I am a necromancer, and I absolutely love America.

"Ugh—" Zachary gagged, curled up on the ground like a shrimp, vomiting violently.

But he hadn't eaten anything properly for the past few days, so he couldn't vomit anything at all.

Stomach acid surged from his throat, burning his throat, and the spasms from the excruciating pain rendered him unable to speak.

It took him several minutes to recover before Mike grabbed him and slammed him against the wall again.

Mike sneered:

"You took my money and you dare to hide from me? Believe me or not, I'll throw you in the industrial jail for a few days and let you enjoy yourself there!"

The industrial zone prison holds many members of the Blood Hand Gang. Zachary has a conflict with the Blood Hand Gang, and if he is sent there, he will definitely be dealt with severely.

Zachary turned pale with fright:

"No! Please don't! Believe me! I'm not hiding from you! A few days ago, Big Yellow Teeth framed me for stealing his goods! I had to lay low!"

"Be smart!" Mike sneered, pulled a cold hamburger from his pocket, and shoved it into Zachary's hand.

Zachary's eyes lit up, and he grabbed the hamburger and started eating it, wolfing it down.

"Is there any water?"

Mike said impatiently:

"Isn't it raining?"

Zachary shamelessly said:

"Good idea."

Zachary finished his hamburger in two bites, then picked up the cigarette butt from the ground and started smoking again.

Mike sniffed:

"You only smoke such garbage stuff?"

After saying that, he took out a pack of hand-rolled cigarettes from his pocket and threw it directly at Zachary, which he had just snatched from another group of people.

Zachary took a sniff.

"Top quality goods!"

He lit it with a broad smile and took a deep drag.

"Mike, what's up?"

Mike squatted down next to him: "Listen, go find out something for me."

He pointed to a point on the phone map:

"There was a hit-and-run accident on this street corner last Tuesday. A woman was injured, but she's gone. I need you to find witnesses who took the woman away, or her body. She was wearing this dress at the time."

Mike placed a photo of the LV dress in front of Zachary.

Zachary glanced at it and grinned mischievously:

"Which big shot's mistress has run off with the money this time?"

Mike said coldly:

"It's none of your business, don't ask any more questions."

Zachary said nonchalantly:

As he spoke, he eagerly lit a cigarette and squinted his eyes to enjoy it.

Mike put on his rain hood and stepped into the rain; his voice came from within the rain:

"I have little patience. If I come to you next time and you don't tell me anything, you know what will happen."

"Don't worry, don't worry, you know, there's nothing that happens in this neighborhood that I, Zachary, don't know about." Zachary took a deep breath and then relaxed and slumped against the wall.

"Phew~"

A silly grin spread across his face, and he felt even the cold, damp air become refreshing.

……

Richard walked to the eaves of the foyer of St. Carlisle Church, folded his umbrella, and rubbed off the raindrops.

He carried his umbrella through the front hall and into the dimly lit main hall.

Perhaps because of the rain, there were few worshippers in the main temple even during the day, so only a few lights were on.

A dozen or so homeless men, some of them quite old, lay sprawled on an old wooden bench.

Most of the homeless people were coughing or breathing rapidly, so they were probably sick.

It seems the priest here is a kind-hearted man, allowing the homeless to rest here.

Richard put on a mask and walked through the crowd; no one paid any attention to his actions.

He walked out of the main hall through a side door. The walls on both sides were covered with dark green vines. Not far away was a small window with a narrow lattice window that was pitch black inside. It must be the confessional.

Next to the confessional was the priest's office—the sacristy. Although the items were old, the lighting was excellent. Richard glanced around; the priest wasn't there.

Richard walked into the somewhat desolate backyard, where the stone slabs were cracked and weeds grew rampant.

In another corner of the courtyard stood a small clock tower; the clock had stopped, and the minute hand was drooping.

Richard, holding an umbrella, walked to the clock tower. The entrance was a rusty iron gate with an old brass lock hanging on it. A vine was wrapped around the gate, and it was unclear how long it had been since it had been opened.

Richard looked down and saw that the deathly aura was solidified, right below the clock tower!

"Ding! New mission issued: [Ancient Cemetery] Explore the ancient cemetery and find out the origin of the wronged child's spirit."

An ancient cemetery? The wronged souls of children? Richard seemed lost in thought.

The mission name and mission details gave him a basic idea that the corpses inside dated back to the time of the Native American boarding school.

The westward expansion occurred in the late 18th century when the federal government enacted the Indian Removal Act, forcibly evicting Native Americans. This led to the systematic massacre of Native Americans and their relocation to reservations. The infamous "Trail of Tears" also took place during this period.

According to information online, this building was constructed during that period.

In other words, most of what's below should be the remains of Native American children.

They killed the parents, pretended to adopt children, and then killed them in large numbers.

This behavior is so pirate-like.

The system notification sounded again:

"Ding! You have found the origin of the wronged spirit. Please continue your exploration."

Is that all?

Richard's lips curled into a slight smile.

This is one of the benefits of the information age.

He glanced once more at the tightly locked iron gates of the clock tower. It was definitely inconvenient to go in during the day; he would come back at night.

Richard felt someone was watching him.

He turned his head and saw a kind-looking priest standing under the eaves, smiling at him.

The priest was small in stature, only about 170 cm tall, and looked to be in his early 30s. He had kind eyes, and Richard did not sense any malice from him.

The priest walked over and smiled:

Good day, my friend, may peace be with you and me.

Richard responded:

May peace be with you and me.

The priest smiled and said:

"I am Father Calvin. You look unfamiliar and don't seem like a tourist. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Richard," Richard asked, feigning curiosity.

"I work part-time at the Nancy Health Center, and I came over to check out this church. What's inside?"

Calvin said indifferently:

"An abandoned bell tower; the church didn't have enough money for repairs, so it had to be abandoned."

Richard carefully observed the pastor's eyes. His gaze was calm, not like he was lying, and there was no sense of wariness.

Calvin probably didn't know there was an underground mass grave here.

He was only in his thirties, and probably hadn't been in charge of this place for long, so he probably hadn't even paid much attention to the clock tower.

Richard sighed:

"That's such a waste."

Calvin smiled and said:

"If you want to come, you can wait until a sunny day. It's raining today, and you might get your shoes wet. Everyone is sick, so please don't infect you."

Thank you.

Calvin ignored him and let him continue wandering around the church while he returned to the main hall.

Richard waited until he could no longer feel Calvin's gaze before releasing his magical hand.

The magic hand passed through the iron gate, and the scene on the first floor of the clock tower came into Richard's view.

The small room was unremarkable, containing some miscellaneous items and covered in dust. The wooden floor was rotten in many places.

A narrow stone staircase spirals down to the second floor, and below the stairs is a small cubicle filled with miscellaneous items.

Beneath the heavy wooden floor beneath the clutter, there is a dark passage leading straight underground.

The vision of the Magic Hand is not pure vision. If it is inside an object, Richard sees chaos; if it is in an open space, it sees darkness.

There was clearly an underground passage beneath the floor, but it was beyond the limits of the Magic Hand, and the ancient cemetery below could not be seen.

Richard withdrew his magical hand and returned to the main hall of the church, where Father Calvin was distributing food to the homeless.

Bagged bread, canned chickpeas, and some cola.

Richard stepped forward to help.