I Am Your Natural Enemy

Moreover, just thinking about the thousands buried here made him reluctant to get involved.

Suddenly, thunder exploded, rumbling in the sky, yet no rain fell, only the ever-thickening black clouds, pressing down as if suffocating.

Vast resentment continuously surged, the Yin Qi grew heavier, like a moving black cloud.

Wen Yan, holding a child, led nearly two thousand lost souls, striding forward on foot.

On the other side, the sorcerer who received the news on the island’s opposite side was already preparing to escape.

But as he stepped out to take a look, he noticed the ship on the other side of the island had vanished, leaving only a piece of rope behind.

In the distant sea, a dilapidated ship with barnacle-covered surface, like a shipwreck, floated eerily on the water.

Sensing someone’s gaze, a bare-chested water ghost at the ship’s prow immediately lifted a thick rope, flashing a brilliant smile, and raised a thumb with his other hand.

Realizing escape was impossible, the sorcerer immediately dialed a phone number.

"Do you intend to let the outsiders swagger around here unchecked?

To avoid direct conflict with them, do you intend to abandon me directly?!"

On the other end, an old man glanced at the tree pit photos already online, speaking expressionlessly.

"You handled things too carelessly yourself; now, no one can assist you.

If you can reach the wharf to your west, someone will be there to meet you."

After saying this, the old man hung up, removed the phone’s battery, and tossed the phone into the furnace.

There’s no way to intervene, nor possibly help; the corpses have been dug up and posted online. Deleting them now is useless.

Some things can be done, but can’t be known or shown openly, especially to the general public.

As the call ended, the enraged sorcerer stood upstairs, looking into the distance, watching the Yin Qi and resentment almost converging into fog and approaching continuously, paying no further attention.

He first sent a final message to familiar sorcerers, then immediately proceeded to the largest hall on the second floor.

Pressing a button, the carpet on the floor rolled up automatically, revealing densely packed, various strange runes and patterns on the floor.

He removed the cloth on the table, exposing a dharma altar constructed seemingly from various animal bones, with a central skull resembling a human but with two horns.

He swallowed a poisonous insect, chanting the curse scripture in a frenzied tone.

Meanwhile, on the ship nearly out of the Southern Sea’s range, Valak, joyfully bragging with the water ghost, glanced back toward the Northeast.

"Is someone summoning me?"

"Our Star Lord seems to be over there? Is it our Star Lord calling you?"

"No." Valak realized, yes, since it wasn’t Wen Yan summoning him, it must be Wen Yan’s enemy.

"Aren’t you going to respond? Didn’t you say that according to the rules, you must respond?" The water ghost, handing Valak a tomato, curiously asked.

"According to the rules, indeed, but I’m already in a summoned state, and besides, I’m being expelled, even Jesus can’t make me go!"

Valak replied, taking a small tomato, continuing to lazily lean against a rope.

The water ghost gave a thumbs-up, and they continued listening to Valak boast.

Now he was recounting twenty years ago, summoned by a little boy, fighting a priest.

...

On the island, the sorcerer, seeking outside help, directly targeted Valak, the least scrupulous and easiest to summon among the 72 Demons.

Unfortunately, Valak did not respond at all.

The sorcerer, infuriated, shook a bell to summon his few apprentices and assistants.

"With a formidable enemy at hand, if we can’t overcome this hurdle, none of us will survive."

He knew very well that the promise of someone meeting at the wharf was nonsense; his retreat was already cut off, and rash escape meant certain death. A desperate fight was better.

He took a small knife, instructing the apprentices to strip off their shirts.

Each apprentice’s back bore strange, incomprehensible patterns, of which the apprentices themselves knew little.

At this moment, as they removed their shirts as usual, kneeling and chanting scriptures with closed eyes, the sorcerer swiftly slit each apprentice’s throat with the knife.

Then he used the knife to strip the skin from their backs.

Stripping off his own clothes, he affixed these pieces of skin to himself like garments.

Each piece perfectly connected with his tattoos. He used a tool resembling a stapler to attach the skins he had cut to his body.

In an instant, the previously indistinct tattoos converged into a fearsome shape, like a demon or an evil ghost.

A ferocious aura began to emanate from him, and when he donned a red-faced, sharp-toothed mask, the savage and wicked aura soared even higher.

Not far from there, in the crimson forest, a chilling wind blew, causing the blood-red objects on the trees to drift like pollen in the wind.

The trees, initially tinged with blood, began to turn maple red.