Walk Too Many Night Roads, and You'll Meet Ghosts

Inside the confessional, Russell hung up the phone and began to gently persuade him, "Sir, I know you're sad because you lost your wife, but you keep smiling like this..."

"It wasn't me, it was my friend!"

The man on the other side of the wooden board became alert, thinking that Russell might have discovered the truth.

Ever since his wife's 'mysterious' disappearance, he's been so excited he can't sleep at night. He wants to confide in someone but is afraid of being seen as suspicious. Unable to contain himself any longer, he came to the church to see the priest, but now, it seems the priest is a bit unreliable!

"Okay, your friend's wife is missing, and you're very sad..."

"It wasn't me, it was my friend's wife who went missing, and he's the one who's grieving." The man seemed to regret his words and got up to leave.

"Wait, sir, pass a message to your friend. Since things are already so sad, why not take advantage of the time we still have and do all the good food and fun things? Don't worry about the money, you won't need it later..."

Before Russell could finish speaking, the man opposite him had already fled in panic. He sighed, pushed open the door, and walked towards the church entrance.

I've been at the Los Angeles headquarters for almost a week now. At first, he was thinking that the World Quest might be triggered in the church, but now he's given up on that idea.

Outside the door, Sister Madeline swept fallen leaves with a broom, as she did every day, as if she could never finish.

"Child, are you leaving?" Sister Madeline asked with a smile.

Russell was taken aback when he heard this, and immediately shook his head. "No, I was tired of sitting, so I came out to stretch my legs."

"What a coincidence, I'm just tired from all the activity and would like to sit down for a while." Sister Madeline smiled kindly and handed her the broom.

Russell silently took the broom and began sweeping the fallen leaves. Sister Madeline sat down on the stone steps with a flourish, took out a Marlboro cigarette with a red and white casing, and began to smoke.

Russell pretended not to see it. Sister Madeline had dedicated her life to her faith and was a respectable person. A few minor flaws were harmless.

"Good boy, want one?"

"Uh, okay!" Russell wanted to refuse, but the cigarette had already been handed to him, so he had no choice but to accept it.

Five seconds later, wisps of white smoke appeared, and an old man and a young man sat side by side, with a broom thrown on the ground.

"Sister Madeline, are there any evil spirits or demons in Los Angeles?" Russell began to probe. The old nun was very senior and didn't seem like a fool like Jacob; perhaps she knew something.

Sister Madeline, holding a cigarette between her fingers, said solemnly, "There are two devils in Los Angeles who are good at bewitching people and making them willingly fall into hell. Even the Lord is helpless against them."

"Who are they? Where are they?" Russell asked impatiently.

"Here!"

Sister Madeline raised her hand and tapped her chest. "One is called power, the other is called money. Faith is utterly vulnerable before these two devils."

Russell: "..."

Sister Madeline tossed her cigarette butt aside, stomped it out, picked up her broom, and continued sweeping the fallen leaves, "Child, go out for a walk if you want, but remember to come back early. The nights in Los Angeles are dangerous."

"OK!"

Russell kept turning back to look at Sister Madeline suspiciously. Was this intelligence?

I think so!

The church is located in the northwest of downtown Los Angeles, very close to the famous Hollywood. Russell drove there and strolled around the Hollywood Walk of Fame and Universal Studios.

I wasn't very lucky; I didn't meet any beautiful female celebrities. I was probably at the director's or investor's house rehearsing the script.

Of course, the absence of female celebrities doesn't mean there are no beautiful women; after all, this is Hollywood, a place never lacking in beautiful women.

Russell ordered an iced water at the coffee shop. A stunning blonde woman walked past the window, her model-like figure drawing a lot of attention. Her companion, however, seemed out of place—an elderly Chinese man wearing a hat. The two walked and argued, but they looked...very close!?

Russell's gaze followed the two until they disappeared around the street corner before slowly withdrawing it. Out of his sight, the blonde beauty leaned against the wall, wiping the cold sweat from her forehead.

"What's wrong, Bauer?" the old Chinese man asked in confusion. His partner was pale, as if he had heatstroke.

Recalling the gaze from behind, the blonde woman was still shaken. "Cruz, once this case is over, hurry back to Boston. Los Angeles is too dangerous."

Russell sat in the café for two hours, only leaving when night fell and the streetlights began to twinkle. Instead of returning to the church, he drove around aimlessly, gradually heading towards the city center.

Sister Madeline said that the nights in Los Angeles are dangerous, Russell decided to see just how dangerous it was and whether he would encounter ghosts while walking at night.

He took out his Terminator sunglasses and put them on, covering the blue light in his eyes. The used car avoided the brightly lit main streets and drove on the dimly lit side streets.

In the middle of the night, Russell came up empty-handed and stopped at a gas station to refuel. Several hours later, there was indeed danger, but not the kind he had imagined that 911 could solve.

At this moment, three or five motorcycles with loud music arrived at the gas station. They were high-handle motorcycles with a tough-guy vibe, but the riders were anything but tough. They were dressed in red and blue, and had a strong resemblance to the Matt of the Funeral Love Family (a subculture known for its flamboyant and often outlandish fashion).

The tattooed woman sitting in the back seat saw Russell wearing sunglasses and trying to look cool late at night, so she gave him a universally recognized hand gesture. Russell smiled shyly and quietly rolled up the car window.

On the streets of Los Angeles at night, the colorful lights are dazzling, and the people, hollowed out by the devil, wander around like walking corpses, empty shells without faith, searching for their other half in loneliness, and passing the unbearable emptiness of the deep night.

Several motorcycles roared past, their loud music causing passersby to frown. They lined up, some screaming, others howling and wailing along with the music.

Completely unaware, a beat-up secondhand car was weaving through the traffic, following them at a leisurely pace.

Russell was very lucky tonight; he saw a ghost late at night, and it was the same kind of ugly ghost as the ones in the small Mexico border town.

About ten minutes later, the motorcycle turned a corner and drove into a deep alley. The members of the Funeral Love Family knocked on the large steel door embedded in the wall, took out a crumpled US dollar, and were put inside by the black security guard in a tight vest.

Russell stopped the car, straightened his collar in the rearview mirror, looking presentable and reassuring, before pushing open the car door and walking towards the large steel gate.

The street was pitch black at both ends, with a chandelier hanging above a large iron gate and a huge, stinking garbage can next to it.

Russell knocked on the iron gate, and the burly security guard frowned upon seeing his priestly attire. "Sorry, we don't receive clergy here."

Russell didn't say anything, but took out five Franklin and spread them out in front of the security guard like a deck of cards.

The security guard swallowed hard. "Sir, this has nothing to do with money, it's a matter of principle!"

"Stop joking, buddy. I heard there are Bal Masqué here, so I specially arranged this as a priest's party..." Russell pointed out the street. "Besides, the rules here are too rigid. I can just go over and buy a costume and change. It only takes five minutes. Why bother?"

"There's nothing we can do, rules are rules..."

"Indeed, you are a person of principle."

Russell adjusted his sunglasses and added two more Franklin: "Apart from the entrance fee, the rest is yours."

Upon hearing such a question about his professional ethics, the security guard's expression changed drastically. He snatched Franklin from in front of him and slammed him into... his own pocket.

Welcome!

After Russell went inside, the security guard's expression turned cold, and he pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Boss, there's something wrong with the cameras on stations 2 and 3..."