Chapter 96: My Nephew Kyle Must Not Die in Vain
"Luckily, the doctor is my teammate!"
Old Lamp couldn't help but feel relieved.
Marcus reached out and took the pile of broken bone claws. He had an idea he wanted to experiment with.
"I'll take this one. I just grabbed a bottle of the potion from him too."
Marcus smiled and pushed the remaining two items back to Old Lamp.
"This..."
Old Lamp glanced at the blade and hesitated.
Although this thing couldn't be used many times, based on Kyle's usage, combined with the transparent potion, it would definitely be able to harm the evil spirits, especially since he had long arms and was more adept at wielding a weapon.
The reason Marcus gave the blade to Old Lamp was not only because the bone claws had a similar effect to the blade, but also because he had an idea about the broken bone claws.
Old Lamp's regret over the ceremonial blade earlier showed that he quite liked this weapon.
Although it wouldn't matter without Old Lamp, without a real fight, who could know what Kyle had up his sleeve?
Old Lamp made the first move, essentially testing the waters with his own life. Although the risk had been greatly reduced, it wasn't nonexistent.
The ceremonial blade and half a bottle of potion were essentially the same value; one for each person wouldn't be a problem, and Marcus even had an extra bottle of potion.
Since Old Lamp had drunk the water he'd just poured without hesitation, the blade, which Old Lamp had seized, was worth having.
He wasn't the kind of person who would take everything, whose teammates deserved to die, or the kind of scoundrel who would betray allies at the slightest provocation.
"Keep it. I'm not being polite, and I don't like false modesty!"
Marcus nodded to Old Lamp and said softly.
Seeing that Marcus wasn't just being polite, Old Lamp gave a respectful gesture and happily accepted the two items.
"Doctor, what should we do next? The main plot seems completely derailed. Is there still a chance?"
Old Lamp rubbed his forehead. He'd encountered the plot characters, but they'd all died along the way. What was he going to do?
"No, the chances are even greater!"
"The fact that this female spirit appeared tonight proves she's part of the story. Her death means the difficulty is reduced, not to mention three enemies have died."
Old Lamp agreed, chatted with Marcus for a while longer, and then disappeared into the night through the window.
Marcus closed the window and drew the curtains.
He took out a set of experimental heating equipment from his storage, set it up in the room, filled a large beaker with sterile water, and started boiling it.
He then took out a container, filled it halfway with water, placed a bowl on the water to float, squeezed half a packet of blood plasma into the bowl, and covered the bowl with a fine filter.
He slightly opened the sealed bag containing Kyle's mangled hand and Bug's head.
More than forty white worms, smelling the blood, rushed out through the opening and fell into the container.
Only when no more worms crawled out did Marcus destroy the remains.
He then used tongs to pick up the parasitic worms one by one and put them into the beaker.
A bottle of white liquid, about the size of an egg, was made from the solution of these worms.
In The Strain storyline, an old man used this method to make this liquid from worms to prolong his life and heal injuries, remaining lively and energetic even at 94.
Following the same method, he took out a sealed box, removed the main body of Bug, the 'red worm,' extracted about ten drops of the red liquid, and bottled it for storage.
The white liquid might be slightly inferior to 'vortex serum,' but this red liquid was presumably no worse.
Marcus cleaned the room and went to rest.
The next morning, the incident had escalated, given the large number of police officers who had witnessed it the previous night.
Around 9 a.m., Aaron's wife called Marcus in tears.
Marcus went to comfort her and then contacted St. Michael's Church.
However, he was informed that the officiating priest had been taken to the police station.
After leaving his phone number, Marcus returned to his hotel, which he then changed to another one.
"What?! My student, Reverend Thomas, was killed by a demon? And five of the church's staff are dead too?"
At the police station, the 78-year-old Father Cross's successor, with his white hair and beard and an air of wisdom, asked in a daze.
His youngest student, Thomas, though the last to join, had been there for a full 37 years; he truly treated him like a son.
Although, with the changing times, his eldest student, Father Matthew, had commercialized everything after managing the church, prioritizing money,
they usually only engaged in ceremonial performances. If the person was fine, they would say there was danger, coaxing them into donating regularly.
They hadn't done anything harmful to anyone, yet they were gone just like that.
"Are you really sure it was a demon?"
After the police confirmed that the church staff were not involved in the incident, and the elder confirmed it wasn't a murder case, he was helped back home.
In the afternoon, Marcus received a call back from the church.
"Hello, this is Father Matthew, the head priest at St. Michael's. I heard you're a relative of the person involved in this incident?"
Inside St. Michael's Church, Father Matthew had just returned when he received the report. Ignoring his grief over his colleague's death, he quickly dialed Marcus's number to inquire.
After all, they were responsible for the exorcism, handling everything from start to finish, and the price was considerable. Not only had they failed to eliminate the evil spirit, but they had also attracted it.
The old man hadn't even been laid to rest yet, and the boy had died during the ceremony they had contracted—how could they explain this?
"Yes, I am Aaron's younger brother, and Kyle's uncle, Frank Davis."
"Seven days ago, I lost my brother. Last night, I lost my only remaining relative, Kyle, whom I was grooming as my successor."
"I had St. Michael's conduct an exorcism ceremony, not a sacrifice!"
Marcus's voice on the phone was flat and cold, devoid of any emotion.
"This...this is entirely an emergency. It's possible your brother attracted evil spirits before his death. The situation is still uncertain," Father Matthew hurriedly explained.
"Give me the phone!"
Marcus heard a frail, angry voice shout from the other end of the line.
"Hello, I completely understand your feelings. I also lost my student. Don't worry, we'll compensate what we should and apologize where necessary. I am Father Samuel, their mentor. I'm the senior authority at St. Michael's, and what I say goes."
Father Samuel said sternly. Marcus's words had reminded him of his student, whom he had raised like a son, and he felt a pang of sympathy. He, who usually didn't interfere, couldn't help but reprimand his colleague, who was trying to argue.
"Father Samuel, you've misunderstood. Do you think I'm short of money to spend so much on the ceremony? I just don't want my only relative to die without knowing why!"
Marcus seemed to have calmed down because of Father Samuel's willingness to take responsibility, and his tone softened slightly.
"The police said he was killed by a female demon. Two dark practitioners perished along with her. The identities of those two have been uncovered, and the case is closed."
"You believe everything they say? I've had people investigate these past few days and found some things. It was clearly premeditated murder. Father Samuel, you just said you treated Reverend Thomas like a son. If you don't want him to die without explanation, then bring someone truly capable from St. Michael's and come here at 3 PM."
"If you think it doesn't matter that your student died, then don't come. Anyway, my nephew Kyle absolutely cannot die without explanation!"
After Marcus finished speaking, he decisively hung up the phone and sent the hotel address to Father Samuel via text message.
He had also carefully analyzed St. Michael's information and found that there must be someone truly capable there, otherwise they couldn't have grown so established. Now that Father Samuel, the senior authority, was involved, that was even better.
Marcus clenched his fists.
My nephew—Frank Davis's nephew—will never die such an unexplained death! Soul Collector, you just wait!
Three hours later, a black SUV pulled up in front of the Riverside Hotel.
The venerable Father Samuel, along with two middle-aged priests, approached the hotel reception and inquired. Father Samuel gestured for the two to wait in the vehicle while he entered the elevator alone.
He didn't want to give the impression of arriving with an entourage.
Inside room 315, the receptionist had already notified Marcus. Hearing the knock, Marcus knew Father Samuel had arrived.
Father Samuel stood at the door, carefully considering his words, trying to find a tone that wouldn't provoke the other party.
(End of Chapter)
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