Exorcist's Self-Cultivation-Chapter 644 - 641. It is a product of fear

Chapter 644: 641. It is a product of fear. Chapter 644: 641. It is a product of fear. When the piano keys were pressed, and the first note sounded.

The Lullaby had already begun its prelude.

The Lullaby from Ryan Hamel came in handy once again at this moment.

The piano was made by someone else; the tune was also composed by someone else.

One had to admit, it was hard to associate this genius, whose life flashed by like a shooting star, with Ryan having such a deep connection.

Du Wei’s fingertips danced, continuously playing the Lullaby.

Freddy waited by his side, like a servant.

...

And those vast shadows, spreading like flowing water from the dark figure, were frantically expanding.

Wherever the tune could reach, the power of the shadows influenced.

It was a Demon Spirit.

And all along, the shadow had not really utilized the Demon Spirit’s abilities, or one could say, the combat power it demonstrated did not match its true capabilities.

That was because the opponents were a bit too strong.

However.

Now, within the Voodoo Cult, the shadow finally found a place to unleash itself.

Looking over the history of the shadow’s growth.

The cults had provided a significant boost.

Be it the Veda Sect or the current Voodoo Cult.

Without them, the shadow would have hardly become a Demon Spirit by now.

It was also taking the fall for Du Wei.

At this moment.

Inside the Voodoo Cult.

The surviving cultists all heard the sound of the Lullaby.

They were all bewildered, totally unclear about what exactly was happening within the Voodoo Cult.

First, everyone had been drugged and began the unrestricted gathering.

Then the Evil Spirit rampaged, and many died.

Afterward, the Evil Spirits were successively slain one after another by a sinister ghoul wielding dual blades. Before these people could even recover from the thrill of survival, they heard the eerie Lullaby.

The tune carried a heavy demonic intent.

Upon hearing it, one felt as if in a dream, with a strong urge to sleep filling their minds, and Illusions seemed to be conjured before their eyes. They saw a pair of cold eyes.

Then, everything appeared to turn into a whirlpool.

All the Voodoo Cultists, one by one, fell to the ground, succumbing to sleep.

Only the hunters were unaffected.

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Because they were all in the very center of the Voodoo Cult.

The hunter who had come out earlier was just handling the chaos; the rest believed that a single hunter would be enough to resolve the situation.

After all, in some sense, they were different from the hunters known to the public.

All of them were believers of the Everlasting Flower.

With even stronger abilities.

Marcus was the strongest among the hunters of the Voodoo Cult and the one who had lived the longest.

“Something has happened to our people.”

In the central area of the Voodoo Cult, Marcus rose from the ground, looking at the giant floral plant that stood two meters tall in front of him, his tone icy cold to the extreme.

The floral plant emitted a twinkling, dreamlike glow.

But beneath the plant, that is, within the flowerbed, it appeared incredibly horrifying, as there was not a speck of soil, only blood.

Blood that flowed and bubbled as if alive.

As if it were a living thing.

But the color of the blood seemed extremely dim, as if diluted with water, faintly revealing the root system of this gigantic flower, which appeared to cover something round.

It was somewhat like a human head.

But only a skull remained, leaving no way to distinguish between male or female.

The flower, of course, was the Everlasting Flower, and the skull was Minette’s.

The entire skull had cracks spreading across it, yet it never completely split open, preventing the roots and tendrils of the Everlasting Flower from penetrating it.

At that moment, one of the remaining hunters, coldly spoken to by Marcus, said, “There are no other hunters nearby; we’ve already checked, so it must be the presence that stirred the Everlasting Flower earlier?”

“It seems like a Demon Spirit, but it also seems connected to the Everlasting Flower, what is that?”

Marcus said indifferently, “No matter what it is, let’s kill it. I can feel the Everlasting Flower’s longing for it, and we have no other choice.”

The hunters nodded in agreement, “We can no longer be considered human. After taking this path, we lost our right to choose, but after this time, the Everlasting Flower might completely assimilate us, and then…”

Marcus said coldly, “Stop talking, leave one person here to wait, the rest come with me. I can sense the presence; it is within the Voodoo Cult, and it seems to be everywhere.”

“Buck, you stay.”

After issuing the order, Marcus left with the others without another word.

These men were all clad in loose-fitting clothes that concealed their true faces. They had not wished to venture out, but now, the Everlasting Flower’s craving for that unknown existence made it impossible for Marcus and the others to defy its will.

Only the man known as Barr remained behind.

He watched as Marcus and the others departed, and after a long while, his face grew somber and angry.

He turned his head.

Then looked again at the blood pool that was becoming increasingly transparent; Barr numbly stretched his hand toward it.

Hiss…

His wrist split open on its own, and fresh blood began to ooze continuously.

It was strange to say.

A human’s blood volume isn’t much, but when his blood entered the blood pool, the previously transparent blood water was immediately stained red and became extremely viscous.

A little while later.

Buck’s wrist healed, and he said in a low voice, “Please wait a little longer; Marcus and the others will soon bring you the existence you desire.”

This was a method of sacrifice, a way to soothe the Everlasting Flower.

The Everlasting Flower was not something from the Voodoo Cult similar to the Blood of Jesus; rather, it was Minette’s head underneath the root system of the flower that was the key.

Nearly two hundred years ago.

The Voodoo Cult obtained Minette’s head, and at the time they all believed it belonged to the Chief of the Demons, seeking to steal its power.

People are like that, never satisfied with the status quo.

Even when they are completely ignorant, they still harbor wild ambitions in their hearts.

But the Voodoo Cult tried many ways and failed to achieve their goal, so they switched to another method, discovering the answer from that Stele.

Fear is faith, and what primitive faith represents is fear.

The entire Voodoo Cult chose this path. The previous generation of Voodoo leaders spread a great lie, deceiving everyone into joining, giving rise to an Everlasting Flower that should not have existed.

They came to believe in the existence of this entity.

The worship and fear born from a mere few hundred or a thousand people mean nothing, but the Voodoo Cult is vast, with all of West Gana’s black community being cultists.

Strength lies in numbers, a phrase that is always useful at any time.

However, the journey was not beautiful, and the outcome was terrifying.

The Everlasting Flower took root on the Chief of the Demons, absorbed the flesh and blood of that head, obliterated its consciousness, and yet it became increasingly bizarre.

All of the Voodoo Cultists, to varying degrees, were influenced by it.

Although these people were alive.

Their souls had long become a part of the Everlasting Flower.

It was, in a way, laughable.

The Voodoo faith was ancestral worship; they believed that after death, the spirit would return to the embrace of their ancestors, but as it turned out, they all became fertilizer for the Everlasting Flower after death.