Chapter 103: Coercion
Amidst the crackling of fireworks and surrounded by numerous blessed volunteers,
Marcus, stepping with ritualistic movements and swaying his body, performed exorcising gestures along the way, entering the area around the large tree.
He stood at the position representing the dark point, according to the sacred geometry principle.
Brother Kane also stood at the position representing the light point.
The volunteers, playing their roles, formed a circle around them, with bells, drums, and chimes constantly sounding.
The mediums sat in meditation, chanting incantations.
The entire process lasted about an hour. In the first 10 minutes, two wisps of black mist were sucked from the crowd into the base of the tree.
For the next 50 minutes, no more black mist appeared. The mediums believed it was enough; the Soul Collector's hidden power outside should have been completely captured.
"We can start digging up the tree!"
Marcus stood in place, gesturing to the daring drivers he had already found. As long as the price was right, he could always find someone unafraid of danger.
The excavators and cranes were restarted.
The excavation was swift; the entire area was cleared in less than 20 minutes, and the tree was secured to a crane. The crane's cables tightened, and the tree was lifted from the ground and hoisted to a nearby open space.
A 16-square-meter pit remained, nearly two meters deep.
"Look! Snakes!"
"So many snakes!"
A volunteer standing on the roof of the vehicle exclaimed in surprise upon seeing the snakes crawling and writhing in the pit.
Marcus looked down and saw a snake nest in the pit, filled with crimson vipers. Underneath the nest was a cedar wood box with a blessed seal affixed to it.
The snakes wriggled and climbed upwards along the edge of the pit, seemingly trying to escape.
Marcus pulled out a handful of blessed papers and scattered them into the pit.
Brother Kane also formed a hand seal with his fingers, extending his index and little fingers, aiming them at the pit, and quietly chanted a prayer.
The crimson serpents, which were climbing, fell straight down into the pit, motionless, as if they had been dead for a long time.
Their bodies quickly turned white, and a putrid stench filled the air.
Clearly, these snakes were abnormal.
The Soul Collector's trickery seemed to be thwarted; the dead snakes twisted and contorted unnaturally as they quickly climbed back into their den, coiling up and covering it.
An invisible force emanated from the surrounding area, and among the eight mediums sitting cross-legged on the ground, Father Rodriguez's neck was suddenly gripped by an invisible hand.
His face contorted in pain as he slowly floated up.
The other mediums, however, could not leave their positions.
"Quickly use your sacred artifacts to protect him! The formation cannot be broken!" Father Goldstein shouted to Marcus.
Marcus glanced at Brother Kane, who continued his ritual movements.
He quickly went to Father Rodriguez, took out the blessed cross from his neck, and pressed it to Father Rodriguez's forehead.
It had no effect; Father Rodriguez was not possessed!
His left hand pressed down on Father Rodriguez's shoulder, the immense force preventing the priest's body from rising.
However, the old man's face turned purple and his lips white from the pulling pain; after all, he was old and his body was inherently fragile.
Marcus seemed to have thought of something; his right hand, shaped like a blade, swept across the top of Father Rodriguez's head with a whoosh. His right hand, wearing blessed iron knuckles, seemed to have severed something.
Father Rodriguez's body instantly relaxed, the rebound force causing him to slam heavily to the ground. Fortunately, Marcus reacted quickly, his left hand changing from pressing down to lifting, cushioning the impact.
Otherwise, the old man would have at least suffered a broken pelvis.
The formation was completed, and the chanting resumed.
But Father Thompson was instantly struck again, and Marcus repeated the same action.
After three repetitions, the Soul Collector seemed to realize it was useless.
No more mediums were chosen.
Brother Kane had been performing continuously for over an hour.
His body trembled slightly, especially his hands, which were shaking uncontrollably as if cramping.
He knew he was experiencing withdrawal symptoms and bit his numb tongue hard, trying to calm himself down, but he could no longer concentrate.
Beads of cold sweat dripped from his forehead.
Marcus also noticed Kane's abnormality and was considering whether to give him an injection of the serum.
A plume of black smoke flew from the direction of the police car that had once detained the town mayor and entered Brother Kane's body.
His face instantly changed, like wax melted by flame; the skin on his face became wrinkled, and black veins stretched from his neck to his temples. His eyes emitted a blood-red light.
Brother Kane, wielding the blessed sword, lunged at Marcus.
Marcus reached out and grabbed the blessed sword, kicking Kane two meters away. As Kane fell to the ground,
the red light in his eyes suddenly disappeared, turning black; he seemed to regain a sliver of consciousness.
"Quick, use it!"
Kane was about to shout, but his voice was abruptly cut off.
Marcus had already plunged the blessed sword into his stomach.
Kane stared blankly, surprised, at Marcus.
He had indeed intended to shout for Marcus to stab him with the sword, but this man was too decisive, like a seasoned hunter. He had only uttered two words before the sword pierced his body.
It felt as if this man had been prepared to do this all along!
This interrupted the self-sacrificing emotion that had been rising within him.
"Sss, splat!"
Kane was about to speak again, intending to comfort Marcus, saying it was his own choice and that Marcus shouldn't feel guilty, but before he could even open his mouth,
Marcus had already pulled out the blessed sword and stabbed again in the original wound.
The blade pierced through Kane's stomach, this time reaching the hilt.
Marcus nodded at Kane.
It seemed to be saying, "I know what you mean, you don't need to say anything more."
For some reason, Kane felt a tightness in his throat, as if the words were stuck there.
As Kane collapsed to the ground, he slowly closed his eyes and became still.
At the same time, a wisp of black mist emerged from Kane's body, and thick black smoke billowed from the snake pit below, swirling and merging with the black mist.
A large plume of smoke rose and condensed in the air, forming a black, demonic head the size of a bull.
It floated in the air, its huge, scarlet eyes staring intently at everyone, its mouth opening and closing, emitting a silent roar.
Marcus, seeing this, knew his guess was correct.
This cedar wood box only had a blessed seal attached to it, without even any moisture-proof or protective coating. Buried in the ground for five years, it was already quite good that the box and the seal were still somewhat functional.
He hadn't jumped into the pit directly to forcibly take the box because he didn't know what explosive trump card the Soul Collector had waiting for him.
In previous cases, the mayor could easily open the seal because his actions were essentially releasing the Soul Collector, who was happy to cooperate.
It turns out that the Soul Collector did indeed have hidden black mist outside, which actually resisted the summoning of eight mediums before finally possessing Brother Kane.
Marcus was working with Kane because of Kane's psychic abilities; the medium Jasmine had already been taken away by her family and was nowhere to be found.
For the Soul Collector to succeed, Kane's psychic body was definitely good bait to attract attention, and his own Reaper's Chosen destiny was also a useful catalyst.
(End of Chapter)
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