World Occult Usage Guide

"Bah."

When Mrs. Adamek grabbed Lin An's wrist, a sharp, subtle pain shot through her as she discovered a tiny thumbtack stuck to his finger, its end piercing his skin.

“Well said, but given your status and background, you shouldn’t know so much about ‘voodoo.’” Lin An withdrew his hands, and the Philosopher’s Stone spun, healing his wounds without leaving a trace. “Is that right, Boisca’s ‘Gorgon’?”

The lady laughed: "Your friend who looks like a little lamb has quite a way with things."

This was the information Edward told Lin An. He had always suspected the source of Mrs. Adamek's ever-growing wealth and weapons, and during his break, he went out to conduct a small investigation.

According to the reporter, he asked a local friend.

This man, like the crew of Bantu's Death Ferry and the employees who sheltered him at the Red Poppy Merchant Guild factory, belonged to the Southern Continent's workers' association. He shared the information with Edward, who was also a member of the union.

Based on the information he had, Lin An conducted an investigation on the dark web and identified the lady's true identity.

“Marie Gilgood Adamek, the youngest daughter of the Dorgon Gilgood family, a long-established underground arms dealer, a merchant from the Baltic Sea in the early 20th century, who possessed the wealth to buy Ivory Coast,” Lin An said.

In reality, the lady's secrecy was not particularly well-kept; it was just that most of those who knew were afraid to speak out.

However, various signs indicate that her family is not related to any aristocratic clans, and the black-clad "underground organization" that was rumored to have had secret meetings with her at night is most likely a group of subordinates sent by her maternal family.

She was just an ordinary person with a significant background who knew nothing about "Commerx".

“You might as well add another title—a foolish donkey blinded by love.” The lady sighed somewhat melancholy. “Why did I get tuberculosis when I was 16? At the most foolish age, I fell into the most mysterious trap.”

"Does your husband know your real surname?" Lin An picked up the fallen iron plate and began organizing the second set of medical records.

"He was assassinated just as I was about to confess, so he will never know me."

The lady fiddled with the black gloves with openwork lace, allowing Lin An's blood to fully seep through the fabric into his skin.

“If it weren’t for preserving his and his children’s good reputation, I would tell those gossipers in Abishon City in the same way the Gilgood family does: Shh.”

"Is that what you're trying to tell me?" Lin An glanced at her sideways.

The lady gave a meaningful smile and changed the subject: "Let's get back to what we were just discussing—using voodoo to bring my husband back to the human world."

"I'm sorry, I don't know anything about witchcraft in this area."

“I’m sorry, I don’t care. I’m just recreating a scene from six months ago for you,” the lady said. “During a public consultation at the hospital, someone demonstrated the witchcraft you were performing, which put others into a trance.”

“I didn’t pay much attention to this little disturbance, after all, I was both tired and sentimental at the time. So he came to me alone and showed me more ‘voodoo’ – although I had heard about strange phenomena happening all over the world, it was still quite shocking to see it with my own eyes.”

“Initially, he presented himself as a ‘spiritual healer,’ and his voodoo did indeed make me feel much better.” The lady unbuttoned her gloves. “After we got to know each other, he revealed to me a witchcraft that ‘summons the dead.’”

"That sounds interesting. What's the principle behind it?" Lin An asked.

"I've already said it, it's about attracting divine possession."

The lady completely removed one of her black silk gloves, revealing that her skin was no longer pale and smooth, but covered with pitted, twisted patterns.

Some of the wounds had only recently dried blood, with slightly raised scabs that made one's scalp tingle.

"First, the person being summoned must devoutly believe in the effects of voodoo and must not refuse to serve the gods out of fear of terrible consequences. Second, she must study under Master Djévò for several months until she fully understands the 'Loa' she is to serve."

"Then, she smeared her own blood on another person designated by the master, and made him sleep with Asson, the sacred rattle, for six days, while she remained completely chaste. On the seventh day, she absorbed his blood to complete the ritual."

"After everything is prepared, the master performs the ritual and receives the necessary instructions from the Loa. The predictable outcome is that the Loa descends, takes over my body, and allows me to meet my husband in a trance-like dream. Afterward, He will take your soul as a replacement."

"So you cut yourself to exchange blood with me?"

Lin An recalled the scene of his wife recruiting medical assistants; he did indeed come into contact with their blood while cleaning the wound.

"As for the rattle drum... it can be anywhere in my dorm room."

"After all, you've been admitted to my husband's clinic."

"I have only one question, Madam," Lin An said expressionlessly, "Did that master designate 'me' to be your sacrifice?"

"Our decision was based on a fortune teller's precise calculations."

“I’m so sorry, you’ve probably come to the wrong person.” Lin An spread his hands. “I don’t want to play house with you at a séance, and I don’t want to be a pretentious fortune teller again and perform ‘The Stars Are With Me’ once more.”

"It's not up to you!"

Mrs. Adamek uttered a cold Polish curse and drew her pistol from her waist and cocked it.

At the same time, Lin An beckoned with his finger, and the "Extra Weight" of "Golden Dawn" descended from the sky, pressing the lady heavily to the ground. Her thick, neatly styled black hair fell down, cascading over her back like a waterfall.

"Dangdang!"

"Take me to your 'master,' madam." Lin An picked up the bandage, shook it to loosen it, and the Philosopher's Stone's metallic properties were unpredictable, making it sometimes a soft strip of cloth and sometimes a hard iron chain, rattling loudly.

"I will take you there... but definitely not in this way!"

Mrs. Adamek curled her fingers into a ruthless smile, bent her finger, and pulled the trigger without regard for the direction she was aiming.

"Ping!"

The bullet pierced her calf, and blood immediately soaked through her black dress.

"Ok?"

Lin An's expression changed slightly, because the moment his wife was injured, a sharp pain that seemed to penetrate to the bone also shot through his calf. The unbearable mental torment climbed up his spine, making it even more painful than a simple gunshot wound.

substitute?

It is not the spiritual incarnation of JoJo, but rather a "voodoo doll" commonly seen in movies and TV shows!
According to legend, the spellcaster can connect the soul of the person being spellcast to the doll, and then use steel needles to pierce any part of the doll's body. The person being spellcast will suffer the same pain, or even ten or a hundred times greater.

Damn it, this "doll" thing is just superstition from the West, it's spreading misinformation, I'll shut it down when I get back!

Lin An gritted his teeth and went over the man's statement again.

Well, the priests on the World Tree Forum claimed that the "doll" was a fictional character created by the people of the Western Continent, but they did not deny that the "binding to the witchcraft doll" was fake, and even subtly reminded everyone that real priests never need specific props.

As for the fortune teller that Mrs. Adamek mentioned...

"Ping, ping, ping!"

Gunshots rang out continuously, and excruciating pain assaulted his nerves from every part of his body. Unable to maintain his standing posture any longer, Lin An knelt down on one knee next to Mrs. Adamek and whispered.

"Give my regards to Alfonso III Jacob van Hofwegen."

"what?"

The lady's pupils contracted as she saw Lin An fall to the ground, the weight pressing down on her immediately disappearing.

She stood up again, dusted herself off, and frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Immediately afterwards, she decided to stop thinking about it, because all she could think about was "moving him to the room where the ceremony is being held so that I can see my husband again."

Apart from that, she had no other thoughts.

…………

“Move the Ranger to the room where the ceremony is being held! That’s all Mary Gilgood Adamek could think of. If I do that, I can see my husband and find out who killed him.”

The elaborate, cursive script unique to left-handed people stops here, the pencil marks dull and shiny.

The next moment, the hazy starlight shone on the slightly worn notebook, and the drifting mist gave the words a shimmering, iridescent coating.

The writer closes his eyes, and words from the heavens flood his mind, telling an extremely abstract story "above" him. An illusory scroll unfolds, and all kinds of lights shine, bringing a wondrous grace of optical and theological co-performance.

Finally, he slowly opened his eyes, took out a pen, and traced over the sentences he had written in pencil, then slowly crossed out some of the obsolete sentences.

“It’s like writing a web novel.” Someone leaned over to Jacob van Hofwegen. “You keep revising and editing until you’ve drawn up the most ‘suitable’ plot development logic—why don’t you use a computer to write it? It’s such a waste of paper.”

“I like the traditional way; it gives me a real sense of control over my destiny,” Jacob said irritably. “Secondly, the ancient starlight guides me toward the future; please don’t compare it to the fantasies of some nerds in the library or in bed.”

"Don't be so stereotypical. Forest rangers actually really enjoy reading online novels..."

"what?"

"Just kidding, what's next?" The man's tone was full of interest and inflection, but the man could only read indifference in its eight eyes.

"I don't like your pressing tone."

"Alright, keep setting traps and catching our common prey. I'm going out for a walk." The man shrugged and turned to leave.

The footsteps faded into the distance, from being dense like raindrops to the normal alternating "tap-tap" of two legs.

The door is closed.

Jacob, who remained in the room, raised his left hand, and the pencil fell once again onto the thick paper.

"After seven days of planning, the voodoo ritual that Mary had been eagerly anticipating finally began..." (End of Chapter)