Exorcist's Self-Cultivation

Chapter 70 070, Out of Control (Please bookmark and recommend)

As his fingertips touched the white mask, what came back was a chilling sensation, tinged with a coldness.

The material of the mask was unclear, but its whiteness was striking.

On the table, the mask lay quietly to one side, while Du Wei flipped open the diary.

At the same time.

Creeeeak...Nôv(el)B\\jnn

A grating sound of wooden structures friction that set one's teeth on edge arose.

Du Wei turned his head, calmly watching as an invisible hand seemed to slowly close the door.

Even without being in Spirit Vision, he could clearly feel a sinister presence slowly enveloping him.

It was the Evil Spirit...

Just like the first night, the feeling was exactly the same as the one brought by the two evil spirits in his home.

It was certain that something had come in.

Du Wei took a deep breath, withdrew his gaze, and pulled open his backpack. He pulled out a bottle of bone powder and sprinkled it around himself. If the Evil Spirit intended to attack him, at the very least, it could serve as an early warning.

Then, he lowered his head to read the diary.

On the first page, there was a signature—Mike Stowe.

The second page revealed his identity—Mr. Mina's husband, Kelly's father.

Flipping further through, there were bits of everyday triviality with no particular information.

But what surprised Du Wei was the secret he discovered about Mike Stowe.

He was inhumane.

Kelly was adopted by him and Mrs. Mina, solely to ease the impending dissolution of their marriage.

"No wonder there was only one blanket in the bedroom, and I didn't see any men's belongings; they must have not slept together for a long time."

Du Wei continued to quickly leaf through the pages.

Soon, the diary entry from March 18th caught his attention; it was about the Golden Brooch.

...

[I know what it wants now, it wants to come out and take over my body, but it seems to be constrained somehow. I think I can still fight it for a while, so I plan to kill someone, to complete a sacrificial ritual.]

...

[April 29...]

[The sacrifice was a fat man. When I cut open his veins, I found myself trembling with excitement, as if I had returned to the time when I joined the Veda Sect, wild and unrestrained, like slaughtering a pig.]

[Written at midnight: I feel fantastic now. After the sacrificial ritual was completed, it became much quieter, but somehow, whenever I look at myself in the mirror wearing the mask, there's this unfamiliar, strange feeling. It's like I'm no longer myself, but then again, what does that matter?]

...

[May 03...]

[I am in great condition, working normally during the day, maintaining the image of a husband and father, while at night, I go out to perform sacrificial rituals. I seem to have adapted to this life.]

...

[May 06...]

[I can't stop now, the sacrifices seem to be having less and less effect on it. According to the records of the Veda Sect, I should sacrifice my relatives... Kelly, or Mina.]

...

[May 12...]

[I've made a decision and have drawn a hexagram under Kelly's bed. It's not satisfied, I know it is targeting me, then Mina, and Kelly is only the last resort, but the sacrificial ritual has started, and I cannot stop now.]

...

At this point, the diary ends.

Du Wei's expression turned very cold, Mike Stowe's diary deepened his disgust for cultists. To borrow Officer Tom's words, they are a bunch of lunatics with water in their brains, capable of anything.

And the initial analysis wasn't wrong; it's just that Du Wei never expected the cultist to be the already deceased Mike Stowe.

This man, who had once left the Veda Sect to survive, committed unspeakable acts, sacrificed his adopted daughter, and even planned to sacrifice his wife.

If he hadn't boarded that bus, he might have succeeded by now.

However, Du Wei didn't think that Mike Stowe could really have survived.

Because clearly, Mike Stowe was influenced by it, and his mental state had problems. Whether it was the sacrifices or something else, they were merely steering him closer to the edge of losing control.

It was like torture.