Exorcist's Self-Cultivation

Chapter 61 061, Contagious?

In the suite, the knocking continued.

Thud, thud, thud...

Nerella's expression turned incredibly strange as she peered through the peephole and saw nothing but emptiness.

In the two opposite suites lived Bishop Ruth and the driver, Corelle.

Neither of these two were the type to enjoy pranks, so it was improbable that they would engage in such a boring act.

Of course, even if they used to have a penchant for jokes, it's likely that the habit had been eradicated since joining the Veda Sect.

"Huff..."

With a resigned sigh, Nerella removed the safety latch and grasped the door handle.

"Whoever you are, you've succeeded in angering me," she said.

With these words, she turned the knob and flung the door open.

Outside, there was no one.

In the hallway, the lights were still on.

The sounds of the knocking ceased abruptly.

"What is going on?"

Clad in a bathrobe, Nerella poked her head out to survey the hotel corridor, which was luxuriously decorated and spacious, with a lengthy hallway. She glanced quickly from one end to the other and saw the elevator banks at both ends.

"No one was knocking?"

There wasn't any cover to hide behind, and with such a long corridor, though someone could have potentially run to the end to hide,

But...

What would be the point of knocking, just for a joke?

That would be too malicious.

"Whoever you are, don't let me catch you, or I guarantee you'll die a terrible death," Nerella said sternly, then turned and went back into her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Then, she returned to the bed and took a look at herself in the mirror that sat on the bedside table.

In the mirror,

Her eyes were more bloodshot than ever, as if she had been staring wide, without blinking.

Strangely though, she noticed that her brown irises no longer seemed as deep as before.

It was as if she had removed colored contacts, losing a layer of sheen.

"Is this good news? Maybe it's not a fungal infection, and it could just be from a lack of rest lately," she mused.

Nerella, who was initially upset by the "prank," felt somewhat relieved at the change in her eyes.

She tried to resist, but her typically strong body, even stronger than that of an adult man due to regular training, was useless. Not only did she not break free, but the bedsheet wrapped even tighter around her.

Then.

In the darkness, the crisp sound of breaking bones echoed...

And then there was a series of continuous, tight sounds, as Nerella, covered in the bedsheet, floated in the air, twisting like a wrung towel, her head and feet spinning, hiss...

Blood was instantly squeezed out, soaking the bedsheet and dripping onto the bed.

Following that was a thud... the sound of something heavy falling onto the bed.

Outside the door...

In the suite of the driver who had made eye contact with Nerella, Corelle's room.

She'd just gone to bed at that moment, still semi-conscious between sleep and wakefulness.

Suddenly, she frowned, faintly hearing a very regular and mechanically precise knocking at the door.

...

May 22nd, 7:09 AM.

It was a rainy day in North Brook District.

Du Wei sat by the window, a weary expression on his face as he watched the scene outside. The dense thunder and the incessant drip-drop of raindrops against the window were extremely irritating.

That ominous bus only appeared on rainy days and could ignore space; as long as it was raining in a city, it might appear there.

"I hate rainy days."

Du Wei let out a sigh of relief and shook his head.

The nightmare had lasted too long, and his mind and body were so tense that there was hardly any room for relaxation upon waking, the whole bedsheet soaked through.

The sense of crisis brought by the nuns was almost suffocating him, and he could only strive to regulate his own condition, constantly maintaining the good qualities a psychotherapist should have.

That is—calmness, sanity, and an observer's perspective on the unfolding events.

He walked out of the bedroom.

Into the bathroom.

Du Wei turned on the faucet and quietly watched the bottom of the washbasin.

The fine flow of water quickly rose.

He saw no trace of that familiar, wrinkled woman's face.

Du Wei washed his face, and when he looked up again, the reflection in the mirror had returned to his usual appearance: a pale, stern face with well-defined features, exceedingly charismatic.

Apart from the eyes being too calm, giving an oddly penetrating sensation, his appeal to any woman was far greater than that of an ordinary man.

"Wait a minute, I think I smell blood... "