The days of being a spiritual mentor in Meiman.

Chapter 4257 Possession by an Evil Spirit (Thirty-Seven)

The officer paused, looking Kent up and down. Kent hadn't changed his clothes or tidied himself up properly. He'd been scrambling around in the basement, covered in dirt and grime. Normally, the police station wouldn't see someone like this, as they're likely a hallucinating addict. And the fact that he wanted to see the sheriff right away was indeed very strange.

However, Kent was so handsome that his current disheveled appearance had a unique charm. The only superpower the system couldn't control was his good looks. The police officers genuinely couldn't believe that someone so handsome could be a drug-addled lunatic.

He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. After a pause, he said, "The sheriff is out on patrol. Why don't you wait a bit?"

“Okay.” Kent didn’t say anything else and sat down in the chair in the reception area. Whether the officer was blinded by lust or simply horrified, he poured Kent a glass of water and then asked, “You have something to give to the sheriff. What is it?”

“We had some leads on some cases that we had arranged beforehand,” Kent said. “However, my friend ran into some trouble before I came. His car got stuck in the mud, and it took us a long time to get it out. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have missed our agreed time.”

The officer suddenly realized and said, "Oh, I see. But I haven't heard that the sheriff met with anyone."

Kent looked around and lowered his voice, saying, "I'm a reporter."

The officer looked at him with some surprise, then sized him up before saying, "You do look like someone from a big city. Where are you from? Los Angeles?"

"I'm from the East Coast, but I won't reveal which city. Don't ask too many questions, or you'll just be asking for trouble."

The officer nodded and returned to his seat. He now believed what Kent had said. Mainly, people like Clark Kent didn't really look like poor people.

Kryptonians are known to be invulnerable to weapons, so even if he worked the land his entire life, his hands wouldn't develop calluses. The harsh weather of Kansas wouldn't actually turn him red-necked. His skin was smooth and radiant, his hair black and shiny without falling out, his back ramrod straight, his face handsome, and his eyes resolute. For an ordinary human, maintaining such an appearance would require a tremendous amount of money and time. So even though he looks a bit disheveled now, these details still reveal that he must have lived a life of luxury.

As for why the sheriff wanted to meet with a reporter from the East Coast, that was beyond the scope of a lowly intern like him to ask. However, the more vague the explanation, the more room there was for speculation. Police officers meeting with reporters rarely meant anything good; if he asked too many questions, he'd be the one in trouble.

A while later, the sheriff returned. He paused for a moment when he saw Kent. Kent, however, stood up, walked over, shook hands with the sheriff, and said, "Hello. I emailed you earlier. I think we can discuss the underground water system further. I've brought everything you asked for. Shall we go to the office to discuss it in detail?"

The sheriff immediately narrowed his eyes. Kent not only didn't avoid his gaze, but stared intently into his eyes. The sheriff pursed his lips, and after a long while, finally walked into the police station, saying, "Come with me."

Once inside the sheriff's office, the sheriff sat down, poured himself a cup of coffee, and sighed helplessly, saying, "When that new kid headed over there, I knew it wouldn't be good. Tell me, what happened?"

Kent paused for a moment, but still took a ring out of his pocket and placed it on the sheriff's desk. He had keenly caught the sheriff's pupils shrinking for a split second.

It wasn't a particularly expensive diamond ring; it was just an ordinary silver band. The inside of the band was engraved with the surname "Stuart," and the name tag hanging on the left side of the sheriff's uniform read "Sheriff Stuart."

He reached out and carefully picked up the ring. Kent could see his fingertips trembling slightly, and his Adam's apple bobbing. But then, as if remembering something, he tossed the ring onto the table.

He shook his head, then leaned back and said, "Whatever you want, I can't give it to you. It's not just between you and me, you understand?"

"Of course I understand. But how are you going to get your new wife to accept that you're just going to abandon her and the child in her womb like this?"

The sheriff clenched his fist. He looked up, staring intently at Kent. Kent nodded and said, "She was pregnant. But the child didn't come. Your two children died with her in a dark, damp basement. I can't tell the cause of death; all I know is that all four of her limbs were broken, and there was a deep wound on the child's skull..."

"Enough!" The sheriff jumped to his feet. "What do you want me to do?! When she disappeared, I tried everything. But...but..."

He stood there, panting heavily, then slumped back onto the table, saying weakly, "I know you might find it hard to believe, but we're not fighting people, we're fighting real demons. They're everywhere. Compared to them, we're too weak to do anything."

“I’m not here to blame you,” Kent sighed. “I know you’re the last person who wanted this to happen. After all, your new wife and child died there, so you’re one of the victims. And that thing is really hard to deal with; even as a sheriff, there’s probably not much you can do.”

“I’ve come here to tell you two things. First, your wife knows you feel guilty. She wants to tell you it’s okay. And she asked me to bring this ring back. Second, I need very little, and it’s definitely not beyond your means. After I leave, you can completely pretend I was never here. Whatever happens afterward is none of your business. How about that?”

The sheriff took a deep breath, placed his hands on the table, leaned forward, and looked at Kent, saying, "I know you must be from a big city. Coming to our small town, there are so many things you can't stand. You'll try your best to solve them, and you may have helped a lot of people. That gives you the illusion that you can punish evil and promote good. But what happened in that small town is completely different."

“Over the years, countless people have entered the town under various pretexts. Like that new police officer before. His wife had relatives living in that town, so they went there and never came back.”

“At first, I tried my best to remind them. But it didn’t work at all. Later I realized that if I insisted on going my own way, I would surely die.”

“I admit I’m a coward. My wife and children died in this small town, but I couldn’t even find out the truth. I watched so many innocent people disappear from the town, and I didn’t dare to say a word. I don’t want to make excuses for myself, but I’ve known since I was a child that living in a small place like this means there are too many things you have to abide by. If you don’t keep your eyes closed, many things more terrible than death will come your way. I don’t want to become like that.”

Kent realized that the sheriff must know a lot, but he was afraid to say it. After thinking for a moment, he said, "You probably thought what I said before was just to comfort you, like that your wife forgave you. You don't really believe that I saw her."

“I believe you found something in town,” the sheriff said, looking him in the eye. “Perhaps you saw her remains, perhaps you saw many more bodies. But that’s not a success. Kid, your nightmare may have just begun.”

Kent didn't say much to him and simply took the camera off his neck. The ghost photo he had taken earlier was long gone, and the camera was out of power; it wouldn't start up at all.

He handed the camera to the sheriff and said, "Try this."

The sheriff didn't answer. He shook his head and said, "I know you might have taken some photos. But none of them can be used as evidence, and they can't be released. He won't let you succeed..."

"No. I mean, I want you to try using this camera. Pick it up and take a picture. You can take a picture anywhere."

Kent persisted, and the sheriff, unable to dissuade him, finally picked up the seemingly broken camera. Miraculously, the screen lit up the instant he touched it.

The sheriff raised his camera and snapped a picture of a random spot. Just as his eyes left the lens, he saw on the digital screen below that a blurry female figure was staring at him from next to Kent's shoulder in the photo.

"Oh God!"

With a "thud," the sheriff threw the camera away. He was panting heavily, leaning back in his chair, his whole body trembling.

“Now you should understand what I’m talking about,” Kent said. “You should also consider that if there are devils in this world, then there must also be angels and God. You can’t deal with devils simply because you haven’t found the right method. Isn’t that right?”

The sheriff stood there for a while before he dared to slowly sit up straight: "My God! My goodness... that... that is..."

“Don’t rush me,” Kent said. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m a dispatcher at the Westville Emergency Center. Yes, my office isn’t far from here. For the past few days, I’ve been getting a harassing call at the same time every day. There’s a woman’s voice pleading for help on the phone, and in the background, there’s a circus advertisement. That’s how I located Great Valley. Do you have any leads on this?”

The sheriff opened his mouth, instinctively still not wanting to speak, but the scene he had just witnessed seemed to have traumatized him too much. He frequently glanced at Kent's side, perhaps out of guilt, or perhaps out of fear. He sighed and said, "The Flying Angel 'Satrian,' the founder of the Qile Circus. Twelve years after the circus was founded, she and her family were found dead in their home in Great Valley. That was the first heinous murder in the town. We call it the 'Great Valley Massacre.'"