Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics-Chapter 4270 - 3369: Bloodbath in New City (81)

Outside was a dark and profound city, with the light of sirens flowing between cold buildings. Inside the adjacent living room, however, it was bright and warm, with the light of the fireplace dispelling the dampness from Mr. Shiller brought by the rainy night.

When he walked in, the man only then noticed that someone was following behind him. Judging from the figure, it seemed to be a woman, but she was wrapped up tightly, her face completely obscured. The firelight streamed down her clothes, slightly revealing a hand with terrible scars.

This frightened the homeowner, but Mr. Shiller seemed completely unconcerned as he said, "She's my assistant; accidents are inevitable in this line of work."

The man frowned, but still stepped back, allowing the shadowy figure behind him to come in. He forced a smile and said, "Yes, sir. I heard you protected the Yueke family of three and saved the deputy mayor's sister. I just want to protect my family."

"Of course, of course," Mr. Shiller kept nodding his head as he placed his toolbox aside, sat down on the sofa, and then said, "I'm here for that reason, so you don't have to be so nervous. The Death Angel won't invade your house today, and even if he does, I will make him leave."

This repeated reassurance had some effect. The man's tense muscles relaxed slightly, but he did not sit down, instead pacing to one side of the island platform in the kitchen.

"It's like a nightmare; I almost forgot what it was like outside. Luckily, my house is secure enough to withstand a bomb. But it's a different story if there's a demon."

The man turned and looked at Mr. Shiller, asking, "Do you think this demon business is real?"

"If you don't believe in demons, why did you invite me here then?"

"I'm not questioning your expertise, sir. But after all, I've never seen one with my own eyes..."

"Then wait until you do," Mr. Shiller stood up, picked up his toolbox, and then said, "I have many appointments. I must leave now."

"Wait." The man hastily called out to him and then said, "That's not what I meant. I invited you here for an exorcism ritual, of course, but I want to know if it can protect me and my family."

"Again, if you don't believe, why have me come here?" Mr. Shiller shook his head, "If you have a better solution, use it. I don't have time to waste."

The man quickly stepped forward, blocking Mr. Shiller's path, and then said, "Alright, Mr. Shiller, my apologies. I shouldn't have questioned you. What I meant to ask was, can we only expel demons?"

"What else then?"

"I mean, can't we just completely kill it?"

"You mean the Death Angel? Sure, if you blew up half of Gotham with missiles, you'd definitely kill him."

"Isn't there a quieter way? Like hiring a sniper? Would he be afraid of bullets?"

Mr. Shiller shook his head and said, "I understand you can't believe in Supernatural Forces without seeing them. But the fact is, you're not the only one who can hire a sniper, yet the Death Angel is still alive."

The man seemed to finally give up hope. He walked over to the sofa and sat down, then asked, "How long does the effect of the exorcism last?"

"At most seven days," Mr. Shiller explained, "And it only works once. It might not deter him the second time."

Hearing how short the duration was, the man became even more fearful. He gripped the armrest of the sofa and said, "I can pay more."

"It's not about the money, sir. The demon behind the Death Angel is of high rank, otherwise he wouldn't be so brazen. Holding him off this long is already commendable."

"Are we doomed then?"

"No. Devils are usually picky. They won't just possess anyone randomly. If you can find a way to kill the person possessed, he might choose to return to Hell."

"You mean killing the Death Angel could drive out the demon?! But we can't kill him if we can't handle the demon!"

"That's not my concern, Mr. Magnate. Now, let's discuss the price."

Mr. Shiller sat back down, took a contract out of his toolbox, and said, "Time is pressing, I won't beat around the bush. You own an office building on Bourbon Street, right?"

"That's correct. It was originally bombed into ruins, and after it was rebuilt, others found it unsafe, so I got it cheaply as the headquarters for my subsidiary. You have your eyes on this building?"

"Yes. Bourbon Street is filled with drug-addled madmen; causing a bit of disturbance there won't provoke much chaos, making it a good hiding spot."

Exchanging a building for an exorcism ritual sounded steep, but it actually relieved the man. Out of a businessman's nature, he began to bargain with Mr. Shiller. Mr. Shiller was accommodating, promising to rent the building back to him for office use at a low price after acquiring ownership, saving him the trouble of moving.

After signing the contract, the transaction was completed, and Mr. Shiller began preparations for the exorcism ritual.

He requested the man to clear the house, stating that no one other than the homeowner and the exorcist should be present.

Rushing, the man sent his family to another house and sternly instructed them not to go out. He then returned to his house to participate in the exorcism ritual.

When he came back, Mr. Shiller had already prepared the props. The living room was brilliantly lit by the light from countless candles, with various peculiar props placed on the central ritual table, including porcelain fragments, feathers, and various statues.

This mysteriously set scene, in fact, gave the man some sense of security. He walked up to the ritual table, and Mr. Shiller took out a small knife, saying, "Cut your fingertip and drip the blood here. Then I'll light the incense, and you will feel a bit dizzy and have difficulty breathing, which is normal. When you wake up, the ritual will have been completed."

The man picked up the small knife and grimaced as he sliced open his finger. But thinking about escaping this anxious life for even a few days, he still slid the blade across his fingertip.

Blood flowed out and suddenly, a plume of smoke rose from the ritual table. The man was startled and was about to say something when Shiller used the lit herb roll in his hand to ignite the incense.

The scent of the spices was strong, bittersweet, with a hint of freshness. The man quickly became intoxicated with the aroma.

"Bang!"

His legs buckled, and the man fell down unconscious. Shiller walked over and propped up his body, while Clown Maria, who was following behind him, walked over and opened the garage door.

The man had a long nightmare. In the dream, he was a rat chased by snakes, constantly moving through the sewers, eating the disgusting rotten flesh, and then he himself started to rot.

His consciousness gradually returned and a light began to appear in front of him. He blinked hard, instantly feeling the heat of a crowded crowd rising around him, various whispers making his head split with pain.

"Ha ha, David, I knew you'd come too."

The man called David forced his eyes open, the pain from his fingertips fully waking him up.

"What's going on? Wasn't I in the middle of a Devil banishing ritual?" he said, sitting up and holding his head, somewhat bewildered.

"You were tricked too," that familiar voice rang in his ears. David turned his head and saw a familiar face.

"Mr. Deputy Mayor, what are you doing here?"

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Only then did he have time to look around the environment. He looked around, speechless with shock, for now he was cramped with familiar people. They had once appeared together on golf courses or at the racetracks, and had battled all night at negotiation tables.

These people were elites from the same wealthy class as him.

But they weren't in David's estate now. David widened his eyes to see, they were all locked in a cell and the style of the floor and walls looked very much like Arkham Asylum.

"Who did you bet on?" the white-haired Deputy Mayor asked.

"What?"

"Whom did you bet on in the Death Game? It was Bane, wasn't it?"

It took David a long time to snap back to reality. He seemed to understand and he looked at these people and said, "Did you all bet on Bane too?"

"I'm afraid so. There were too many betting on him, hence now we are squeezed together. You see, that cell across is much more spacious."

David looked up and saw, just as the Deputy Mayor said, only two people were in the opposite cell and a small plant was drawn on the cell door's plaque. David immediately guessed it was the room for those who bet on Poison Ivy.

But he still couldn't understand how things had turned out this way. He just showed a puzzled expression when the Deputy Mayor snorted coldly and said:

"Don't you understand yet? That Shiller is a scammer, and he's the most dangerous and insane criminal. All this is a trap he set!"

The Deputy Mayor reached over and picked up something. David looked carefully and realized it was the book of traps sent to them earlier.

Then he understood the Deputy Mayor's meaning. The scandal of the Death Game was exposed, leading them into an abyss. And the initiator of this game was Shiller, for only he had the reason and ability to expose this book; it was all his trap.

But now realizing this was too late. And it seemed he didn't only want to ruin them but to drain their last value, using their lives for a real, thrilling, and bloody Death Game.

The chaos in the Upper city area continued, but the GTO squad led by Nightwing shrewdly sensed something was off.

"There's another report of a missing family member," a uniformed squad member came over and said.

"What did Batgirl say?"

"Too many surveillance cameras were destroyed, leading to incomplete footage, she doesn't know on which street the person disappeared. Could it be the work of the Death Angel?"

"Impossible. The Death Angel thrives on flames and explosions; wherever he is, it would definitely be ablaze, it's not possible for someone to disappear so silently."

"Nightwing, you need to see this." Batgirl came over, handing Nightwing a cell phone, which was playing a surveillance video.

A woman, wrapped up tightly, was busying herself with something in the trunk of a car. On the edge of the camera's blind spot, a shoe could be seen; clearly, there was a living person tucked inside the trunk.

Nightwing stared intently at the chemical burn scars on the back of the woman's hand exposed.

"Clown Maria..." he murmured, "I knew she wouldn't stay quiet for long. But why would she kidnap these wealthy people?"

"I guess she's prepared a surprise game," Batgirl sighed. "She knows Batman isn't dead, and she wants to draw him out this way."