Chapter 347: The Demon-Busting Duo, the Warrens
Allen pulled up his pants and hopped off the dissection table.
Barry held a scalpel in his hand, staring at the corpse soaked in urine, at a total loss on where to begin.
He had to admit—Allen's method of exorcism was certainly... unconventional.
"Master, what's 'boy urine'?" Bruce couldn't help asking curiously.
"A man who hasn't had sex."
Allen answered glumly. Not exactly something to be proud of.
"I see," Bruce's eyes lit up with relief.
If Allen hadn't interfered, he would've lost his virginity to that old hag from ancient Greece.
As he thought about it, he figured if something like that happened again, he'd just pull down his pants and pee on the spot.
But that wasn't the real reason. In truth, Allen had secretly activated his priest skill, Divine Domain, severing the enemy's connection to dark sorcery.
Inside the Divine Domain, all negative black magic was nullified.
As a result, the spellcaster had failed.
Suppressing his disgust, Barry prepared to complete the unfinished autopsy.
Suddenly, the female corpse snapped her eyes open and sat bolt upright. Her lychee-sized eyes locked onto the three men in the room.
"She's risen from the dead!"
Barry and Bruce scrambled behind Allen in terror.
Professional problems should be handled by professionals.
"Hello there."
Allen gave an awkward wave and apologized sincerely, "I'm truly sorry for what I just did to you. I'm willing to take responsibility."
"You killed my daughter. I'll make you all pay."
The corpse's hoarse voice was thick with hatred and the thirst for vengeance.
"Who's your daughter?"
Allen looked utterly baffled, completely lost on the character dynamics.
"Just wait. I'm not only going to kill all of you—I'll bury countless others with you."
With that, the female corpse laid back down, as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, far away beneath a church...
A middle-aged nun, who had been remotely controlling the corpse, slumped in despair.
She turned to a bookshelf behind her and pulled out an ancient tome bound in human skin.
The blackened writing within was penned in human blood, darkened over time.
The Book of Solomon.
It recorded the summoning rituals for the 72 demons.
Now completely hopeless, the middle-aged nun no longer held back.
She slit her palm with a ritual dagger and pressed it to the book's cover.
Chanting began.
She intended to guide the 72 demons of Hell into the human world, bringing about the apocalypse.
Witches who practiced black magic often grew cruel and twisted, obsessed with destruction. To them, the end of the world was the ultimate goal.
Of course, whether the 72 demons could actually destroy the world was questionable.
After all, if they really had that power, why would they need to be recorded in a book? Just boasting, really.
Still, they could certainly bring about disaster.
As the incantation ended—
The nun showed no signs of life. Clearly, she had sacrificed her soul to complete the ritual.
At that same moment—
On a flight heading to Los Angeles, the Warrens—Ed and Lorraine—suddenly had a bad feeling.
Lorraine, seated by the window, looked out at the bustling cityscape. In the blink of an eye, it transformed into a hellish inferno, teeming with demons.
"What's wrong?"
The demon-busting duo was inseparable, their bond so close they shared intuition. Ed sensed her shift immediately.
"I feel like things are spiraling out of control."
Her vision returned to normal. Leaning against Ed's shoulder, Lorraine said in a faintly sorrowful voice, "Ed, this time we might not make it back."
"I'll always be by your side."
Ed took her hand, giving her strength and comfort.
…
By dawn, the autopsy was complete.
Barry requested some time off—last night's events had been far too bizarre.
Even seasoned police officials were shaken to the core by the countless inexplicable things that had occurred with the corpse. His request was immediately approved to let him recover before returning to work.
Barry returned to the haunted house with Allen, convinced that with a master exorcist present, his safety was guaranteed.
"Whip up something to eat."
Allen flopped onto the couch and casually ordered the spirits around.
To Barry, it looked like he was talking to thin air.
Bruce wasn't fazed. He'd seen how many spirits lived in this house and no longer feared them. But being back in the place where tragedy struck, he couldn't suppress his grief.
Then came a scene that made Barry's scalp tingle.
The fridge opened on its own, ingredients floated to the counter, kitchen tools began prepping them, and the stove lit up—all by themselves.
In reality, it was Vivian, Violet, and Moira busy at work.
"I don't eat cilantro," Allen said offhandedly.
Violet spun around and shot him a glare—there was no cilantro in the house to begin with.
When have you ever seen white people cook with cilantro?
Naturally, what landed on their plates was a bland, flavorless white-people meal, gently floated over to the three of them.
Barry stared in awe, hesitant to take a bite.
Only after seeing Allen and Bruce eat heartily did he work up the courage to try it.
"Most spirits aren't that scary. The dangerous ones are the evil spirits. But if you get along with them, you can even become friends…"
As he spoke, Allen glanced at Bruce and gave him a knowing, mischievous smile: "...and do some truly wonderful things together."
"What kind of things?"
Barry, still green and clueless, didn't catch the innuendo.
Bruce's hand froze. He shot Allen a look of deep regret and frustration.
Of all the things to bring up… That damned master of his just loved picking old wounds. Bruce really felt the urge to punch him.
And not just this Bruce—every version of Batman in Allen's multiverse felt the same.
Ding-dong…
The doorbell rang.
Barry got up and opened the door, finding a disheveled couple standing outside.
"Can I help you?"
It was, of course, the Warrens. But Barry, who had always believed in science until recently, had never paid much attention to paranormal experts.
"This is the place," Lorraine nodded confidently. "I sense very strong spiritual energy here."
With her confirmation, Ed asked, "Has something strange happened in your home?"
"Yes," Barry answered honestly. "There are already two exorcists handling it."
Exorcists?
The Warrens exchanged a glance, instantly suspicious.
Church-approved exorcists were extremely rare, and they knew every single one with actual field experience. They'd shared insights and notes with them all.
Moreover, without clearance from the Church, there was no known exorcist activity in Los Angeles.
"We're exorcists as well. May we meet these two?"
Ed was certain these so-called exorcists were frauds.
There was never a shortage of fools pretending to be demon-busters—until they encountered a real haunting and paid with their lives.
"Of course, come in."
Barry was more than happy to welcome them. The more exorcists, the sooner his house could return to normal. Why would he turn them away?
Once inside—
The Warrens froze.
In Ed's eyes, Allen was slouched on the couch with his legs floating in the air—completely indecent.
Lorraine, however, noticed his legs were resting on the laps of Vivian and Violet, who were giving him a massage.
Numerous spirits were humbly waiting nearby.
Uncle Ban and Tate, in particular, were openly glaring daggers, their murderous intent written all over their faces.
"The Demon-Busting Duo, the Warrens."
Allen made no move to greet them. He lazily said, "Nice to finally meet you. Heard so much."
"You know who we are?" Ed looked somewhat pleased.
"No… I've just seen The Conjuring movies."
Naturally, Allen didn't admit he'd watched a pirated version in the adult section.
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