Ch: 355-362
Three hundred and fifty-five, Jessica Jones?
Ding!
Task completed: "Let go of that witch!"
Basic task reward: "Achievement Points * 5000", "Potential Points * 5000"
Task bonus: "100 times!"
Hidden task completed: "Savior!"
Hidden task reward: "Achievement Points * 5000", "Potential Points * 5000"
Task details: "You are electricity, you are light, you are the only myth. Like a ray of light, you saved the witches in the darkness and despair. Without a doubt, you are the savior!"
Hidden task completed: "Heretic!"
Hidden task reward: "Title: Silver City Gravedigger", "Achievement Points * 5000", "Potential Points * 5000"
Task details: "In this war that has lasted for hundreds of years, your entry undeniably placed you on the side of the witches. Without a doubt, in the hearts of some people, you are a well-deserved heretic."
Silver City Gravedigger: "Although the last descendants of the Crusaders did not die by your hand, they perished because of you. The Crusader army, driven out and following God, and the guardians of Silver City, swear that one day they will come for revenge, never resting until you are dead!"
Silver City Gravedigger effect: "Passive title. When Crusaders enter your radar, you will lock onto them. Killing one person doubles the basic reward, and there's a chance to drop Silver City Dimension Fragments."
Hidden task completed: "My clone is actually me?"
Hidden task reward: "Achievement Points * 10,000", "Potential Points * 10,000"
Task details: "Didn't expect it, did you? The pleasant surprise came so suddenly. The moment you merged with Salem, a surprise reward was given. The moment the Dimension of the Land of Light settled in the dimensional space, it seems that in the eyes of some people, Dimensional Zero is your true body. Oh no, I've become a substitute?"
Hidden task completed: "Three Strikes Against Mephisto!"
Hidden task reward: "Achievement Points * 10,000", "Potential Points * 10,000", "Hell Dimension Fragment * 1 (Collect seven fragments to summon the Hell Dimension and gain qualification for Hell Dimension Hegemony!)"
Task details: "This also seems to be a pleasant surprise. Perhaps you can try to enact the drama of'Seven Captures of Mephisto' again. But be careful, once you accumulate seven Hell Dimension Fragments, you might attract Mephisto's attention. Mephisto: How can I allow others to snore beside my bed? Die!"
Final task settlement: "Achievement Points * 530,000", "Potential Points * 530,000", "Title: Silver City Gravedigger", "Hell Dimension Fragment * 1"
Deduction for advance payment: "Achievement Points * 500,000", "Potential Points * 500,000."
Status updated!
Potential Points * 330,000!
Achievement Points * 330,000!
Titles: "My Destiny is Mine (Active, currently attracts 90% aggro)", "Silver City Gravedigger (New, Passive)"
...
High in the sky.
Locke watched the blue sky and white clouds outside the window, slowly withdrew his gaze, and sighed softly in his heart.
He had thought the system had amnesia and had forgotten about the 500,000 points he had withdrawn in advance from the dimension. Clearly, the system didn't give him a chance to exploit loopholes.
However... this harvest was pretty good.
The improvement in life quality is another matter for now. As the saying goes, in the short term, Locke's main place for farming points is still on Earth, or rather, at school before he finishes his studies.
After all, a considerable number of points can be earned at school in a year. He primarily farms at school, and only during holidays or summer/winter breaks does he go out to farm points in society.
Besides.
What if he becomes a dimensional god?
A dimensional god is not a god.
Locke looked enviously at the Sun God bloodline at the top of the mall. What's so rare about a dimensional god? A true god, you have to look at the Sun God, who dares to... bah.
He'd be the sun himself!
But... a Hell Dimension Fragment?
Locke looked at the fragment in the treasure vault, shimmering with the words "Hell," his eyes glinting. This thing was a good item.
But, that's not right.
The Hell Dimension belongs to Mephisto. Even if Mephisto's son, Mephisto's Heart, is at most a named Hell Dimension creature, he couldn't possibly possess a dimensional fragment.
After all, Hell is Mephisto's dimensional domain, not Mephisto's Heart's.
So, it's like the chickens in the village. Although chickens can't have cleavers, if you kill too many chickens, you might drop a golden quality cleaver? Is that the same principle?
Locke's eyes flickered.
Thump.
Locke came back to his senses, looking at Gwen beside him, who was sleeping leaning against the chair, her head resting directly on his shoulder. He smiled.
Gwen groggily opened her eyes and rubbed them.
"Are we there?"
"...Almost."
Locke glanced at the Statue of Liberty, which was now visible, and smiled, saying, "Go back to sleep, maybe another ten minutes or so."
In the morning, after saying goodbye to Cordelia, Zoe, and the others, they went straight to the airport. Then, after Copp sent George over, they immediately set off on a flight back to New York.
George had originally invited Copp to come along, but Copp declined, saying he'd definitely come next time.
Although Copp hid it well, George still said, as they boarded the plane, that Copp seemed to have something on his mind.
After all, owing loan sharks, it's normal to have something on your mind.
However... Copp probably wouldn't have anything on his mind for much longer.
After all, Copp didn't owe money to a bank, but to individuals. The creditor died, and the IOU was burned to ashes. So, how could the debt even be mentioned?
As Locke told Carrie, he was always very generous to his friends.
So, before leaving today, Locke handed the list he had collected these past few days to Carrie, asking her to take some time in the evening to go out and resolve the troublesome matters on the list.
Therefore.
The problem that Copp was worried about was no longer a problem.
Hope that guy finds out soon.
After all, in the past few days, Locke had discovered that Copp seemed to be planning something big, like robbing a bank to solve his debt problems.
Locke thought to himself.
Fifteen minutes later!
Buzz!
The plane touched down and began to decelerate.
Half an hour later.
"Gwen!"
"Over here, over here!"
At the arrival gate, Cindy, wearing a very conspicuous orange down jacket, happily waved her hands and shouted loudly as she watched Gwen walk out with her luggage.
Gwen walked over.
Cindy immediately hugged Gwen.
"Ah!"
Gwen was a bit overwhelmed by Cindy's enthusiasm, blinking and saying, "Dear, I think I've only been gone for three days. Don't be so enthusiastic."
Cindy let go, her face serious: "Dear, we haven't seen each other in a year."
Gwen was dumbfounded.
Cindy said, "Look, the day before yesterday was December 31st, 2005. Yesterday was January 1st, 2006. We didn't see each other on either of those days, so, we haven't seen each other in a year."
Gwen was confused.
"Uh..."
"Let's go, dear. A new restaurant has opened on Fifth Avenue, and I've been waiting for you to come back so we can go check it out together."
"Alright."
Gwen nodded, thinking about confirming tomorrow's skiing trip to Canada with Cindy later. So, she said to George, "Dad, then Locke and I will go first."
George nodded.
Locke then looked at Carrie: "Want to come skiing with us tomorrow?"
Carrie shook her head: "Betty and I made plans to go to New York TV after we get back to confirm the internship with Patty."
Locke nodded, took out his car keys: "Then you can drive my car back. I'll ride with Kahn."
Carrie took the car keys, then said goodbye to Gwen and Cindy, and walked towards the parking lot with George, pushing her luggage.
Cindy's car wasn't parked in the parking lot.
It was parked right outside.
When Locke and Gwen walked out, they saw Kahn not far away, seemingly helping a little girl pick up something.
As they got closer.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Kahn handed some dried, herb-like things scattered on the ground to the girl who had accidentally bumped into him and then sat down: "Sorry about that."
Cindy walked over: "What happened?"
Kahn shrugged.
After the girl took the things Kahn handed her, she apologized and thanked him, then hurried into the airport, seemingly rushing for a flight.
"That..."
Gwen had just noticed a herb that the girl was trying to stuff into her backpack. It was a herb she had seen in Cordelia's pharmacy, an essential ingredient for witches to make witch's brew.
She had also brought some back, planning to make it for Locke when she had time.
Locke hummed, glanced at the girl hurrying into the airport, and whispered, "She should be catching our flight, right?"
Locke and the others had just flown from New Orleans Airport. That plane would refuel, be cleaned, and then fly back to New Orleans.
After Cordelia said "Welcome home, Salem witches" this morning, the system directly defaulted the task as completed. Locke had originally thought that the first batch of witches needed to enroll for the witches' living conditions to be considered stable.
But now.
He just returned and met a witch who was preparing to go to New Orleans, ready to go home.
Interesting.
They got in the car.
Sitting in the passenger seat, just as Cindy was about to speak.
Ring-a-ling!
Ring-a-ling!
Cindy's phone rang, and not just Cindy's.
Kahn's.
And... Locke's and Gwen's phones in the back seat also rang.
What's going on?
Locke raised an eyebrow and took out his phone.
It wasn't a call.
It was a group chat message, but it was sent to all members of the circle.
Upon seeing it.
Midtown High School Student Management Committee.
Mrs. Code: "To all in the circle: Jessica was in a car accident and is currently being rescued at New Amsterdam Hospital."
The four people in the car: "..."
356. Jewel and HYDRA
Jessica.
Full name: Jessica Campbell, a classmate from Midtown High School. She was also in Locke's class and, more importantly, a key member of the student association led by Locke. Since she enjoyed sports, Locke had assigned her to the Sports Department, specifically to handle communication with Sam Malikof the Football Team, as well as the basketball and baseball teams.
New Amsterdam Hospital.
After seeing the message Madam Cort sent to the group, Locke and the other three changed their plans and rushed to the hospital. Exiting the elevator, they immediately saw Madam Cort sitting on a bench outside the operating room.
"Madam Cort!"
"How is Jessica?"
"What happened?"
Locke walked over and called out to Madam Cort. By the time she snapped out of it, Gwen and Cindybeside him were already asking questions urgently.
Madam Cort stood up and looked at the anxious and concerned Gwen and Cindy, shaking her head. "I only found out just now when the hospital called me."
Just then.
A medical staff member walked over and looked at Madam Cort. "Have you still not contacted the patient's family? The bill needs to be paid."
Madam Cort shook her head. "Not yet..."
Locke spoke up, looking at Madam Cort before turning to the staff member. "I'll do it."
The staff member looked at Locke and nodded.
As long as the money was paid, she didn't care who paid it. After all, a hospital isn't the service industry; if a patient couldn't pay the surgery fees, it was one thing if they lived, but if they died, the cost would have to be split among everyone's department budget.
While swiping his card, Locke finally understood why Madam Cort hadn't paid.
Goodfellas.
It was so damn expensive.
Locke watched the seventy thousand dollars being swiped out, his brow twitching involuntarily.
Looking at the receipt that popped out, the staff member looked at Locke and said, "You all should be prepared; the outcome might not be easy to accept."
Locke took the card, nodded, and walked back.
Madam Cort was just explaining what had happened to Gwen and Cindy.
She had actually received a call from New Amsterdam Hospital an hour ago. They told her that Jessica Campbell had been in a car accident, was hospitalized, and needed her to come over immediately.
Logically speaking, Madam Cort wasn't Jessica Campbell's primary emergency contact; her parents were, and the school's college counselor was third.
However, the situation was urgent, so Madam Cort hadn't thought much about it. It was only after she arrived that she learned Jessica Campbell wasn't the only one in the accident.
"Her parents were there too."
"What?"
"Yes."
Madam Cort covered her mouth, looking at the still-lit operating room light. She glanced at Betty and Carrie, who were walking over from the elevator, and then said to Locke and the others, "But Jessica's parents weren't so lucky. They had already lost all signs of life on the way to the hospital."
This was why the hospital had called Madam Cort.
The primary and secondary emergency contacts were both dead. The hospital wouldn't notify two dead people, so they had to go down the list and call Madam Cort.
Locke and the others looked at each other in shock.
Behind them.
Carrie and Betty hurried over as well.
"What happened?"
"How is Jessica?"
Gwen and Cindy looked at them and shared what they knew. Then, expressions of disbelief appeared on Carrie and Betty's faces.
Betty's mouth hung open in a daze.
"When Jessica was chatting with me this morning, she told me she was going to Coney Island's amusement park today with her parents, who finally came back, to relax."
"...Coney Island?"
"Yeah."
Betty's expression was pained. "Jessica even invited me to go with them. Damn it, if I had known, I should have gone to keep her company."
If you had gone, the story wouldn't have changed; at most, there would have been one more operating table in that room.
Locke thought to himself.
Carrie's eyes glowed with a faint purple light as she looked toward the operating room, and then she looked a bit startled.
On the operating table, Jessica was entirely encased in a mass of green, viscous liquid that looked like bubblegum. But that wasn't the point; the point was that the medical staff inside seemed to be wearing some kind of protective suits.
Most crucially.
Jessica's life force seemed extremely vigorous—even more vigorous than the people outside.
This is...?
Carrie snapped back to reality, seemingly realizing something, and looked toward Locke.
Locke caught Carrie's gaze, glanced at her, and then smiled.
While they were talking earlier, he had used the excuse of paying the bill to distract Madam Cort, Gwen, Cindy, and Kahn. He had slipped in secretly and poured a Health Potion down Jessica's throat.
Otherwise... by the time Carrie and Betty arrived, the operating room light probably would have turned off, and the Doctor would have come out with a face full of sorrow to say, 'I'm sorry, we did everything we could.'
However.
The Health Potion could only replenish life force; it had no other effect. Just as when Locke had used it on that New York Detective, even after taking the potion, the man still had to come to the hospital to have his holes stitched up.
It was the same for Jessica now.
Since they were already at the hospital, Locke couldn't go too far. He could only replenish Jessica's life force. As for the radioactive viscous liquid she was covered in, he was powerless against that.
But... how did this happen?
Locke was somewhat curious.
Just then.
Ding!
The elevator doors opened again.
Locke and the others looked over, originally thinking it was another friend from the group chat.
But... "Sam?"
"Malik?"
Locke was slightly taken aback. He watched Sam Malik exit the elevator, look around, and then rush over toward the lit operating room, seemingly not even noticing them.
"Jessica!"
"Sam..."
"Move..."
Thud!
Locke raised an eyebrow. Using force with his right hand, he pulled back Sam Malik, who was about to shove him aside and had already placed his hands on the operating room door. With a flick of his wrist, he forced Sam to sit down obediently on a chair.
Sam was instantly enraged.
Then... he froze.
"Locke?"
Sam seemed to come to his senses. Still holding a punching posture, he looked at Locke in front of him, blinked, and pulled back his fist. Then he saw Gwen and the others, and finally, his gaze landed on Madam Cort. "Madam Cort?"
Madam Cort reacted to the lightning-fast scene, frowning as she thought of something. She looked at Sam. "Sam, you and Jessica..."
That reaction just now.
That expression... no matter how you looked at it, it didn't seem like the simple friendship of ordinary classmates.
Locke also looked at Sam Malik, his expression becoming a bit strange.
Goodfellas.
Sam and Jessica?
The son of the leader of the orthodox HYDRA and the future female knight of the Marvel Universe?
Wait!
Locke raised an eyebrow, seemingly realizing something, and looked at the operating room.
He naturally knew that Jessica Campbell was the future Jessica Jones, the future female knight and Jewel.
But... could it be that the future female knight, Jewel, mutated and awakened because of this accident?
That's not right.
Locke's brow arched. He was certain that if he hadn't just gone in and dropped a Large Health Potion, Jessica would be reporting to Mephisto in Hell right about now.
Hearing Madam Cort's words, Sam opened his mouth. He looked at the indicator light that read 'In Resuscitation,' calmed his racing heart, and nodded. "Yes."
"Wow!"
"shit!"
"Since when?"
"Wait, why didn't I hear Jessica mention this?"
"..."
After Sam admitted it, Gwen, Cindy, Carrie, and Betty were stunned. They looked at each other, exchanged information, and asked curiously.
After all, while Jessica didn't talk much, it didn't mean she was antisocial. It was just that because her parents traveled for work so often, she wasn't around as much.
But since they were all in the student association, she was still a good friend within Locke's small circle.
Just as Gwen would talk to Cindy about more explicit topics.
Naturally.
The four girls felt that if Jessica were really dating Sam, they should have been the first to know.
Sam took a deep breath and shook his head. "Actually, we only made it official on Christmas Day. Wasn't it snowing that day? I walked Jessica home, and then... it was official."
The four girls looked at each other.
No wonder.
After Christmas, they were all busy with their own things, either traveling with their families or just relaxing.
Betty seemed to remember something and said, "I remember now. The day after Christmas, when Jessica video-called me, she seemed like she wanted to tell me a secret. But she said she'd wait until school started and we were all together to tell us. It must have been this."
Gwen's eyes lit up. "I think Jessica told me the same thing—that she'd tell us a secret when school started."
Betty and Carrie also indicated that Jessica had said something similar during their calls over the past few days.
But... after they finished speaking, all four of them turned their gazes toward the operating room.
"Jessica..." Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Madam Cort, how is Jessica?"
Madam Cort said, "Don't worry. As long as the Doctor hasn't come out, no one can say what the outcome is. However, since it's been so long, it should be good news."
Sam nodded. "What about Philip?"
Madam Cort was slightly taken aback. "Who?"
Sam: "..."
357. Missing Philip
Sam Malek's words instantly stunned everyone.
Of course, they knew who Philip was.
Philip Campbell.
Jessica's younger brother, who also started as a ninth-grade freshman at Midtown High School in September of last year. However, Philip Campbell and Jessica didn't have a very good relationship.
The reason?
Part of it might be that Philip was adopted.
But mostly, it was other things.
Let's put it this way: if Little George could attend Midtown High School this year, then Gwen probably wouldn't have a good relationship with him either. After all, Gwen was a top student, a grade assistant, and also the assistant to the president of the Midtown High School Student Council.
And after Little George enrolled, well, according to George and Helen, all the family's desire for knowledge went to Gwen. If Little George went to Midtown High School, it would only tarnish Gwen's reputation.
Philip and Jessica's relationship was pretty much similar to this.
However, this guy was a troublemaker. After entering Midtown High School in September last year, because their parents weren't home, Jessica had been called by ninth-grade teachers several times to clean up Philip's messes.
Fortunately, Jessica had a good relationship with Locke and Gwen, and also held an important position in the student council. If it were an ordinary tenth-grade girl, could Philip still continue going to school?
Heh heh.
He'd be suspended for a week to reflect on his actions.
But... that wasn't the point.
Locke and Gwen looked at each other after hearing Sam mention Philip.
"Philip is also in the car?"
"How did you know?"
Sam Malek seemed to realize that their information was problematic and quickly said, "When we left this morning, Jessica told me that her brother Philip would also be going."
Upon hearing this, Mrs. Cord immediately frowned, "The hospital didn't tell me Philip was there."
With that.
Mrs. Cord immediately turned around and hurried to find the medical staff.
Cindy and Betty exchanged glances and followed, "We'll go too."
"Wait!"
Locke raised an eyebrow, turned his head, and looked at Sam, "You and Jessica arranged to go to Coney Island together?"
Sam nodded.
The next second.
Locke's gaze towards Sam changed.
Well, well, well.
Car accident.
Death.
Missing.
Frankly speaking, Locke suddenly felt that this matter, damn it, had absolutely nothing to do with a so-called accident. Instead, it looked like a premeditated incident no matter how he looked at it.
After all... Sam's surname was Malek.
This was a prominent surname within Hydra, and undoubtedly, one that attracted the most hatred.
Could it be that something within Hydra caused Jessica Campbell to suffer this misfortune?
Although Locke always said that he preferred dealing with the reasonable and adaptable Hydra over S.H.I.E.L.D., it didn't mean he would actually deal with Hydra.
In a word.
There were many bad people in S.H.I.E.L.D., and while good people were few, there were still some.
But in Hydra, there were genuinely no good people.
Who in their right mind would join Hydra?
Just as a person with normal values wouldn't join a terrorist organization, Hydra was undoubtedly a terrorist organization. Would a good person join this organization?
Look at Baron Strucker.
He was also a high-ranking Hydra official, but he didn't let his son, Werner von Strucker, follow in his footsteps and join Hydra.
Why?
Baron Strucker himself knew that his organization wasn't a good thing. Although his values were skewed, his intelligence was intact, so how could he let his son get involved?
Sam Malek was the same.
Locke had investigated Sam Malek when he ran for student council president. Although Sam Malek wanted to pursue a career in Washington, he knew nothing about Hydra. Otherwise, Sam wouldn't have tried to win the next high school Super Bowl championship to build his future reputation.
Sure enough.
Sam was slightly taken aback, looking at Locke's gaze.
However... Sam thought Locke was curious why he wasn't at the hospital, and quickly said, "Jessica and I agreed to go together, but I went ahead. I waited at Coney Island for a while, but Jessica's phone kept going straight to voicemail. Then, I saw the message in the group chat, and that's when I sped all the way from Coney Island."
As he spoke.
Cindy and Betty hurried over.
"No."
"The ambulance center said they only picked up three people at the scene."
"Could it be that he didn't go?"
Gwen listened to Cindy and Betty's words and looked at Sam, "Are you sure Jessica said her brother was going with them?"
Sam nodded, his expression serious, "I'm sure. In our last phone call, Jessica told me that she and her brother Philip were about to get in the car and that we'd talk when we met."
Mrs. Cord, who had walked over, heard Sam's emphatic words and quickly pulled out her phone, directly dialing 911.
Locke turned his head, staring at the operating room where the emergency treatment was still underway.
Ten minutes later.
NYPD officers arrived.
After all, the NYPD was only a couple of blocks away from New Amsterdam Hospital, a fifteen-minute walk at most.
And familiar faces came.
"Gwen?"
"Aunt Kate?"
Kate Beckett, with Esposito and Ryan, stepped out of the elevator. Then, seeing Gwen, a hint of surprise appeared on her face as she walked over, "I met Helen the day before yesterday. Helen said you and George were in New Orleans. When did you get back? I heard there's big news in New Orleans, witches, oh."
Gwen said, "About three hours ago. I even brought you a gift, but now isn't the time to talk about that, Aunt Kate. My classmate's brother is missing."
She not only bought a gift for Kate but also souvenirs for the other three detectives at NYPD headquarters.
The items weren't expensive or large, just some small trinkets, jewelry accessories, and so on, from the Witch Street in New Orleans, considered local specialties.
Kate's expression immediately became serious when she heard about the disappearance.
This was also why she came here. Normally, for a report, patrol officers would first come to inquire about the reason for the report.
Soon.
Gwen, Mrs. Cord, Betty, Cindy, and Sam combined their accounts and told Detective Beckett all the information they knew.
Simply put, it was a car accident: two dead, one injured, one missing.
"Ryan."
Kate's expression was serious as she turned to Ryan and said, "Go and ask the two officers downstairs."
Since there were fatalities, there must have been officers involved.
But this was a traffic case, so it would naturally be handled by the traffic police.
Ryan nodded, turned, and walked towards the elevator.
Kate wrote down Philip Campbell's name, looked at Gwen, then glanced at the operating room, "How is your classmate?"
Gwen shook her head, "I don't know, she's still in critical condition."
"What about George?"
"Dad should be home by now."
"Mm."
Kate nodded, considered it for a moment, and pulled out her phone, feeling it was necessary to call George and tell him what was happening here.
After all, George was Gwen's father, and he was also her superior.
Gwen watched Kate's actions, opened her mouth, then looked down at the time on her wristwatch.
Only two hours had passed.
Dad probably hadn't finished being lectured by Mom yet.
Gwen thought to herself.
Sure enough.
Kate looked curiously at the dial tone on the phone, blinking, "That's strange, why isn't George answering the phone?"
This was completely unlike George's character. After all, this was a work phone, and not missing a single call was a habit of every detective.
Because sometimes, if the call came from an undercover agent or an informant, any missed call could result in the death of that agent or informant.
Just then.
Ring ring!
Kate looked at the incoming call from the same number.
She answered.
George's voice immediately came through the phone.
"Kate, is something wrong at the precinct?"
"No."
Kate heard George's first words and felt like she had the right number—this was the George she knew. She shook her head, then told George what was happening at New Amsterdam Hospital at that very moment.
George on the other end of the phone was stunned.
"Gwen... is with you?"
"Yes!"
"I'll be right there!"
Kate wasn't sure if she was mistaken, but George's voice seemed to have risen a few octaves. However, considering Gwen had always been George's precious darling, she smiled, hung up the phone, and said to Gwen, "Your dad got nervous as soon as he heard you were here. He's on his way now."
Gwen let out a dry chuckle, looking down at the goosebumps on the back of her hand.
This time, it wasn't concern or nervousness.
He's coming to beat me.
Gwen thought to herself, what should I do, can I leave first?
Just then.
Ryan came out of the elevator with the two traffic officers who had first arrived at the accident scene.
"Kate."
Ryan walked closer and said to Kate, who had put down her phone, "The accident happened on Highway 74 near Coney Island. The cause of the accident was a sudden blowout of the car's front tire, which caused their car to collide directly with a military vehicle full of chemical radioactive hazardous materials. They arrived at the scene twenty minutes after the accident."
"Chemical radioactive hazardous materials?"
Kate frowned and looked at the two officers, "What kind of hazardous materials?"
The two officers shook their heads.
It was a military vehicle, not an ordinary truck, and at the time, there were chemical radioactive materials spilled at the scene. How could they dare to go in and rescue people? Did they want to die?
Kate looked at the expressions of the two officers, too lazy to press further, and directly said, "Are you sure there were no other people at the scene besides these three?"
The two officers shook their heads in unison.
But...
358. The Last Witch Hunter
"They're lying!"
"..."
Just as the two police officers denied in unison that there was a fourth person present, Sam Malik couldn't hold back and said in a deep voice, "Philip was in the car when I was talking to Jessica."
The two police officers instantly looked at Sam Malik.
One of the officers shook his head and said, "When we arrived at the scene, we indeed didn't find this Philip you're talking about."
The other officer echoed, "Yes."
Locke, not far away, raised an eyebrow, looking at the last officer who spoke.
This guy... was lying.
Locke hadn't seen any signs of lying from the first officer, but the second officer was lying.
No other reason.
Locke had noticed him the moment he stepped out of the elevator and entered his line of sight, because this guy had triggered the title he had just acquired after completing his mission in New Orleans.
Silver City Undertaker!
Silver City Undertaker Effect: "Passive title. When a Crusader enters your radar, you will lock onto them. For each one killed, the base reward is doubled, and there's a chance to drop Silver City Dimension Shards."
Interesting.
Locke couldn't help but let out a chuckle, muttering to himself.
The next second.
Ding!
Task generating!
Task Name: "The Last Witch Hunter!!!"
Task Reward: "Achievement Points * 2W", "Potential Points * 2W"
Task Description: "Tired, bury them."
Task Note: "Dear, your curiosity and interest are the motivation for me to issue tasks!"
Accept / Decline!
"..."
Locke smiled.
Indeed!
"Accept."
Locke immediately chose to accept the quest, then looked directly at the second officer: "You're from the Dolan Church, aren't you?"
The second officer was slightly stunned by Locke's words.
His expression was dry.
"I don't know what you're talking about?"
"Don't know?"
Locke nodded, looking at the second officer: "Is that so? That's a shame. I heard that the Dark Führer also left New Orleans. I wonder if his next stop is New York, right, Gwen, Carrie?"
Gwen glanced at Locke, then looked at the second officer and nodded: "Yes, I heard he's already left New Orleans. Otherwise, my dad wouldn't have been able to come back."
When Carrie heard Locke say that the second officer was from the Dolan Church, her face immediately filled with disgust. She said coldly, "The most despicable and shameless cult. I really hope the Dark Führer comes soon to judge each and every one of you, just as you judged those innocent witches."
The second officer's face changed dramatically. He looked at Carrie and immediately snapped, "Witches are the destroyers of the world!"
Locke spread his hands.
Good heavens.
So that's why zealots are the most exasperating. He was feigning it quite well just now, but once the topic of witches came up, he was like a powder keg, igniting instantly.
However... this is good.
Locke continued to provoke the officer: "I don't think so. Didn't you pass by your church on your way back? It's surrounded, and everyone's shouting for its downfall."
The combat effectiveness of New York's Women and Children's Protection Association was quite impressive.
It was still the same saying.
Witches are also women!
A witch, an officially certified witch, gave a live interview, recounting the atrocities of the Dolan Church, which directly ignited the anger of the women's and children's protection organizations that had emerged in recent years.
Especially in New York, the headquarters of the Dolan Church, Mayor Cassie even directly demanded that the Dolan Church explain and respond to the witch's accusations.
It was just that the Dolan Church hadn't responded yet.
But this didn't stop the angry women of New York from gathering together and starting to march outside the Dolan Church, holding signs that had been hastily made in an hour.
The live broadcast was in the morning, Mayor Cassie spoke at noon, and then, after getting off the plane, on the way over, the New York Women and Children's Protection Association had already started marching.
One could see how strong their fighting power was.
It had to be said that the rise of feminism actually had its benefits.
The officer's face flushed crimson as he looked at Locke, whose expression was full of mockery: "Heretic!"
Locke chuckled, "Then come and judge me."
The officer stared into Locke's eyes, which were filled with sarcasm, mockery, and temptation, and immediately roared, pulling out his service pistol from his waist with a click.
The next second.
"Fuck!"
"Bang!"
"Boom!"
The moment the officer drew his pistol from his waist, in a flash of lightning, Ryan and Esposito, who had been standing by and on guard against this guy since Locke spoke, immediately firmly grabbed the officer's arms from both sides. Then, accompanied by a scream and the sound of an arm breaking, the entire person was directly slammed onto the floor by Ryan and Esposito.
Locke blinked, retracting his 'My Destiny' title.
If he wore it any longer, others might start to resent him.
That's it?
Frankly, from the time Locke started in New Orleans until his return, he never quite understood one thing: how did the Dolan Church manage to successfully hunt witches all these years?
Did they really rely on faith?
God was even beaten away by the Sorcerer Supreme, and they still talked about faith? Faith, my ass!
"Get up!"
"You damn bastard!"
"Ah!"
The officer, who had been pulled up, screamed again, cold sweat beading on his forehead. But, gasping for air, he still didn't forget to shout at Locke, "Heretic, heretic!"
Locke picked at his ear.
This was why he disliked religion, especially Western religions.
As long as there was a disagreement, a 'heretic' label was immediately slapped on. They couldn't learn the beautiful virtue of harmonious coexistence from the Eastern Daoists and Buddhists.
Kate recovered from her shock, a look of disgust on her face: "Take him back to the precinct."
Ryan directly grabbed the guy's police badge from his chest, ripping it off with a tearing sound. Then, he and Esposito exerted force, throwing the guy to the two officers who had walked over behind them: "You don't deserve to wear this."
"Heretic!"
"Heretic!"
"Heretic!"
As the two police officers forcefully led him away, he seemed to have fallen into a state of madness. Even as cold sweat poured down and his voice hitched, he still roared "heretic" hysterically. Anyone who didn't know better would probably think a demon had raped his wife in front of him.
However.
As the elevator doors closed and descended, the guy's voice gradually faded away.
Once everyone had recovered, their gazes fell upon the first officer who had spoken earlier.
"Hmm?"
The first officer snapped back to reality, startled. Seeing their gazes fixed on him, especially Sam Malik's gaze, which seemed ready to devour him, he swallowed hard: "I'm a Mormon believer. I don't know any Dolan."
Good heavens.
Locke listened to this, couldn't help but size up the officer.
He hadn't realized that this thin, mustachioed officer was also a person who hid his true abilities.
Mormonism.
It was said that men who believed in this denomination could practice polygamy because, within this Mormon Church, polygamy was legal, and in the Mormon Church's headquarters, Salt Lake City, Utah, polygamy was openly practiced.
Locke had once learned about this religion from Chester when he was bored in Texas, and he had also thoroughly understood how to join it.
But when Locke heard that joining this religion required dedicating one's property, he immediately decided not to consider it anymore.
What the hell.
In a federation where capital promotes common prosperity, what's the difference between that and having mercury in your brain?
Kate heard that this guy was from the Mormon Church, and the coldness on her face deepened. She said expressionlessly, "What exactly happened? Speak."
The officer shivered, his tone utterly helpless: "It's really as we said, we truly didn't find a fourth person."
Sam Malik said in a deep voice, "That's impossible!"
The officer looked at Sam, his face full of speechlessness and innocence: "I'm telling the truth. We were on Highway 74 at the time, and we received a call from dispatch. We were the first to respond. After responding, Koman sounded the alarm and headed to the location."
"Wait."
Gwen suddenly remembered something and looked at the officer who spoke: "Highway 74, which connects to Coney Island, isn't very long. How could it have taken you twenty minutes to reach the scene?"
Oh, right.
Betty and the others exchanged glances, thinking about the travel time.
From the entrance of Highway 74 to its end, it would take at most about fifteen minutes.
Sam gritted his teeth. If Kahn hadn't been holding him back, Sam probably would have gone up to assault the officer.
The officer seemed to remember something.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Our patrol car broke down once on the way to the scene. Koman was in charge of the repairs, and it took about ten minutes!"
The officer's eyes lit up. He looked at Detective Beckett and the others and said, "Yes, I even reported it to dispatch at the time. However, when I asked Koman if we should ask dispatch to send another car, Koman said no, saying it was a minor issue."
The officer said so, then pointed to an enforcement recorder hanging on his right shoulder: "After receiving the order from dispatch, I habitually turned on the recorder. Everything I said is true, you can check it. Detective Beckett, I really don't know what happened."
Beckett frowned, remaining silent.
The officer was on the verge of tears. If he had known this would happen, he would have never agreed to anything his partner—bah, that damn Koman—said.
Damn it, you really screwed me over...
Chapter 359: A Night Visit to the Doran Church
Whether this Police Officer was truly miserable or not, no one knew, because Beckett and the others still didn't know if he was telling the truth or lying.
However... while waiting for the body camera footage to be sent over, this Police Officer followed in his accomplice's footsteps—though he was politely invited back to the Police Department.
He didn't resist; he seemed truly innocent.
As he entered the elevator, he bumped right into George, who was just walking out.
Gwen's eyes widened slightly. With a *whoosh*, she pulled Locke, who was beside her, in front of her to block George's line of sight.
George turned his head to watch the scene of the Officer being escorted into the elevator, then turned to look at Beckett. "Didn't you say it was a kidnapping case?"
How did a kidnapping involve one of their own?
Beckett put down the phone in her hand and, looking at the approaching George, quickly told him what had happened during the time it took him to hang up and rush over.
George frowned after hearing this.
"Why is it Doran again?"
"Hmm?"
Beckett was slightly stunned and looked at George. "Are you very familiar with this Doran as well?"
George nodded, then shook his head. "These past few days, Kaup and Doran have been dealing with each other quite a bit. It's an organization that uses the guise of a sect to hunt down various innocent women..."
Yes.
An organization.
In George's heart, sects were supposed to guide people toward goodness. For something like this, with such extreme doctrines, it was better to call it an organization—with the word 'terrorist' added in front.
Beckett nodded at George's words, looked at the small notebook in her hand, and then said, "I'll take Ryan and Esposito back to investigate first."
George gave an 'un' in response, and then, as if remembering something, he looked up at Locke and then at Gwen, who was hiding behind Locke but still revealing her high ponytail; his brow twitched.
He couldn't tell before, but this was no longer just a serious problem of leaking information; this was a full-blown betrayal.
Dammit.
She actually learned how to snitch to Helen?
She's picked up bad habits from that wild boar!
George sighed inwardly and looked at Beckett. "Let's go back together. I was originally planning to return and investigate this Doran Church anyway."
George didn't care about good witches or bad witches, nor did he want to care.
He only knew one principle.
If you break the law, you must face legal sanctions. His duty was to bring those who broke the law before the law to face judgment.
The Doran Church in New Orleans was insane.
The endless Witch skeletons at Lake Lyre were still fresh in his mind, which made George wonder: since the Doran Church's headquarters was in New York, would the bed of the Hudson River also be littered with so-called Witch remains?
After all... the Doran Church's headquarters address in New York was right near the Hudson River.
So, when George returned from New Orleans, he had thought about investigating the Doran Church. He hadn't expected that as soon as he returned, the Doran Church would seemingly deliver itself to his doorstep.
Soon.
George, Beckett, and the others left the hospital directly.
After a while.
The operating room door was pushed open. Then, a Doctor in protective gear took off his heavy suit, revealing a sweat-drenched face. He removed his damp mask and looked at the crowding Madam Cort, Sam Malik, and the others with a relatively relaxed expression. "The patient's will to survive is very strong; she is the second patient I've ever seen with such a powerful will to live."
Locke raised an eyebrow and looked at the Doctor.
He then realized that the Doctor in front of him was the same one who had operated on Jeff Martinback when he had consumed the first large health potion.
Madam Cort, Gwen, and the others couldn't help but breathe a heavy sigh of relief upon hearing the Doctor's words.
The Doctor continued, "However, while the patient's will to survive is strong, it doesn't mean the situation is optimistic. In fact, things are a bit grim. Although we've resuscitated her, she is not yet out of critical danger. You may need to be mentally prepared."
The group nodded.
This was standard rhetoric; after all, one couldn't be too certain. If something went wrong, it would be difficult to handle.
Sam said directly, "Can we see her?"
Gwen and the others nodded, looking expectantly at the Doctor.
The Doctor shook his head. "No, it's not appropriate for the patient to have visitors at this time."
"We'll stay outside, behind the glass."
"..."
In the Intensive Care Unit.
Locke and the others stood outside the window, looking in at several people also wearing protective gear, and then their gazes fell upon a hospital bed inside.
A mummy was lying on the bed.
Uh... Jessica Campbell was wrapped tightly in gauze. From this angle, it seemed even her eyes were covered.
She looked like a Beggar's Chicken; the only difference was that Jessica wasn't buried in the ground, and there was no Fire lit underneath.
"God!"
"Jessica..."
"Oh my god."
Seeing Jessica's current state, Gwen and the others couldn't help but cry out in surprise, covering their mouths with expressions of shared pain in their eyes.
Sam Malik was practically pressed against the glass, looking as if he wanted to crawl inside.
About five minutes later.
The Doctor walked over. This was the ICU, and in principle, so many people weren't allowed in. But one of them was a billionaire, another was the daughter of a high-ranking NYPD Officer, and most importantly, there was a young master with influence in D.C. there.
However, regardless of whether they were people you couldn't afford to offend, this was still a hospital. Just as one needs to respect the anesthesiologist and the Doctor on the operating table, one still needs to respect the Doctor and the hospital's rules here.
Walking out of the ICU.
Madam Cort checked her watch and looked at Locke and the others. "Alright, you all should head back first. There's no point in staying here. I'll be fine. Jessica's aunt is already on her way."
Because Jessica's aunt was in another state, she had set off for New York immediately after receiving the news. She would likely arrive in New York City around ten tonight.
Gwen said, "We'll stay here and keep you company."
Betty and Kahn nodded. "Yeah, Madam Cort, Jessica is our good friend."
Madam Cort shook her head. "Staying here is useless; we can't go in anyway. Go home, and come back tomorrow."
Sam Malik spoke up at this time, looking at Locke. "Yeah, you guys go back first. If Jessica wakes up, I'll let you know. Madam Cort and I will stay here."
Gwen and the others looked at each other.
After a while.
The group didn't insist. They left the hospital, looking back with every step. After all, Madam Cort was right; Jessica was in the ICU, and their staying wouldn't make her wake up any sooner.
"See you tomorrow, Gwen!"
"Okay."
Locke and Gwen waved to Carrie and Betty, then got into the car Kahn had driven over.
After getting into the car.
Cindy, sitting in the passenger seat, turned to look at Locke and Gwen in the back. "Then the trip to Canada is canceled."
Gwen gave an 'un' in agreement. "Okay."
The four of them had originally agreed to go skiing at a Canadian ski resort.
But given the circumstances, it was certainly inappropriate.
If Jessica were just an ordinary classmate, it wouldn't matter, but Jessica was not only a classmate but also a good friend. For a good friend to have such a major incident happen and then go off on a skiing vacation immediately after—no matter how you looked at it, it seemed a bit wrong.
"Let's cancel the tickets."
Gwen smiled and said, "Save some money, and we'll go out together during the summer break in July."
Cindy nodded. "Alright, then let's go eat. Should we pack a meal for Madam Cort and Sam as well?"
"Okay."
"Kahn."
Cindy smiled and snapped her fingers, looking at Kahn who was driving. "Go to Fifth Avenue. I heard an authentic China restaurant opened over there."
Kahn understood. Then, just as the traffic light was about to flash, he directly changed lanes from the far right, *whoosh*, and sped out. At the moment the light turned red, he completed the left turn and accelerated toward Fifth Avenue.
By the time Locke returned home, it was already past eight in the evening.
He came back alone.
Originally, Gwen had planned to sleep at the Starlight Tower, but now that there was a case, Georgelikely had an excuse not to go home, so Gwen had to go back to keep an eye on things.
After Locke had washed up at home, Gwen's message had already been sent.
I'm home. Helen is angry. No video call.
Locke smiled, typed a text message, sent it, and then went downstairs to have a drink.
"Buzz!"
"Thud!"
Locke turned to take the bourbon from the cabinet, then looked at Carrie who had landed from the terrace and walked in accompanied by a flash of purple light. He smiled. "Want a drink?"
Carrie was about to shake her head, but after thinking for a moment, she walked closer.
"A little."
"Alright."
Locke poured a third of a glass of bourbon and handed it to Carrie. "Here."
Carrie took it, said thank you, and then said with some confusion, "Why did the Doran Church target Jessica? Jessica isn't a Witch."
Locke sipped his drink. "Have you checked the Campbell family?"
Carrie nodded. "I also thought maybe Jessica's grandmother was a Witch and she was caught in the crossfire, but clearly she wasn't. So, I don't understand why the Doran Church would do this."
Locke smiled. "If it wasn't for faith, then it was for something else."
"For something else?"
"Yeah."
"Money?"
Carrie was Chester's goddaughter after all, and a Witch herself; naturally, Chester had taught her everything he could.
"But..."
Carrie opened her mouth, then shook her head. "Why?"
Locke looked up at Carrie and smiled.
"Why?"
"That's a good question."
"Let's go."
"We'll know once we go and ask, won't we?"
Three Hundred and Sixty, Nine-Headed Snake: Am I exposed?
Why do you do this?
Why?
This question should be asked by the police department, after all, deduction and such are their forte.
But Locke doesn't need to.
Isn't it enough to be simple and brutal?
As for why?
Heh heh.
Once I break in, find the mastermind, and ask directly, won't I know? Why bother racking my brains here?
Besides,
He accepted the mission.
The reason the New Orleans mission dragged on for so long was simply because he was new to the place, unfamiliar with the surroundings, and there were many difficult points in the mission, so it was delayed for a while.
But this is New York, and the mission is simple and brutal.
If he doesn't strike while the iron is hot, it might be too late once it cools down.
So... Locke smiled, drained his glass of wine, and slowly transformed into the form of Cain, the king of vampires in the darkness, then looked at Carrie: "Let's go, let's pay them a visit and ask."
He had originally planned to rest for a while after returning, and then, after coming back from skiing in Canada, deal with the local Dolan headquarters.
What a pity.
Just as the mission said.
Tired, let's destroy it.
Locke, with good intentions, wanted to let the Dolan Church die at the fifth watch, but the Dolan Church insisted on dying at the third watch.
It's quite peculiar.
Locke swore that in his entire life, this was the first time he had heard such a request, but out of respect, since the Dolan Church believed that an early death meant an early rebirth, Locke didn't mind sending the Dolan Church on their way sooner.
Boom!
The 36th generation Dolan was sitting in his church office when, suddenly, he heard a clap of thunder from outside, and his pen trembled slightly, drawing a line directly across the paper in front of him.
"Shit!"
The 36th generation Dolan came back to his senses, put down his pen, and looked at the article ruined by the smudge, unable to help but curse, his expression becoming a bit conflicted.
He was debating whether to keep it or rewrite it.
Social development and change were too rapid, so much so that the 36th generation Dolan didn't quite understand why, when they were clearly stabilizing the world and hunting down evil witches, when they were clearly the righteous side, they suddenly became the ones being shouted at and hunted down.
On the TV not far away, an interview news segment was repeatedly playing.
The news of Cordelia's interview.
"Call us, email us, or come directly to New Orleans, there's a home and family waiting for you to return."
"Don't be afraid!"
"Just like our ancestors who cooperated and escaped during the Salem Witch Trials."
"Our home has returned."
"It's time to go home."
"Family!"
"We Are Family!"
"..."
Evil witches.
It must be witches using magic to tempt ordinary people!
The 36th generation Dolan took a deep breath, put aside the manifesto he had already written, intending to send it to the European Dolan Church and the Grimm Hunter headquarters, inviting them to come together to New Orleans to collectively eliminate this Supreme Witch Cordelia, who was taking an unconventional path and exposing herself to the sunlight. He planned to rewrite a new one by hand.
Just then.
"Knock knock!"
"Come in."
A man in a church uniform pushed open the door and entered the lavish office, looking at the 36th generation Dolan sitting behind an old desk, from the same batch as the one in the White House: "Sir, Koman has been arrested by the NYPD."
The 36th generation Dolan looked up.
"Reason?"
"Koman was discovered to be a descendant of the Crusaders, and Senior Inspector George Stacy is currently interrogating him."
"George Stacy!"
The 36th generation Dolan once again put down his pen, took off his glasses, and stood up: "Koman is a descendant of the Crusaders, he knows what to say and what not to say, but this Stacy..."
He had dealt with George before.
When the Dark Lord first appeared, he found George and expressed the purpose of their Dolan Church, hoping that George could persuade Ms. Patty Finn, who had contact with the Dark Lord, to tell them what she knew about him.
As a result... Patty Finn completely ignored him. If Patty Finn hadn't been an ordinary person, but a witch, the 36th generation Dolan would have let Patty know what kind of judgment witches face.
But looking at it now?
The 36th generation Dolan looked up: "When that damned dark witch killed the Voodoo Queen in New Orleans, was this Senior Inspector Stacy also present?"
The man nodded: "Ms. Maria Hill, who took over from Director Nick Fury, was also present, as was a man wearing sunglasses, but we are still investigating his specific identity."
"Indeed!"
The 36th generation Dolan shook his head: "They have all been bewitched, even willing to associate with witches."
All witches must die!
The Great Plague!
The Great Purge!
These were all instigated by witches. All witches, even if they started good, would eventually turn evil, become corrupt, and try to destroy the home that humanity relies on for survival.
The 36th generation Dolan looked up: "What I feared has finally happened."
In those days, when the Lord's glory was still present, they could protect these ignorant common people, spread the doctrine, protect them, and let them know that witches were all evil.
But, as time went on, the Lord's gaze had not descended again for a long time, and gradually, these common people, who had been taught right from wrong under their tutelage, once again became ignorant.
Not only did they betray the Lord, but they even tried to alter the Lord's glory, defining their most glorious Salem Witch Trials as so-called persecution?
This was simply outrageous.
In 1992, when the then 36th generation Dolan heard that the Massachusetts State Legislature passed a resolution to restore the reputations of all victims, he was so furious that he called them heretics, knelt before the Lord, and prayed for the Lord's glory to descend once again, to protect them, to lead ignorant humanity back to the right path, and to once again worship and believe in the Lord.
That time.
The 36th generation Dolan seemed to hear the Lord's response.
The Lord seemed to say that when the Salem witches were exterminated, it would be the time for His glory to descend again. From then on, the 36th generation Dolan became even more enthusiastic about the cause of eliminating witches.
Because he believed that as long as all witch remnants were eradicated, and the Lord's glory returned, ignorant humanity would all gain new life and wisdom!
Even.
He also met a like-minded good friend, Nick Fury.
Originally, the Dolan Church only flourished on federal land, but with the help of his friend, Nick Fury, who also believed that ignorant humans needed guidance, the Dolan Church rapidly expanded, and its footprint began to spread across the European continent.
For so many years, the Dolan Church had been invincible.
It's just a pity.
Starting two years ago, with his friend, who was among the ignorant humans, tragically dying at the hands of that assassin who sold his soul to the devil, everything seemed to change all at once.
The new director didn't seem to be interested in his Dolan doctrine. He tried to meet with the director several times, but the other party only sent a mere local director to meet with him.
What was his status? The 36th generation Dolan of the Dolan Church. Even back then, when the Dolan Church had not yet left the Vatican, the Dolan who guided the Crusaders was second only to the Pope.
So, he directly refused.
Now.
He seemed to understand something?
S.H.I.E.L.D.
The Dark Lord.
George Stacy.
Witches!
All these people had become heretics. No wonder George Stacy had an unhappy expression when he ordered him to make Patty Finn reveal information about the Dark Lord.
The 36th generation Dolan had his assistant pull up the news footage of the Dark Lord killing the Voodoo Witch. Seeing George Stacy, Maria Hill, and the Dark Lord appearing on the same screen, he immediately came up with a very reasonable explanation.
They had all become heretics. His good friend wasn't killed by ignorant humans at all, but tragically died due to the machinations of heretics.
The devil... had already infiltrated his good friend's organization, which, in his view, could work with their Dolan Church to guide ignorant humans onto the right path.
"No!"
The 36th generation Dolan came back to his senses, looked up at his assistant: "The phone!"
The assistant was slightly stunned, looking at the 36th generation Dolan, who had been muttering to himself by the window for a long time, appearing so fanatical under the bright flashes of lightning. He came back to his senses when Dolan turned to look at him, and quickly took out his phone from his pocket, handing it to the 36th generation Dolan, who almost never liked using technology.
In the words of the 36th generation Dolan, technology was the greatest heresy, but in order to eliminate the remnants of the Salem witches around the world faster and better, the 36th generation Dolan turned a blind eye to others.
Soon.
The 36th generation Dolan took the phone, then walked to his desk, took out an address book from inside, and found the previously recorded phone number.
He dialed it.
Washington D.C.!
In a similarly grand building.
Singing and dancing.
A social gathering for politicians was underway.
"Hahahaha!"
Alexander Pierce, wearing glasses, was shaking hands and smiling with the host of the party: "Congratulations, Frank, no, it should be the Whip now!"
The man whose full name was Francis Underwood clinked glasses with Alexander Pierce: "And I must thank Mr. Pierce for his support."
"Of course!"
Alexander Pierce said with a smile, and just as he was about to speak, he felt his private phone vibrate, smiled slightly, and said to Frank: "Please excuse me for a moment."
He walked away.
He answered the phone.
"Hello!"
"Mr. Pierce, I need to tell you that S.H.I.E.L.D. has been infiltrated by an evil demon from Germany."
361. Pastor Dolan's Tradition
Witches are evil.
And this… the earliest understanding actually originated in Germany, or more precisely, from a book!
Grimm!
Witches are evil! They must be cruelly suppressed! Put them in scorching iron boots, cut off their heads, only then can justice be served!
In medieval Europe, ignorant and backward, all disasters and misfortunes could be attributed to the evil magic of witches, and the country that initiated the great purge of witches began in Germany.
In the year 1500, nearly thirty-five thousand witches were tried in Germany, and subsequently, the Crusaders appeared, beginning a massive purge that swept across the entire European continent in the name of 'justice.'
So… to say that witches are demons from Germany is not entirely baseless; it could also be said that it was a statement made by the Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan, who sought to be precise in order to ensure the other party believed him.
In fact, Alexander Pierce really believed it.
After the Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan said those words, Alexander Pierce froze for a moment.
Then… he was stunned!
The next second, a thought immediately appeared in Alexander Pierce's mind.
Oh no!
We've been exposed.
Germany.
Demons.
Infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Isn't this referring to them, Hydra? Is there anyone else who fits this description?
Shit!
How did this damn guy know?
After he regained his composure, Alexander Pierce cursed inwardly, glanced at the caller ID, and his thoughts raced wildly.
Alexander Pierce also knew the Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan.
After all, Nick Fury was his man, and although Alexander Pierce deeply regretted this now, at the time, Alexander Pierce was quite satisfied with Nick Fury.
This Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan was someone Nick Fury had contacted at the time, asking him to expedite the approval of the Dolan Church's cooperation qualification.
However, knowing him was one thing; not to mention that he was a high-ranking Hydra operative, but on the surface, he was also a federal councilor. Could a mere Dolan, who hadn't even obtained the title of a non-profit church, casually meet with him?
At most, they exchanged phone numbers and some pleasantries.
Unexpectedly… this surprise came so suddenly.
Alexander Pierce smiled and waved at Frank, the host of the party, who was not far away. Then, holding the phone, he turned around, his expression serious: "How many people know about this matter you mentioned?"
"Just me. I can't trust anyone else."
"...Very good!"
Alexander Pierce's voice came through the phone: "Don't tell anyone else about this for now. I'll send someone to pick you up."
"Okay!"
Alexander Pierce walked out of the party behind him and found Crossbones waiting for him outside. After Crossbones approached, he looked around, gave a few instructions, and then, looking at Crossbones, who had written down the phone number, he said, "You know what to do."
Crossbones nodded.
No one could know their secrets, unless they were their own people.
Or… they couldn't be defeated!
Like that peerless assassin who appeared and disappeared like a phantom, and even created his own persona, befriending several witches.
But this Thirty-sixth Dolan?
He knew too much, and he wasn't one of them. Most importantly, killing him would be as simple, easy, and effortless as killing a chicken!
Soon.
Crossbones turned and left.
Alexander Pierce watched as the call record on his phone disappeared on its own the next second, chuckled, turned around, and re-entered the party to continue his social activities.
Dolan Church.
The Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan hung up the phone, a look of joy on his face.
Indeed!
It was exactly as he had guessed.
Before making the call, he had not been without suspicion that this councilor might also have been seduced by witches, but fortunately, he had gambled correctly.
In fact, the Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan began to wonder whether the decision for S.H.I.E.L.D. to cut ties with the Dolan Church had come from this councilor's orders.
Thankfully!
This councilor was not an ignorant person and had not been seduced by the witches.
Actually… Alexander Pierce hadn't considered sending Hydra agents to New Orleans when Maria Hill was preparing to go there to contact the witches. He had heard about it, but upon hearing Maria Hill say that one of the witches had psychic abilities, he immediately abandoned the idea.
If they went, and she blabbed everything, wouldn't that be a disaster?
Directly causing trouble and working with the Dolan Church to label witches as evil?
What a joke.
Hydra was only evil, not stupid. How could they do such a foolish thing?
However, the Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan didn't know the truth and was still excited.
"You…"
The Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan returned the phone to his assistant and said in a deep voice, "Go down. Someone will be here soon. Wait for them downstairs, and then bring them straight up."
The assistant nodded and turned to leave.
Just then.
"Wait!"
"Sir?"
The Thirty-sixth Dolan looked at his assistant who had turned around, thought for a moment, and asked, "Where is Calder?"
Calder, the last legitimate Crusader of the Dolan Church, not a descendant, but a genuine Crusader. In a battle with a world-destroying witch, he was afflicted with a witch's curse, gaining immortality and infinite healing abilities. He was known as the Dolan Church's last witch hunter!
The assistant looked at his watch: "He's already boarded the plane. He's expected to be back at eight tomorrow morning."
The Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan nodded and waved his hand.
Seeing this, the assistant respectfully turned and left.
Soon.
The assistant turned, closed the door, and walked out.
"Prepare yourself."
The Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan looked at a small door in his office, as if speaking to someone: "I believe in you. You will become a qualified Thirty-seventh Generation Dolan."
As a qualified Dolan, one must have an iron will and a firm heart.
Like him.
After discovering his mother was a descendant of the Salem witches, he personally killed her, then framed his father. Witches are evil, and those who marry witches are even more despicable.
Every Dolan candidate must be like this.
Now.
He was preparing to step down, so the Thirty-seventh Generation Dolan, who had also personally made himself an orphan, needed to return, take over the Dolan's glory, and continue to lead the Dolan path, fighting for the Lord's cause.
On the street.
A profound silence.
Whoosh!
Locke and Carrie landed steadily on the street two blocks away from the Dolan Church, then walked towards the church.
Carrie was a little curious: "Why not go directly to the door?"
Locke replied: "Even for a funeral, you have to act the part. Directly barging in is impolite, and besides, we can't lose our decorum!"
Carrie tilted her head: "Are you talking about the notice? We already gave it in New Orleans."
The notice she had sent to the Dolan Church in New Orleans was addressed to the Dolan Church itself, not some New Orleans branch of the Dolan Church.
Locke raised an eyebrow: "Is that so?"
Carrie nodded.
Locke said "Oh," and looked up at the night sky: "Then let's go. It's almost one o'clock. The sooner we finish, the sooner we can go back. We still have to go to the hospital tomorrow."
However.
The two blocks didn't take long to walk. Basically, after Locke and Carrie finished their conversation, the Dolan Church, with a large cross on its building in the distance, was already in sight.
At the main entrance of the Dolan Church, two fully armed security guards stood with live ammunition.
Carrie looked up at the windows on the church wall.
Locke followed Carrie's gaze and laughed: "We're here for a funeral, not to be thieves. Let's go through the front door."
A notice had already been sent; if they still snuck around, what would that say?
However… Carrie nodded, and just as she was about to reach out her right hand to act, from the woods next to the church, two faint rustling sounds reached Locke and Carrie.
"Hmm?"
Carrie snapped back to attention, looking at the sneaky man in the woods next to the church, blinking, and then looking at Locke: "Is he calling us?"
Locke blinked, shook his head, and walked over to look at the man in the Dolan uniform in front of him.
"Hello…"
"You're here so fast?"
The Dolan assistant didn't wait for Locke to finish speaking, interrupting him directly. Then, he looked around, gestured for Locke to follow him, and said, "The Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan is already waiting for you. Follow me."
Locke and Carrie exchanged glances.
"Heh heh."
Locke couldn't help but chuckle, his steps unwavering. He gave Carrie a look and whispered, "Let's go, see what's going on."
It seemed they had been mistaken for someone else.
Locke found it a little amusing.
Soon.
The Dolan assistant led Locke and Carrie into the church, then into a very old-fashioned elevator that required manual locking.
With a hum.
The elevator began to ascend.
The Dolan assistant, fighting off sleepiness, let out a big yawn: "I thought it would take you more than an hour to get here. I didn't expect you to be so fast."
Locke and Carrie didn't speak.
The Dolan assistant turned to look at Locke, dressed in a suit, and Carrie, wearing boots and a trench coat. Seeing that the two didn't respond, he didn't seem surprised.
After all, having followed the Thirty-sixth Generation Dolan, he had seen people from this 'Bureau' before.
Peculiar.
It was quite normal.
Thud.
The elevator stopped.
The Dolan assistant pulled open the elevator door and led Locke and Carrie through the brightly lit corridor, even in the dead of night, to the office at the end of the corridor.
"Knock, knock!"
"Come in!"
Chapter 362: The First Guide
"My Lord."
The Dolan Assistant pushed the door open and walked in. He looked at The 36th Generation Dolanbehind the desk, then stepped aside and said, "They're here."
The 36th Generation Dolan hummed in response and looked up.
The next second.
The 36th Generation Dolan was dumbfounded.
Here?
Who the fuck is here?
The people I asked you to bring up weren't them.
The 36th Generation Dolan's thoughts raced, his pupils dilated, and he let out a cry of alarm!
"Dark…"
"Boom!"
"Bang!"
Carrie extended her right hand towards The 36th Generation Dolan, who had nearly jumped out of his chair in fright. With her left hand, she gripped the Dolan Assistant, who had just led them in, as if he were a chick. Magic surged, and she lifted him into the air.
Instantly.
The 36th Generation Dolan and the Dolan Assistant both simultaneously clutched their throats, as if wrestling with thin air.
With a click.
Locke flicked his right hand, produced a large lock, and locked the Room door from the inside. Then, he turned and raised an eyebrow at the Dolan Assistant dangling in the air.
"Aiya, aiya, aiya!"
Locke chuckled in surprise and looked at the Dolan Assistant: "How did you get strung up?"
The Dolan Assistant's face was flushed red.
Locke turned to Carrie and smiled: "They were kind enough to bring us up, we shouldn't repay kindness with enmity."
Carrie understood and retracted her left hand.
Thud!
The Dolan Assistant fell to the equally expensive floor with a splat, like a soft-legged shrimp. Then, he released his hands, pressed them to the floor, and coughed violently while gasping for air.
Locke walked over to the Dolan Assistant.
He crouched down.
And patted his back.
Locke's tone was like that of a friend, as he patted the Dolan Assistant's back. He watched the Dolan Assistant's coughing gradually subside and smiled: "How are you, feeling better?"
The Dolan Assistant seemed a bit weak, but his complexion was gradually improving.
Just then.
Thump, thump, thump!
It seemed the people outside had heard the unusual coughing, discovered something, and tried to push the door open, only to find it wouldn't budge. The large lock was being forcefully hammered against the door panel with loud thuds.
"Pastor!"
"My Lord."
"Dolan Pope!"
"…"
Dolan… Pope?
Locke listened to the title coming from outside, looked up at The 36th Generation Dolan, who was the only one Carrie had lifted into the air, and a smile played on his lips: "I didn't know there was such a title."
The 36th Generation Dolan's face was flushed red, seemingly on the verge of suffocating.
"Heh heh."
Locke chuckled and looked at Carrie: "Go on, do what you want to do. I'll stay here and chat with this assistant."
He had promised Carrie that there was still a Dolan Church in New York, and all persecution of Witches originated from this Dolan Church. The cases in New Orleans, the endless White bones of Witches in Lake Lyre, all stemmed from the Dolan Church.
Now… it was time to pay the debt.
Carrie looked at Locke and nodded.
The next second.
Boom!
Carrie turned, her eyes fixed on the loudly banging door. Magic surged, and in an instant, the three-meter-tall, gold-plated door flew straight backward.
In a flash.
The Dolan devotees who had swarmed to the doorway, attempting to break in and rescue people, and those standing behind the door, were caught off guard. They were directly smashed by the horizontally blasted door, and with a crash, were forcefully flattened against the wall opposite the corridor.
Flattened!
"Thud!"
Carrie walked out of the Room, looked up, and Syndra's crown appeared directly. Her hands spread open, and five dark orbs instantly materialized.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The Dolan followers rushing up from the stairs saw The 36th Generation Dolan suspended in mid-air, their faces instantly changed, and then, looking at Carrie, their weapons simultaneously opened fire.
However… as the dense hail of bullets was about to reach Carrie, five dark orbs rapidly began to revolve around the floating Carrie. Accompanied by clanging sounds, the bullets aimed at Carrie were instantly struck down by the dark orbs, then scattered in all directions.
In an instant!
The entire corridor was filled with continuous screams and cries!
But not from Carrie, but from the unlucky ones hit by their own bullets!
With a splat.
A devotee, unable to dodge, paused. He looked down at his chest, and before he could think, the back of his head stung. The moment his mouth opened, with a bang, his entire head exploded like a ripe watermelon.
"Ah!"
"fuck!"
"Don't shoot, shit!"
"Call the Police, quickly call the Police!"
"…"
Locke, in The 36th Generation Dolan's office, watched the Dolan followers scattering in the corridor, screaming and howling. He couldn't help but laugh at one of the phrases he heard.
Call the Police?
When you realize you're about to die, you know to call the Police Department?
What were you doing before?
Locke thought to himself, watching the Dolan followers fall one after another in the corridor. His eyes flickered, not with sympathy for their lost lives, but with a sigh of admiration that he was indeed a major client of Hell.
To put it this way.
Locke felt that sometimes, the amount of business he completed in a single day accounted for one-third of Hell's daily quota.
Mephisto should give him a special privilege.
For example, a VIP channel for entering and exiting Hell.
Boom!
The corridor was a mess, with Dolan followers strewn about!
Carrie looked up, directly broke through the roof, and flew out with The 36th Generation Dolan. Although the Dolan Church's purges and trials against Witches were all done in secret, Carrie would not do so.
The next second.
Locke heard the exclamations, screams, and shouts from outside, smacked his lips, and came back to his senses. He looked at the Dolan Assistant, who was trembling at his feet, clutching his head like an ostrich, then glanced at a leather sofa: "Come, let's chat."
The Dolan Assistant, clutching his head, trembled.
"Didn't hear me?"
Locke had already turned and leaned back on the sofa, crossing his legs. He looked at the Dolan Ostrich, who was still in place like it was incubating an egg, and chuckled: "I'm saying one thing, if you don't get up, then you go to Hell."
The words had just fallen.
A scream erupted, and the Dolan Ostrich sprang up from the floor as if on springs. Then, his hands swung awkwardly, and with an expression as ugly as if his mother had died, he stared at Locke.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
"Smile!"
"…Heh… heh."
"…"
Locke looked at the Dolan Ostrich, whose face was stiff and whose smile, indeed, didn't look like his mother had died, but rather like his entire family had died. He sighed, no longer insisting on anything, and pointed to the sofa next to him: "Sit!"
"No… I dare not!"
"Then you want to die?"
"No!"
The Dolan Ostrich trembled all over and said, then with a whoosh, sat on the sofa Locke pointed to, and his posture was, he could swear, the most upright it had ever been.
"That's more like it."
Locke said with a smile, then looked at the wine cabinet in The 36th Generation Dolan's office, shook his head, and took out his thunder bourbon from his inventory.
He didn't care for any of the wine here, nor would he drink it.
After all… from a certain perspective, every bottle of wine here was stained with the blood of Witches. As an ally of the Salem Witches, and the mastermind behind all of Salem, drinking such wine was somewhat similar to that saying: "Your humble servant is about to die in battle, why has Your Majesty surrendered first!"
"Come, have a drink!"
"No… thank you."
The Dolan Ostrich looked at the fine wine offered to him as if by a friend. Just as he was about to refuse, citing the Dolan followers' prohibition on alcohol, he saw Locke's narrowed eyes and shivered, quickly taking the cup and downing it in one gulp.
Then… he coughed violently.
Locke laughed heartily at the sight.
The Dolan Ostrich's face turned even redder.
Locke shook his head, leaned back on the sofa, crossed his legs, and took a sip of wine. He looked at the Dolan Ostrich, who was looking down, wiping his mouth, and clutching the trembling wine glass: "I ask, you answer. When I'm done asking, I'll let you live, in every sense of the word."
After all, the Dolan Ostrich had been a guide.
If even guides were killed, the implication wouldn't be good. The most important point was that this was the first guide, but definitely not the last, so the first one, no matter what, couldn't be killed.
What's more… this guy hadn't stained his hands with Witch blood, and The 36th Generation Dolan had already been taken out by Carrie, tied to a stake, and was about to face Witch judgment. So, if this guy answered truthfully, leaving him alive wouldn't be a big problem.
Indeed.
Upon hearing these words, the Dolan Ostrich couldn't help but look at Locke, and the instinctive flame of hope for life burned brightly in his eyes.
"A king's word is his bond!"
"…"
Although Dimensional God is not a true god, no matter what, Dimensional God is definitely on par with or a step above earthly gods. Not to mention his energy is endless, he doesn't need to plunder other dimensions; with the passage of time, dimensions will grow on their own, so calling himself a monarch is very normal!
Locke then looked at the Dolan Ostrich.
"Your Name.
"Louis, Martin Louis!"
"Nice name."
Locke nodded, looked at the Dolan Ostrich, no, looked at Martin Louis, and smiled: "How long have you been with The 36th Generation Dolan?"
Martin Louis swallowed: "Ten years!"
Locke raised an eyebrow, looking at the not-so-old Martin Louis: "How old are you?"
"Twenty!"
"…You've been with him since you were ten?"
"…Yes."
"Ten years old… what could you do?"
"…"
After Locke said this, he looked at Martin Louis curiously, and then saw Martin Louis's entire face become flushed and radiant.
Immediately after.
Humiliation!
Anger!
Unwillingness!
All sorts of expressions appeared simultaneously.
Wait!
Locke raised an eyebrow at the sight!