Exorcist's Self-Cultivation

10:31 AM.

Du Wei, holding a stack of papers, sat down on the sofa.

Opposite him were the restrained-looking Mina and her child.

Initially, before the oppressive feeling of that dream had set in—yesterday, to be exact—Du Wei had planned to get in touch with some of his former patients whose medical records seemed quite strange and were possibly related to an Evil Spirit.

For instance, on January 12, Mia and her family came to consult about their condition, accompanied by a family member.

They claimed that a doll that could not be destroyed or lost had appeared in their home—Annabelle.

For instance, on February 17, a little girl named Reagan, after a session of Spirit Summoning, believed she was a man named Hoddy; her parents, however, said Hoddy was an imaginary friend conjured up by Reagan.

For instance, on February 28, the boy who suffered from coulrophobia…

But after having that dream, Du Wei temporarily suppressed the idea, as it required time.

So, he decided to make preparations on two fronts.

...

Recollecting his thoughts, Du Wei glanced at Mina opposite him, then filled out the following information on the form on the paper.

[Name: Mina]

[Age: 34]

[Gender: Female]

[Occupation: None at present]

[Condition: Specifically, having dreams about the death of her brother and husband, with sleeping time increasing and always feeling like there's an unseen person following her]

With the last word written, Du Wei put down the pen.

"Father Tony has told me about the general situation over the phone, so, Mrs. Mina... no, Mrs. Mina, I may need to discuss some details with you,"

As he spoke, Du Wei glanced at the child leaning against Mrs. Mina.

This was a 14-year-old blonde girl, looking down, seemingly somewhat introverted.

Mrs. Mina sighed involuntarily upon hearing Du Wei's words, "I will tell you everything."

Her expression was somewhat vacant, as if lost in reminiscence, and she looked more aged than she actually was due to a slight hunch in her back.

"Mr. Exorcist, I... I don't know how to explain, what I've encountered is very complicated. The church seems to have been considering it all this time, and they haven't given me a definite answer, so actually, it's just me who feels that I've encountered an Evil Spirit,"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Du Wei nodded calmly, "I've heard about this from Father Tony, but I am someone who resolves issues, so please don't worry about it."

"Okay..."

Mrs. Mina relaxed a little bit and then continued with some anxiety, "The thing is, my brother, Luke Conan Doyle, died in an incident involving an Evil Spirit. It was about after midnight on the second day that I dreamed about him."

"I remember it very clearly, the dream was set in his recording studio at home. Um... he was a voice actor, specializing in dubbing for certain shows, you are aware of this profession, aren't you?"

Du Wei hummed in acknowledgment, gesturing for her to continue.

"That's good, I was worried you wouldn't understand the scene I'm describing."

Mrs. Mina's expression eased slightly but then tensed up again, "The recording studio wasn't large, but it had good sound insulation. He was standing outside the recording booth, expressionless and soaking wet, as if he had been through a rain shower."

"At that time, I had already lost contact with him, and I had reported it to the police, so the first thing I did was ask him where he was. He didn't answer me, instead, he pointed at the recording studio's door, as if hinting at something."

"Then, what devastated me was that the moment he pointed at the door, the studio's door opened.

His whole body seemed to be yanked by some force at high speed, and the next second he was inside the studio, with the door closing behind him."

"But I found that my perspective had also entered the studio."

Hearing this, Du Wei couldn't help but picture the scene of the studio in his mind, its cramped space symbolizing urgency and psychological oppression.

Mrs. Mina continued, "I saw him unnaturally floating up, then his whole body twisted together, from head to toe, his clothes melding with his flesh into a contorted mass.

Blood splattered all over the studio, and I just watched him, powerless. I wanted to scream, but couldn't make a sound. I wanted to escape, but found that I couldn't move my gaze."

"Blood... more and more of it. Soon, I realized that the blood on the floor of the studio was rising frantically. I could even feel that stench and sticky sensation crawling over every inch of my skin."

"After I woke up, I was completely drained, as though I had died."

"I almost fell apart, Exorcist sir, I told my husband about it, but he simply wouldn't believe me. What should I do?"

Mrs. Mina finished speaking and couldn't help but sob softly, her face buried in her hands, her body shaking uncontrollably.

And Du Wei just hummed calmly, in reality, he couldn't empathize.

However, as an "Exorcist," it was natural for him to appear a bit more sympathetic.

So, Du Wei comforted her, saying, "I understand your fear and dread. Rest assured, I will do my utmost to help you resolve this. Please tell me what happened next."

"Hmm, thank you, Exorcist sir."

Mrs. Mina expressed her gratitude and then said, "Later, I had another dream, this time about my husband. He was the director of a large auction house. I'm not clear about the specifics, but I suspect his death had something to do with an auction item."

"A large auction house? Did he work at Berson in the heart of New York City?"

"Yes, at Berson Auction House."

"Hmm, that certainly is a large auction house. And what was the auction item?"

With this, Du Wei frowned, for he had asked Alex afterward where the Antique Clock was purchased, and it was indeed from Berson Auction House.

And also being an auction item...

Subconsciously, Du Wei glanced at the Antique Clock hanging on the wall. The overlapping hands were still revolving tirelessly, as if they would never stop.

Mrs. Mina was unaware of Du Wei's thoughts, she was just recalling the events in her dream and continued to describe.

"It was a Golden Brooch, my husband had mentioned it before. It dates back to the last century and seems to have some religious significance, with a series of letters on it that someone intentionally ground off, leaving only a faint 'va' visible; of course, he wasn't sure."

"Oh, right, the last time I saw him in the dream was before the last time we met, it was raining that day. I dreamed he was on a bus, wearing that Golden Brooch on his chest."

"I waved at him, but he just pointed at the Golden Brooch, then as if trying to tell me something, opened his mouth and shouted loudly, but I couldn't hear anything."

"Then, he seemed desperate, no longer paying attention to me, instead he frantically slammed his body against the bus door. I guess he was trying to escape, but it was to no avail."

"I kept calling his name in the dream, but he couldn't hear me at all, and he kept hitting, quickly bleeding profusely. I was powerless and could only watch him bang against the door until he... until I woke from the dream."

"And yesterday, I had another dream..."

"It was about myself…"