World Occult Usage Guide

Chapter 301 Half-City Riot
Two hours later, night fell at the equator.

Outside the window is a snow-white marble garden and tigers playing freely in the water. Several servants serve them fresh meat. Further away are groups of wealthy people strolling around. In the far distance, however, is a riverbank piled with garbage.

Moonlight fell on the decorative recesses of the neo-Romanesque presidential palace, gilding them with a layer of pale silver lace.

Lin An withdrew his gaze and looked at Qisekedi Kumasi, who was sitting behind an all-purpose desk. He was brewing tea with a Japanese tea set, the small cup in his large fingers like a toy.

"You must be the forest ranger."

Qisekedi poured Lin An a dark, murky tea, filled with a strange medicinal aroma.

"Let me guess, you were pushed into the limelight by the prophet, and when you achieved success, he trapped you and took your place. That 'God of Truth' likes to suddenly shoot a cold arrow and make people run around in circles without them realizing it."

Unlike the others who were living in a daze in the other time loops, Qisekedi, one of the four living gods, knew from the first glance that Lin An was not a being from this timeline.

But it's okay, in a few more hours we'll reach the end of this period.

At that time, no matter where Lin An is, he will be forcibly "teleported" back to his bed at the First Day Hotel.

"He said you were the one who stabbed me in the back." Lin An picked up the tea, a strange smell assaulting his nostrils; the tea was brownish-yellow and cloudy. "What's the black stuff?"

"Herbal medicine...and snails."

Lin An put down his teacup.

He cannot accept any cooking method for insects other than deep-frying.

“Hahaha, a specialty drink of the Bantu,” Tshisekedi laughed. “Forester, the ‘Prophet’ has truly hurt you, while I’m still chatting with you calmly. You might want to think again about whose words you should believe.”

"Is what he said not true?"

Despite saying this, Lin An was no longer interested in the grudges and feuds among the Four Living Gods.

The reason Lin An agreed to sit down was not to achieve any substantial results, but because he had already released the "Little Man in the Bottle" when he greeted the president, and it followed the energy into the presidential palace.

He used half of his consciousness to control the little man in the bottle, while using the other half to distract the president.

Zai's "Dreamer" energy enveloped the little man like a veil, allowing him to move freely through a parallel world hidden beneath the water's surface, navigating the intricate corridors and rooms with ease.

“Yes, I killed the ‘witch’ and the ‘magician’ because they interfered in my life and forced me to make my ancestors’ goals my own, even though the revival of the Bantu was already an unrealistic dream.”

The president twirled his pen, making circles and marks in a notebook.

"I want to break free from the shadow of the old era, I want to live for myself, is that wrong?"

"You work for the established families of the Western Continent."

"A new era has arrived, and they are synonymous with privilege. I'm getting involved so that I won't become a slave to some king again. It's only natural that people look out for themselves."

"Being selfish is one thing, but I don't understand why you would reignite the ethnic hatred left by the Flemish people, plunging the Bantu into an endless civil war. What's the point of that for you?"

“We need to scare the people occasionally, which will make it easier for them to remember my name, but I have never thought about letting the Bantu people kill each other. Perhaps some extremists want to do that, but that is wrong, and I strongly oppose it.”

"You didn't give orders to massacre civilians?"

“Never,” Tshisekedi said with a smile. “Even if they don’t support me, that’s their right. As long as they remember me, Tshisekedi Kumasi is their president, that’s enough.”

“The fact is that many ordinary people were killed.” Lin An stared at the watch hanging loosely on the president’s wrist, counting down the seconds.

"The chain of power... means that I can control my army, but I can't control civilian agitators and extremists. My officers and I do not support policies of violence. That chaos was entirely organized by a coalition of civilians and extremist commanders."

Tshisekedi evaded responsibility without leaving a trace, shifting blame onto others and using the end goal to excuse the means.

"When elephants fight, they inevitably trample the grass."

"Crash..."

The view of the "little man in the bottle" fluctuated; it stood before a large oak door.

The flowers on both sides of the entrance are vibrant and beautiful, and the air is filled with the refreshing fragrance of incense, accompanied by the faint sound of flute music and dance.

The servants were all women, and the room appeared to be for women.

The "Dreamer" energy surrounding the figure in the bottle trembled violently, the fluctuation originating from the other side of the room.

David said that the president's only redeeming quality was his unwavering devotion to his wife. Was there some hidden reason behind this?
"Crench."

A short-haired young woman pushed open the door and came out, carrying a tablet as thin as a cicada's wing, dressed in a professional white-collar outfit.

The incongruous atmosphere suggested that she was a mysterious figure.

As she passed the corner where the little man in the bottle was hiding, the poppy brooch flashed and disappeared, making the man's identity obvious.

Employees of the Kinsasha office of the Red Poppy Chamber of Commerce.

Kevin mentioned that there are three legendary figures here, and she is one of them.

Even as her figure disappeared down the corridor, Lin An could still feel the persistent energy fluctuations that had recognized him, indicating that the person who had found him was still in the room filled with the fragrance of the women.

Does this mean there are two "source-level" officials in the Presidential Palace?
After a moment's thought, Lin An instructed the alchemical creature to follow the female office worker.

"Tick."

Time ticked by, and seeing that Lin An had not responded for a long time, the president asked in a loud voice.

"I too was once trapped by the prophet's mystical arts, but I appeared unharmed at the presidential inauguration... Don't you want to leave?"

"What's the price?"

“We have some grudges against the ‘Prophet,’ don’t we?” Tshisekedi clasped his hands together. “As the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“They are also potential enemies,” Lin An said calmly.

Tsycee's face darkened: "Mr. Ranger, you've put me in a difficult position."

"Is it difficult to do it? Then don't do it!"

Lin An suddenly sprang to his feet, kicking over the table and spilling dark tea all over the floor. A deep pit appeared beneath Tshisekedi's presidential chair, its powerful pull like a magnet gripping his soul. A piercing pain pierced his very bones, and the president plummeted toward death like a thin leaf.

Sacrifice to the gods of the underworld!

Tshisekedi remained calm, his eyes slowly turning a dark green, and he resembled a life-sized candle, melting with a smile.

The grease rolled around under Lin An's feet, and something tingling and itchy crawled up his trouser legs. He spun the Philosopher's Stone and flew into the air, but felt a pressure coming from both above and below, squeezing him in the middle.

"cough!"

Lin An coughed violently, smashing through the glass of the president's room and flying out the window, thus escaping the fate of being almost crushed into a meat patty.

Is this the mystery of Tshisekedi?

I clearly hit him, so why didn't it work?
Lin An frowned. When he hit the president, the feedback from the Hittite ritual felt like tearing apart an empty shell without a soul.

Like the prophet, was Tshisekedi also a dead man?
No, even in "death," the soul of the mystic will not dissipate—which is why mystical arts that directly affect the soul seem so terrifying.

"Uuuuuu——"

As the sirens blared, chaos erupted at the Presidential Palace, and thousands of guards, armed with rifles and cannons, rushed in from all directions.

Those soldiers were not puppets controlled by the mystic, so it seems that Qisekedi was not the Emperor of War.

This is good news.

Lin An observed that, centered on the Presidential Palace, thick, dense palm leaves and netting extended out, and the energy of "Comers" formed a layer of "lichen" on the ground.

strangeness……

The characteristic patterns of palm trees multiply like fungi, climbing up everything in sight in the blink of an eye—garden benches, the statue in the center of the fountain, the presidential garden sculpture.

Within five seconds, the entire world, except for those who were calling for Lin An's death, was ruled by this strange palm leaf.

"Intruder, I will kill you!"

"How dare you cause trouble at the Presidential Palace! Get out of here right now!"

"You have harmed the President, you are the mortal enemy of the entire Bantu! Long live the President! Long live Tshisekedi Kusima!"

With bloodshot eyes, the soldiers chased after Lin An, who flew by, shouting as he narrowly escaped bullets, shells, and even an RPG missile. Although he was not injured, the crackling sound nearly deafened him.

To confirm the president's mysterious range and distance, Lin An ignored the group of rabid guards and flew straight out of the presidential palace, landing in the wealthy district.

"Ah! The wizard is killing someone!"

His arrival startled the residents, who fled in panic. Only an old woman wearing reading glasses stood there, patting her aching back, pushing up her cloudy glasses, and speaking incoherently.

"Could you... pick out my dentures, please..."

"for you."

Lin An picked up the dentures and handed them to the old woman. She shakily took out a handkerchief to wipe the dust off, and then muttered complaints to Lin An.

"Why do you think young people these days are unwilling to..."

While giving perfunctory answers, Lin An paid attention to the patterns on the palm leaves, which surged in like a rising tide, engulfing the streets of the Gombe district where he was located in less than a minute.

"You're so kind, young man—"

When the old lady got excited, she went up to Lin An and grabbed his arm, trying to take something out of her pocket to give him.

The old woman shuddered as the palm leaf grid passed over the bricks beneath her feet.

"What's wrong?" Lin An asked.

The next moment, the seemingly kind old lady suddenly changed her expression, her thin arms gripping Lin An tightly, and she started yelling loudly.

"You—you are an anti-presidential element! Someone come quick! Shoot him! Long live the president!"

At the same time, the residents who had been hiding peeked out from all directions. They had abandoned their timidity and were now united in their hatred of the enemy, holding weapons and shouting slogans in unison.

"Get out! Get out of Kinsasha!"

"Shoot! Execute! Tear by chariot!"

"Long live the President! Long live the President! Long live Tshisekedi Kusima!!!"

The sound of unity and concerted effort soared into the sky like a war cry, causing the earth to tremble. Every resident who had never met Lin An before stared at him with bloodshot eyes, unblinking.

If looks could kill, Lin An felt he would be crushed into dust by this group of people.

He shoved the old man aside, turned, and flew into the sky.

The violent voice lingered in his ears, like a shadow. Lin An immersed his consciousness in the little figure in the bottle, synchronizing his vision with itss.

Great, it's not far from me...

The riot swept through half of Kinsasha, with people marching after a fleeing human figure, furiously throwing all sorts of things at him, including leftovers and rotten eggs.

Lin An easily dodged the crowd's attacks and stopped next to an office building that was more than ten stories high.

The woman behind the floor-to-ceiling window looked at him suspiciously; she was a white-collar worker from the Red Poppy Chamber of Commerce office.

"System, use [You shall be punished]!" Lin An pointed his finger at the female office worker's forehead without hesitation.

Complex and intricate Hebrew text rose from the ground, transforming into a gallows around her neck, which suddenly tightened.

"Crack!"

The light faded from her eyes, and the female office worker collapsed, her eyes wide open in death.

Time, like an ouroboros biting its own tail, slips into an endless cycle once more.

(End of this chapter)