Evil Spirit

Kraun wolfed down the black bread he had found hard to swallow just moments ago, then drained the water from the earthen cup in one gulp.

Then he rubbed his hands together a few times, gathered up the dust on the floor, sat cross-legged, and used his finger to write the words he remembered in the dirt while softly pronouncing them.

Strands of insight surfaced in his mind, and his hazy memories gradually became clear.

He kept writing and reading aloud, immersed in his own world and utterly unaware of fatigue.

Every bit of effort brought immediate positive feedback. It was an addictive feeling.

If he had possessed this cheat in his previous life, how could he possibly have been such a lousy student?

He would definitely have been a champion among champions, the most outstanding kid in the country—the kind every parent compared their child to.

Gradually, he lost awareness of the outside world, focusing on recalling and writing down the still-unfamiliar words. Even when the patrol officers occasionally came by to inspect him, he never noticed.

Memories were like a wet sponge. Give it a squeeze, and something would always come out.

But no matter how much water it held, after being squeezed countless times, the sponge was nearly dry.

When Kraun could no longer recall any words that would raise his proficiency, he finally emerged from his self-absorbed state.

He had no idea how much time had passed. The room had gone completely dark, and only the dim yellow light from outside allowed him to barely make out the writing on the floor.

He silently called forth the golden wall, which appeared before his eyes.

[Faruk Language: 986/1000; Tier 1] (You have left the ranks of language novices, but you are still some distance from conversing fluently.)

Just a little more. He needed to find a new way to improve.

Kraun stroked his chin and turned toward the source of the light, deep in thought.

After repeated practice, he had come to understand that every point of proficiency represented a word and its related phrases that he had mastered.

In other words, he currently knew fewer than a thousand words.

That was far from enough for a native in his twenties, especially since he still had to deal with Father's questioning tomorrow.

Kraun rose to his feet, walked to the door, and shouted twice, "Officer Yalu! Officer Yalu!"

During his practice, his memories had continuously awakened as well. He had already clearly and completely sorted through the former owner's daily life.

As long as he had spoken with someone he had met over the past few years, he could recall their name and fragments of their interactions.

The Potion he had given Yalu last time had been improved by the original owner's father. It was good stuff that could restore a man's vigor and keep him fighting all night without going limp.

"What do you want? Why aren't you asleep in the middle of the night?"

Yalu came to the iron bars with bleary eyes and a resentful expression. He was the fat patrol officer who had brought the black bread.

He had only just fallen asleep when he was woken up, and he was full of irritation.

Although he had acted indifferent during the day, saying that someone possessed by an Evil Spirit only needed a good fire—

At night, however, he still felt uneasy.

He had come by twice to take a look and found that Kraun was merely writing in the dirt and muttering to himself.

Only then had Yalu relaxed enough to reluctantly go to sleep.

"Speak. What is it?"

Kraun plastered a smile across his face. "Officer Yalu, could you bring me my Herbalism book?"

When he had been brought to the Patrol Squad that morning, he had still been carrying a Revolver and a Herbalism book. Those items, along with the few coins in his pocket, had all been confiscated by the patrol officers.

"You're still in the mood to read?" The patrol officer looked at him suspiciously, his hand instinctively reaching for the pistol at his waist.

Kraun understood what he meant. His entire family had died in an Evil Spirit incident, yet he was still in the mood to read. Something was wrong with that.

He forced a somber expression onto his face. "I can't sleep. You know our family depended entirely on my father. Now that he's gone, those of us still alive have to support ourselves."

Although Yalu's hand remained on his pistol, his expression softened considerably.

Seeing that, Kraun hurriedly added, "In the future, Officer, you can get Potions from me at a ten percent discount."

"Thirty percent."

"Deal! But only three Potions a month can be thirty percent off. The rest can only be ten percent off."

"Three is fine." Yalu lowered his guard, a lecherous grin appearing on his face. Three were enough for a month's supply.

"Wait here. I'll get it for you."

"Thanks!"

Yalu quickly returned with a thick book and thoughtfully gave him a kerosene lantern as well.

Sure enough, without benefits, who would be willing to offer such heartfelt help?

After thanking him, Kraun eagerly began reading.

The book was old and worn, densely marked with explanations of words and the properties of mutated herbs. It was clear that the original owner had studied this book diligently.

Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night!

Kraun felt that he had never worked this hard in either of his lives.

Watching his proficiency continuously rise filled him with endless satisfaction.

The next day, at noon.

A glint of gold flashed through Kraun's eyes.

[Faruk Language: 1688/5000; Tier 3] (You have mastered this language proficiently.)

[Herbalism: 119/2000; Tier 2] (You can identify most common herbs and know their properties well. Your success rate in brewing Potions has improved considerably.)

Tier 2 Herbalism was displayed in white text, while Tier 3 Faruk Language was displayed in green.

In just one day, he had crammed the vocabulary of his previous life's College English Test Band 4.

Meanwhile, in the Patrol Squad's reception room.

Hull's face was ashen. He had merely gone out to assist Father with an Evil Spirit possession case, yet an even more serious Evil Spirit incident had occurred in town.

More than ten people had died on Skunk Street overnight!

The circumstances were so vile that his captain would likely have a very hard time of it unless they could catch the Evil Spirit responsible.

But how terrifying would an Evil Spirit capable of causing such devastation be? Even with a hundred times the courage, he would not dare try to capture it.

Father Nick sat solemnly in black robes. A golden badge hung from his chest, engraved with burning flames and a hammer within them. It was the Holy Emblem of Hephaestus, Lord of Flame.

The Faruk Kingdom was located in the north of the continent, where winters were exceptionally cold.

Lord of Flame was the dominant faith here. People were grateful to this deity for bringing warmth through fire amid the bitter cold.

Nick's expression was grave. He had already examined the victims.

He found traces of Soul Condensation on all of them, which meant their souls had been extracted!

Souls truly existed. They resided somewhere within a living being's head, intangible and elusive.

Yet through an evil method, a soul could be solidified into a tangible object.

The Evil Spirit could actually use Soul Condensation. This made the matter somewhat troublesome for him.

"Father, what should we do now?" Hull asked for help.

For this kind of supernatural case, they could only rely on this Priest of the Lord of Flame.

Nick came back to himself. "Bring Kraun to the church. I will perform an exorcism ritual there. If he truly is possessed by an Evil Spirit, we can destroy it directly. If he is not possessed, it will clear him of suspicion."