World Occult Usage Guide

Chapter 291 The Leopard-Print President
"Boom!"

The helicopter plummeted downwards, leaving a long trail of black smoke streaking across the clear morning sky.

When Lin An returned to the Lambridge Grand Hotel, Misuru had just finished a massacre.

Upon seeing Lin An, a smile appeared on his blood-stained face. He casually snapped the throat of one of the area manager's guards, wiped his hand on the animal hide at his waist, and came forward.

"You killed several ordinary people who were powerless to resist." Lin An glanced at the corpses with their eyes wide open in death.

"To kill the chicken as a warning to the monkey."

Misuru kicked a tall, thin man on the ground; he was the only surviving prisoner.

"That's how the rainforest operates: punish the defeated with blood and fear to demonstrate its power. If possible, I don't mind wiping out the enemy completely."

Seeing that Lin An remained noncommittal, Misuru wisely changed the subject.

"Lin, the raid went very smoothly. The battlefield on Meyer's side has been settled. The Lion Force has taken control of the hotel's security system. Fu Bin is negotiating with the remaining staff, and Edward is doing his best to block all news."

"Very good, no wonder he's called the 'Emperor of War'," Lin An thought.

When Lin An first came to Mubanbuka, the Spotted Lion Tribe brought about two hundred people, all of whom were the tribespeople who had initially followed him and were considered his "confidants".

The temporary ministers of the six departments all came out, excluding the Rangers Misuru and Meyer, and there were five Mystics among them.

After a month of intensive training by the five instructors, the Lion's unit could only be considered to be "initially taking shape".

Lin Quan listened to Edward's report throughout the battle. The reporter subtly told him: the matchmaking mechanism was excellent, the opponent was very bad, and they were even worse. If it weren't for their mysterious connections, they would have been utterly defeated by these mercenaries long ago.

Lin An was not surprised by this. If you're bad at it, you just need to practice more. No army goes to the battlefield after only a month of training.

In the future, he plans to divide these soldiers and mystics into two separate systems that do not interfere with each other: ordinary people will fight each other, while mystics will focus on fighting among themselves.

If the two are mixed together haphazardly, it is hard to guarantee that some mysterious individuals will not suffer a mental breakdown and go insane, leading to increased pollution and mutations, causing irreparable damage to Lin An.

"What's the casualty situation?" he continued to ask Misuru.

"Wait a moment, let me ask Ding Ganga."

Under the puzzled gaze of the tall, thin man on the ground, Misuru made a strange gesture with one finger.

He first used it to brush across his eye sockets, lingering on his brow, and then moved downwards to his chest.

Ordinary people don't experience the radiation from "Commerx" and can't see the flow of energy, so Lin An's perspective is quite different.

Following the direction of Misuru's finger, a thick white circle swept across his eye socket, a red patch appeared on his forehead, and wide yellow stripes were drawn on his cheeks. Red, white, or yellow ribbons extended down his arms.

When he cast his mystical spells, the ornaments around his waist—made of softened skin from wild animals, bird feathers, dried fibers and leaves, and teeth from leopards, crocodiles, and rats—moved and rustled without wind.

This wild appearance is designed to create an effect that terrifies both ghosts and the living, hence the Bantu word "kimbulua".

Immediately, a visible knot, nkondi, appeared, binding together the invisible threads of spacetime, its end attached to Misuru's lips.

He uttered a "Nomo" that no ordinary person could learn, and the syllable followed the image of the accumulated proxy indicator to the front of the visible knot, where a wise yellow ghost appeared.

The ghost opened its mouth, and Misuru listened intently, nodded, and spoke to Lin An.

"We have suffered 3 deaths and 158 injuries, including 23 serious injuries. Lin, you may need to use the Philosopher's Stone to save them."

"Okay, I'll go in a bit."

Misuru then recounted the details of the raid through Dinganga, but the ghost's information was too fragmented, so Lin An decided to have Maye organize it later.

Previously, the administrative department was responsible for compiling reports, so it's time for her to take over the report-writing work.

Looking at Dingganga, who was conversing fluently with Misuru, Lin An recalled the "uninvited guest" who had taken up residence in his mind.

Since the Countess died, most of the ghosts have vanished along with the carpenter. The one who remains calls himself Zai, but Lin An knows he is the priest of "Stanislas Vabracombe".

Seemingly sensing Lin An's dislike, the pastor barely spoke.

"Why can't you help me gather battlefield intelligence like the Yellow Ghost of Enkitas?" Lin An asked, taking the initiative to speak.

"Lin, who are you talking to?" Misuru asked, puzzled.

"Zai," Lin An said, half answering and half calling out again, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"That 'dreamer' who disappeared without a word? Is he nearby?"

Misuru and Zai had some connection, but the latter didn't get along with anyone, so no one cared about his whereabouts and assumed he had left on his own after the war.

Lin An couldn't explain it; he didn't know how to describe Zai's condition.

He's said to be dead, but not quite; he's said to be alive, but not quite.

"under."

The pastor's calm voice rang out, reaching Lin An's auditory nerves through the soles of his feet.

"Come find me downstairs, forest ranger."

"downstairs?"

Hearing Lin An's mutterings, the tall, thin man who had been silent volunteered to speak in French.

"Sir, do you need a guide?"

Seeing this, Misuru explained to Lin An, "He is a prisoner I just captured. He looks like a leader. The other soldiers all obey his orders and call him 'General'."

"General?" Lin An sized up the man.

“I am Ogunkavo Tallinn Floresta, you can call me ‘Noho Chat (le chat noir)’.”

"Who named you the Palio de Paris nightclub?" Lin An chuckled. "Ogunkavo, are you a 'General' of the [Red Poppy Merchant Guild]?"

“No, no, no, I’m just a mercenary,” Black Cat said. “If you pay me, I’m happy to serve you, after all, my employer has already—” He gestured toward the direction of the crashed helicopter, “become a can of roast meat.”

"Ha!" Misuru laughed strangely.

“You won’t regret hiring me.” A glint flashed in the black cat’s eyes. “Salary… well, we’ll talk about that later. Let me take you downstairs first.”

Under Misuru's death stare, he swallowed the rest of his sentence, and the three of them went up the small staircase into the room.

The Lambridge Hotel has five floors. The top floor is for business offices and is exclusively for the use of the Red Poppy Chamber of Commerce. The next floor has functional rooms, and the middle two floors have about ninety rooms, which are usually open to the public and occasionally host partners of the Chamber of Commerce.

According to Black Cat, the Lambridge Grand Hotel was built by the Red Poppy Chamber of Commerce more than 30 years ago.

Through the continuous renovations by successive regional leaders, this once desolate and quiet mountain cabin has become a pillar of shame, bearing witness to the Chamber of Commerce's extravagance and debauchery.

The hotel's front yard is a Western-style garden, while the back yard features a Central Asian-style garden. Koi fish flown in from Japan swim around in a pond that covers a dozen square meters, while banana trees nearby add an incongruous touch.

Upon entering the office connected to the rooftop, Lin An's vision suddenly opened up.

The room was bright and clean, with good natural light. The burgundy pure wool carpet and curtains were from Ajitina, and the matching tables, chairs, and furniture were made of solid wood, classic yet practical. Although the expensive ornaments, paintings, and decorations had been taken by the absconding manager, this office was enough to make Lin An overjoyed.

Leaving the rainforest was the right choice.

Even for the sake of his mental well-being, he can no longer stay in the humid, hot, and "purely natural" tribe and live the primitive life.

Modern society suits me better.

Lin An almost shed tears of joy when he saw the coffee machine in the cabinet, a sight he hadn't seen in a long time.

Family!
God knows how much he suffered from acclimatization issues over the past month!
Misuru seemed at a loss, tightly clasping her arms to her sides, as if afraid that she might accidentally have her soul devoured by these glittering "monsters".

Everything made him feel unfamiliar and fearful.

When Lin An turned on the projector with a "beep," the sudden flashing light startled Misuru so much that she almost drew her bow and shot an arrow.

"We're under attack! Lin, someone's aiming at us from a distance!"

“Don’t worry, this isn’t some kind of mystical magic.” Lin An waved the remote control, gesturing for him to put down the weapon. “It’s modern technology.”

"It's always good to be on guard."

Misuru made a wary gesture, his lips moving, and the red Makira was poised to strike, tightly protecting the two from all sides. Lin An then went along with him.

The blue screen loading is complete, and various options appear.

Which one to press?

Zai had just explained the location of the remote control and projector to Lin An, and now he was instructing him on the next steps.

"Red button."

"What exactly do you want to do?" Lin An placed his finger on the remote control and said indifferently.

“Forest ranger, you once asked me a question—whether I come from a Bantu ‘family’,” Zai sighed almost imperceptibly. “My answer is: yes. And the person who is about to appear on the big screen was once one of us.”

As expected, there were regional families of mystics in Bantu. Lin An's thoughts raced, and unable to resist his overflowing curiosity, he operated the remote control as Zai instructed.

With a series of crackling sounds, the projector beam shone a video.

"Pah, pah, pah! Pah, pah, pah!"

The sound of clapping startled Misuru again. Seeing that Lin An was unmoved, he could only silently endure his discomfort, his brows furrowed as he stared at the colorful scene.

The scene along the welcoming avenue created an exceptionally festive atmosphere.

Under the scorching midday sun, thousands of civilians lined both sides of the road, wearing T-shirts printed with real photos of people, welcoming a convoy of impressive business vehicles.

The convoy drove forward, and the camera switched to the end of the avenue.

Lin An saw 22 people dressed in heavy red robes adorned with leopard skins stand up. They held high positions but faced the convoy with respectful expressions, swearing allegiance.

Behind this group of people, on the stage, sat another group of people from Nanzhou whom Lin An did not recognize. The men wore expensive watches, and the women carried designer bags that Lin An had only ever seen in luxury boutiques. They all looked very wealthy and had smiles on their faces.

As one person pushed open the car door and got in, the group of people walked past the stage one by one and embraced him.

This man, dressed in a smart green military uniform, spoke in a flamboyant and extravagant manner, exuding an innate sense of superiority, making him a striking figure.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing scream shattered the solemn celebration: "Chief! You have abandoned your faith! You have betrayed us!"

The person in the center of the stage remained expressionless, smiling broadly. A squad of fully armed soldiers rushed forward, dragged the dissenting voice away, and beat him severely. The crowd on both sides of the road also cheered.

"Get out of Bantu!"

"Go to Togo!"

"roll roll roll!"

Seeing this scene, anyone with eyes could tell who the person surrounded in the very center was.

The current president of the Bantu Khanate is Tshisekedi Kumasi.

After hesitating for a long time, Lin An uttered a guess that was about to be revealed.

"traitor?"

"Yes."

Combining Zai's ambiguous attitude when mentioning the aristocratic family, the past of the pastor's tragic death in the church, and the phrase "you have abandoned your faith," Lin An's lips twitched.

The president doesn't sound like a good person...

In the past, the powerful families he encountered preferred to remain behind the scenes and rarely intervened directly in secular politics, and there had never been a mysterious figure at the level of a head of state.

This means that if I were to clash with President Bantu in the future, I would very likely be labeled as a "rebel leader"?
This is really a headache.

I am clearly a law-abiding, ordinary college student...

"Tshisekedi possessed an extraordinary level of arrogance, and he accomplished what no previous president had: controlling large swathes of the country's territory while maintaining popular support."

The person in the projection seemed to hear Zai's words and suddenly looked at the camera. Lin An was caught off guard and met a pair of eyes that were devoid of any emotion, like empty shells.

"This is footage of him taking office as president in 2030."

"Why did you introduce this person to me?" Lin An asked, clinging to the last shred of hope.

"Ten years ago, Cicekedi betrayed us and joined a behemoth—[Black City]."

Zai's premonition was ruthlessly proven true.

"The Red Poppy Chamber of Commerce is just one of their members."

…………

Clouds drifted past the narrow window of the airplane. A refined-looking man with short, light brown hair was reading a newspaper, a poppy brooch pinned to his shirt.

"Bantu has decided to amend 32 laws related to foreign trade..."

Below the headline is a large photo of the president embracing his wife.

"Hey, hello." An off-key voice came from behind. The man paused, then looked up in confusion.

This is his private jet, why would anyone talk to him?
Upon seeing that unremarkable face, the man immediately felt a sense of impending doom. He tried to fold up the newspaper in his hand, but the other man quickly pressed it down.

"Sometimes we need to show our colleagues the right amount of care."

"I don't need your concern," the man said coldly.

"Don't be so hasty, 'Alfonso III'." The newcomer gave a strange smile. "I see that this president's face is dark, and he seems to be in danger of bloodshed... Use your star chart to see his fate, I'll pay for it."

(End of this chapter)