Wei withdrew his gaze, behind him was the interior of the psychological counseling clinic, chaotic and messy, with litter scattered about and walls cracked.

Countless black threads floated freely, as if alive.

In his conception, these threads were the fishing lines, and he himself was the bait, a lure capable of attracting the Demon Gods, provided he found the “fishing rod.”

Only then could he hook the Demon Gods into the dream and feed them to the Everlasting Flower.

However, at this stage, the Everlasting Flower was certainly not capable of killing a Demon God that existed only in concept.

It was still very young.

...

It needed the careful nurturing of Du Wei, the gardener.

“Now, I have one more trump card,”

Du Wei whispered to himself. He walked toward his car, having gathered almost enough information; there was no need to stay any longer.

He had been too exhausted lately, he needed time to recuperate.

Furthermore, the plan to deceive and trap the demons into becoming gods in armor also needed a specific operational process to be considered.

He had a premonition that this crisis of Rahmer’s was just the beginning since it was one of the Demon Gods, and since the fight had started, it meant that the battle with the Demon Gods had begun.

According to others and the information gathered by Du Wei, the loop had already begun at his arrival.

And he had denied the loop.

This was supposed to be the last game.

…

Under the night sky, a McLaren GT slowly drove away from the psychological counseling clinic, leaving the North Brook District along the refurbished road toward the city center.

After a long while.

The moon hung high in the New York night sky when suddenly, a cloud drifted over, throwing the counseling clinic into darkness.

At the second-floor window.

The dense black threads were squirming.

They converged, vaguely forming a human silhouette.

Once, the long-dead Hannibal had entered the counseling clinic, exactly at that time when Du Wei was dealing with the Demon Nun in his dream.

Rahmer’s Bell had run amok once.

It did something, and after Hannibal entered the psychological counseling clinic, he saw the shadow of Annabelle and another blurry silhouette formed by black threads.

That silhouette was exactly like Du Wei, only its body was made of black threads.

Later, when Du Wei returned to reality, Rahmer’s Bell never brought out that black Du Wei again.

But now…

It had appeared.

And it seemed to have always been in the psychological counseling clinic.

Within the darkness.

The thread-formed human silhouette became clearer, from limbs to face, then to clothing, perfectly replicating Du Wei.

This Du Wei showed no expression whatsoever.

A pair of eyes, pitch black and cold.

Let’s call it Black Du Wei.

Compared to Black Du Wei, the now blind Du Wei seemed more like the fake one.

Black Du Wei looked down at his clothes for a moment.

He was dressed in a suit.

It was the second gift Alex had given to Du Wei and on its wrist was a Patek Philippe watch, also from Alex.

Seemingly hesitant.

It turned around, and by the time it re-entered the house, it was wearing a coat identical to the one Du Wei was wearing now.

“It’s still not enough like him.”

The tone of Black Du Wei was unusually calm, identical to the past Du Wei.

And.

It could speak.

As he arrived at the door of the second-floor bedroom,

he reached out, grasped the doorknob, and pulled it open, only to find pitch darkness within.

However,

as Black Du Wei stepped in with one foot, the darkness completely dissipated, replaced by an intact and unchanged psychology counseling clinic, just as it was in the beginning.

And it seemed to be afternoon in this place.

On the first floor, a young Caucasian woman sat, looking utterly haggard.

Upon seeing Black Du Wei descend, the woman swiftly stood up and said in a low voice, “Dr. Du Wei, I…”

Black Du Wei gestured for silence with a finger to his lips.

Then, he walked over to the woman, sat down on the sofa, and reached out to pick up the paper and pencil on the coffee table.

Grasping the pencil, he paused it over the form on the paper, raised his head to look at the pale-faced woman opposite him, and said softly, “Ms. Aisha, now you may continue with the topic we were on.”

“Okay… okay, Dr. Du Wei.”

…

In a distant place, amidst the snow-covered mountains,

a high tower stood tall.

At that moment, a blizzard was falling.

The sky turned dark and ashen.

Nine members of the Vanity Sect were waiting in front of the tower.

They were undaunted by the cold,

each wearing a mask.

As for the others, Ferran, Brand, Gascogne, and Mercer, they had left a few days earlier to visit the Voodoo Cult.

Among the nine,

Alfaria stood in front of the tower, sitting on the snowy ground. It seemed some force was at work around him, leaving the ground dry; when the wind and snow blew towards him, they would automatically swerve aside.

Fight the urge to sneeze,

Alfaria took a deep breath. Lately, for some unknown reason, he felt as if he were under some irresistible influence, always sensing a feeling of bodily decay.

At first, it wasn’t noticeable and didn’t affect him in any way.

But as time went on,

Alfaria felt his body growing heavier, and certain ailments that should not have been possible began to manifest in him.

Although now it was only sneezing,

it was likely that in time, he would fall ill.

“I am no longer human, so why do I show human symptoms?”

Alfaria silently questioned himself.

Then, in his mind, a voice appeared.

The voice told him that there was an immortal being ceaselessly cursing him, from the past into the future, without ever stopping.

In a trance,

Alfaria saw darkness, and within that darkness, a ferocious and agonizing voice raged: “Alfaria, I curse you, I curse that you will not meet a good death.”

“You devil, your torment of me is unending, and my curse upon you will last until the end of the world.”

The bold one to curse Alfaria in this way was naturally Lock Ghost Puton.

Alfaria didn’t understand why he was under a curse,

nor did he comprehend how the other party knew his name.

After all, his past had grown hazy.

Those who knew his name in this world were no more than three, and the members of the Vanity Sect didn’t count, as they were essentially one entity.

However, for Alfaria, this wasn’t an unsolvable problem.

He extended a finger and touched the mask on his face.

An invisible force then insulated the curse and reflected it back.

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Having done all this,

he asked the others in a low voice, “Has there been any news from Ferran and the others? When can the stele from the Voodoo Cult be brought back?”