World Occult Usage Guide

Chapter 315 The Chief is Dead; Long Live the Chief (Part 1)
Logically speaking, when Lin An obtained the data of a mysterious person, the system should be able to accurately display the data regardless of the person's location, whether he was dead or alive, invisible or a clone.

No manual operation is required from Lin An; this is a fully automated reading process.

Is Tshisekedi a fake?
Lin An entered a state of mental relaxation. The president's light spot was indeed different from what he had seen in the time fragments, but it was undoubtedly a high-rated mystery.

"Brother Tongzi, is your display broken?"

"My data is accurate, please don't always doubt me," the system replied indifferently.

"always?"

Lin An suspected that the system had been thrown into a time fragment, but he didn't expect that the guy would still remember it.

Wait a minute, didn't the Duke say that the current system has no personality and is just a pure tool?

"Holding a grudge is a fairly human emotion."

"What I mean is, should we always keep these options and not ask again?" the system explained.

With no time to consider the system's anomaly, Lin An looked at Qi Sekedi.

Why a funeral?

"I am about to die."

This made Lin An even more puzzled. Although Qisekedi looked disheveled and weak, his light spots were active and bright, not like someone who had suffered a major injury.

Where are your trusted confidants?

"Kinsara is trying to win over the people who support me."

The president maintained a smile throughout, writing and drawing on a stack of printed paper with a pen, talking to Lin An while demonstrating his ideas to himself.

“I’m writing a book about my experiences in the war; it’s kind of an autobiography.” He showed a stack of worn notebooks, with important passages marked in yellow or circled in ballpoint pen.

The president's almost pathological composure left Lin An at a loss for what to do.

Three days ago, Lin An specially convened a meeting of all members of World Tree to discuss the matter. He took the lead in stating that he would never become the president of Bantu, but that obtaining this position would definitely help the development of World Tree.

Taking the Four Living Gods as an example, their previous governance model was to elect an internal member as the apparent president, who would then manipulate the external situation, thus preventing more irrelevant people from knowing about the existence of the mysterious figure while still controlling the fate of the country.

“Actually, Misuru is a better presidential candidate; he also has experience governing the lion tribe,” Lin An suggested.

"The experience of a hands-off manager," Mayer chuckled softly.

"Lin, is that what you think? Then I will certainly not let you down." Misuru was flattered.

Apart from his sisters, the higher-ups of the World Tree had no objections. If a ruler had to be chosen from among the Rangers, it would indeed be Misuru.

At this moment, Lin An looked at the calm and composed Tshisekedi: "You decide on the ending of my autobiography. My companion is about to participate in the presidential election."

“Even if I lose my ‘territory’ and ‘nation,’ no one in Bantu has ever beaten me.” The president twirled his pen to himself. “Even if I get less than 30% of the vote, I can still win the election.”

The palm tree patterns that previously covered Kinsasha were called "territory," while what was spread through the concept of "I am a Bantu" was called "nation." Lin An thought.

Why did Kesekdi lose these two abilities?
If it's described as a sequela, that would be terrifying.

“I have been president for eight years. People support me not because of how well I have done, but because they are used to seeing my picture every day and saying ‘Good morning, Mr. President!’ My opponents, however, are unable to unite, which will lead to a split in their votes.”

The president smiled noncommittally, his eyes calm, but unlike when he was distinguishing between male and female, Lin An felt that there was a strong and terrifying despair hidden in them.

"On a side note, Ranger, your appearance reminds me of some fragmented memories—you came to my office through the 'God of Truth' a long time ago."

Lin An's eyes narrowed. The chieftain hadn't been "invited" by the prophet, yet he retained his memories?

Unsurprisingly, this is the eternal nature of the "Lady with the Lamp" at work. Although Tsycee cannot synchronize past events with the present timeline, unlike ordinary mystics, he retains a sense of déjà vu.

This sense of déjà vu will be activated by a familiar fragment in reality.

Fortunately, Lin An had anticipated this, and even in the unattended fragments of time, he was cautious in his words and actions, and did not explore or leave any traces.

“Just as I thought.” Tshisekedi put down his pen. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone, not only… but also because I admire you. If I had to choose a successor between the Prophet and you, I would not hesitate to sponsor you to be the victor.”

"Thank you for your recognition, but I don't want to write 'I served as the president of the Bantu Kingdom' in my resume's work experience section in the future."

Upon hearing Lin An's words, Qi Sekedi covered the lower half of his smiling face with his hand and stared at him with a half-mad look in his eyes.

"We've experienced a comfortable life, a warm fire, and a beloved woman by the fire. If anyone tries to stop me from continuing this life, I will fight back without hesitation. Not like the prophet, who turns the other cheek when slapped on the left."

"The miracle did not make Pharaoh spare the Hebrews. All the firstborn sons of Egypt were punished, from the princes on the throne to the prisoners in the dungeons. So the next day Pharaoh released them. See, yielding will never be the way of the world."

"If humans didn't fight for food, they would still be competing with hyenas and monkeys for food in the rainforest. That's why I despise cowards and would rather watch them be trampled to death. I also hate the shirking and cowardice of my ancestors. I feel no pride in them."

The president proudly patted his chest, listing his past achievements to temporarily soothe his soul from the vortex of defeat. "I am not a vessel for the ghosts of my ancestors, but the Bantu president Tshisekedi Kumasi! As long as human history exists, my name will never be erased from the books! The Bantu will always remember me, remember that I ruled them for eight long years!"

"Long live! Long live! Long live!"

Before he could finish speaking, the sound of brakes broke the silence.

Looking out the window, Lin An saw jeeps and buses coming from all directions, driving into the flat road like a black river, with soldiers escorting them in tanks.

The car was packed with people, while a close confidant from the presidential palace, with bloodshot eyes, stood on the roof.

They raised megaphones and roared at the top of their lungs, the sound echoing across the empty sky and crashing everywhere.

"Tshisekedi Kumasi was the 26th president of the Bantu! He created brilliance in his era! He led the Bantu into the next era! We will forever remember his achievements!"

Someone leaned out of the car window and mustered the courage to speak up in rebuttal.

"Let us leave!"

"I want to vote for someone else! No, I'm abstaining!"

"Tshisekedi was not a good president! Never!"

The people forcibly confined in the vehicle by the soldiers included men and women, young and old; some were dressed in rags, while others were dressed in fine clothes. Their pale faces trembled under the gun barrels and bayonets, and the few who resisted were immediately shot dead.

“Bantu doesn’t seem to remember you for long,” Lin An commented.

"get off!"

The soldiers roughly opened the car doors, and within minutes, the square was teeming with people, numbering at least ten thousand.

“It’s not up to them to decide.” Tshisekedi stood with his hands behind his back, sunlight filtering through the blinds and casting dappled light on his face. A sinister smile appeared on his face in the shadows. “Cowards have no choice.”

Familiar palm trees and netting formed lichen-like patterns on the ground, creeping up everything in sight from the president's office outwards.

In an instant, the group of timid people in the square became excited, raising flags with their cronies bearing the bust of Tshisekedi, repeating their words in loud voices, over and over again, deafeningly.

"Tshisekedi Kumasi was the 26th president of the Bantu! We will forever remember his achievements!"

Lin An had witnessed this mysterious art before. As long as one sets foot on the land with the palm pattern, ordinary people will be controlled by Qi Sekedi, losing their ability to think independently and making it their mission to achieve his goals.

The so-called "territory".

As for his other ability, Lin An observed the state of his confidants and soldiers and always felt that they were still being controlled by the "Kingdom".

If that's the case, why did Tshisekedi withdraw his control over Mbambuka?
The next moment, the president suddenly let out a strange roar. Lin An looked at him with surprise and uncertainty. In the afternoon light, the latter’s body instantly turned into a straight palm tree.

The tree trunk grew wildly as if unattended, and soon reached the ceiling, which was about five meters high.

"bump!"

The sound of a solid collision rang out, and Lin An's pupils contracted.

He had seen the scene of Tshisekedi transforming into a towering palm tree in the fragments of time, but like the prophet's giant serpent, it was a soul form, not a physical body.

But the sound of the collision just now proves that Tshisekedi is undergoing a real distortion.

The pollution level is off the charts?
So easy?

A flash of inspiration struck Lin An, and he pieced together the clues that had led to their meeting.

The system-displayed panel, the calm yet despairing expression on Zisekedi's face, and the untouchable primal mystery...

It turns out that Tsysekdi's weakness was not due to some mysterious aftereffect, but rather because he had been grafted by the "Mother of Desire" during these past few days!

Therefore, his data changes, and once he uses the original mystery, his level of contamination will skyrocket!

That unknown "Mother of Desire" is the legendary Matrix!

Unlike Doris, whose offspring were grafted, Lin An only knew that the mother could graft mysticism, which was below her own rating, onto her offspring.

Who is this person?

What is his purpose?
If I kill Tshisekedi, will...?

Lin An's alarm blared, but reality gave him no time to hesitate. The strange roar came again from Zisekdi, who had transformed into a palm tree and lost his mind.

A crack appeared on his back, and something was wriggling and growing inside.

(End of this chapter)