World Occult Usage Guide

Chapter 307 War in War
December 11, 2038, Mbanbuka.

The continuous torrential rain turned the city into a wet, muddy painting.

There is no distinction between spring, summer, autumn and winter at the equator. The humidity of the rainy season lowers the temperature, and the sultry wind is mixed with a hint of cold.

Misuru had just received a report from the scouts.

This group of seventy soldiers crossed the Kuba River into the Bantu rainforest, and near Ingende and Bikoro, they advanced silently through waist-high elephant grass.

On the other side of the plain, the towering Itumbuwe Mountains surround the highland grasslands, making it an excellent place to set up camp.

Unless requested by the president, most wars are usually launched during the dry season when roads are in good condition. During the rainy season, the roads are wet, visibility is poor, and the speed of marching is a concern.

Many of the scouts were from tribes and knew better than the regular troops how to hunt during the rainy season. After discovering traces of the enemy's advance, the scouts hid in a banana grove near a small village.

While they were resting, a woman who had gone to work in the cassava field stumbled into the scouts' makeshift camp and screamed in terror when she saw the soldiers armed to the teeth with AK assault rifles and rocket launchers.

The soldiers initially intended to kill her, but in the end they couldn't bring themselves to do it and let her go.

The woman ran to a nearby military base to warn Kinsasha's army. The president's personal guards arrived, surrounded the World Tree's scouts, shot and killed twenty, captured seven, and the rest scattered like birds and beasts. Five of them ran back to Misuru.

The ambush quickly escalated into an open conflict, with captured soldiers appearing on television and online, as Tshisekedi showed them to audiences across the country.

The soldiers, dressed in military uniforms and looking haggard, were placed under the spotlight, and the camera flashes illuminated their sunken eyes.

"This is the enemy."

The president announced to the crowd.

Meanwhile, this morning, Le Potentiel, Kinsasa’s largest newspaper by subscription, reported the incident with the headline “Outsider Disruptor”.

"A tree trunk won't turn into a crocodile just because it's been in water for a few days. Similarly, outsiders will always be outsiders. Even if they're speaking sweet words now, they'll never be able to change their treachery, cunning, and habitual lying in the future."

The war intensified, and more and more Kinsasha's troops entered the villages near Mbanbuka, stockpiling weapons in preparation for the next attack.

Squads of soldiers, carrying metal crates of ammunition on their heads, climbed up the hillside. Farmers and merchants hid in the jungle beside the mountain paths. Most of the local residents had no suspicions and welcomed Kinsasha's army as if they were saviors.

At the local level, warlords and militants seized the opportunity to begin killing each other, and many Bantu areas were engulfed in long-standing feuds between different ethnic groups over power, land, and identity.

Thousands of people have died in just a few days of conflict.

After listening to the report, everyone looked at the man behind the desk, whose demeanor resembled that of an ancient Egyptian statue.

“Lin, President Tshisekedi is coming on strong, and the residents of Mbanbuka don’t support us either,” Misuru stated the facts.

“Lord Ancestral Spirit, if I had to choose, perhaps I would take a different approach. We are no match for the President.” Maye pursed her lips.

"Isn't it strange? The week after we occupied the Lambridge Grand Hotel, Tshisekedi didn't declare war on us directly. Why did he suddenly change his attitude halfway through?" Mezzo said, taking advantage of the chaos.

"If we want to gain a voice in Bantu, we will have to fight him sooner or later. The most important thing right now is to win."

The speaker looked very young, but his eyes held a maturity beyond his years.

"It's okay that some people are not satisfied with my strategic plan. We can brainstorm and make modifications to the overall framework. I will keep some unavoidable individual actions confidential, but otherwise, I respect my colleagues' ideas."

These words sounded like Lin An's words, yet they didn't sound like Lin An's words at all. Misuru and Meyer lowered their heads and remained silent.

In silence, Mezzo stood up.

“A batch of wine arrived at the market this morning, and I poured some for everyone to try.”

She carried the plate to the desk and placed the silver wine glass in front of "Lin An." The wine emitted a strong aroma of leaves and alcohol, making one drowsy.

This liquor is called "Kotiko" in the local dialect. Locals cut off the crown of a palm tree and collect some sap from the trunk. The sugar in the sap will gradually ferment into alcohol over time.

“Thank you, but I don’t like palm wine.” Lin An politely declined, “It’s very strong, and it’s hard to stay sober after drinking it. Let’s get back to the topic of developing strategic plans, everyone.”

"..."

Misuru took a breath, lowered her head again, and looked at the green data in front of her.

"That thing is a fake."

“You finally figured it out,” Lin An replied.

"Because you can't tell at a glance that Coca-Cola is made from palm trees."

"Uh."

"You can't even tell the difference between cassava and yam."

Lin An's lips twitched, and he went straight to the point: "I didn't contact you before for three reasons: first, I was afraid of alerting you; second, my time was precious; and third, I didn't have enough information. Telling you would only have added two more people who were helpless."

“You can brainstorm,” Misuru joked.

"Goodbye, I'm going to contact Maye."

“I’m glad to help you, Lin. I’ve changed a lot in the past month,” Misuru added. “Since you replied to my message first, it means you think my arcane magic will be more useful than Meyer’s in the upcoming battle.”

He was right.

“That’s a hunter’s intuition,” Misuru said confidently.

“I need you to do something,” Lin An explained briefly. “Research shows that the ‘Witch’s’ fingers will activate the Hand of Fatima’s tactile omniscience, not its visual one.” “You still can’t kill the ‘Prophet’?”

"According to the original plan, the round trip to Kinsasha to obtain the third finger will take too long, and the situation on your side is probably not optimistic."

Misuru glanced at the shapeshifting wizard who was talking eloquently, and before he knew it, there were many unfamiliar faces around him.

Despite their lower ratings, they were all well-versed in manipulating the energy of "Comers".

At first, he thought these people were free mystics from Mbanbuka, but after Lin An pointed it out, he guessed that these people were probably not members of the Four Living Gods.

Like a cuckoo taking over a cuckoo's nest, the World Tree's course of action is no longer up to Misuru and others.

“I realized it too late.” He said with some annoyance, “The imposter was very convincing. Later, even though I felt that ‘you’ were acting a little strange, I didn’t think about it being a time misalignment.”

“It’s alright, I was completely baffled when I first encountered the ‘God of Truth’,” Lin An continued. “Your mission is related to a free mystic. Remember the holy blacksmith [Finz] that we captured in Mbanbuka a few weeks ago? Is he still alive?”

“Full of energy, the imposter ordered him to forge some special cold weapons.”

“Have him make a special mask, with a pattern—” Lin An paused for a moment, and a dot matrix pattern suddenly appeared in Misuru’s eyes, “as shown in the picture.”

He silently memorized the pattern.

After all this time, the World Tree system has been upgraded again.

"2.3?"

“Version 2.31,” Lin An said. “Then try using Enkitas to control the ghost, communicate with the energy of the underworld, cover it, and connect with it.”

"So you mean I should become the medium between the living and the dead, making it easier for you to access the 'Prophet'? Is that even possible? Besides, I haven't mastered any similar mystical arts yet; I'll have to ask Dinganga." Misuru frowned. "And then what?"

"Based on my experience observing people possessed by the 'prophet,' when they die, the 'prophet's' soul temporarily leaves to seek out the next possessor."

“I’ll seize this opportunity and help you kill him in one fell swoop.” Misuru suddenly relaxed, his youthful recklessness and decisiveness on full display. “I’ll start as soon as the imposter finishes his speech!”

"Don't rush, Misuru. Finish your preliminary work first and follow my instructions," Lin An quickly advised. "'The Prophet' is at the source level. Confronting him could cost you your life."

“Without the sense of crisis of risking my life, I have no motivation to use my full strength.” This boy, who dared to kill an adult hippopotamus single-handedly, never cared about his life. “Anyway, Tsycee was practically holding a knife to our throats.”

"How to say?"

“He seemed to have some reservations before, neither inciting hatred among the people nor spreading the news of the declaration of war in a high-profile manner,” Misuru said astutely. “But since a few days ago, he has been acting like a madman, sparing no expense.”

"What do you think?" Lin An asked in return.

"In the past, Tshisekedi's actions were merely a president's crackdown on regional powers, but now it is a struggle of mysterious figures wrapped in the guise of war."

“This shows that he not only discovered the 'prophet's' trail, but also became impatient due to certain changes.” Lin An pondered for a while, “Continue, Misuru.”

Encouraged, Misuru happily wrote a long post, which basically said: no matter what the cost, Lin An should reunite with his companions from the World Tree as soon as possible to face the impending all-out war together.

“Sometimes, you have to wait and be patient, but sometimes you have to be quick,” Misuru concluded. “I try to make the mask within two days.”

Retracting the green data, Lin An turned to the [Hand of Fatima] that was raising its middle finger.

On its side, shimmering and floating yellow orbs of light, ancient and strange Bantu language murmured the legends and miracles of the "conception" space of the "shaman," and the knowledge of the great sages lingered in Lin An's ears.

Having gained experience in refining the Prophet's Finger, his research accelerated considerably this time. Four days after obtaining the Wizard's Finger, he prepared for divination.

Taking a deep breath, Lin An had a thought.

"System, use the Tarot card divination technique from 'The Complete Book of Magic V: Halfway to Divinity - Wanderers Ask Heaven and Earth'."

Meanwhile, outside the presidential palace, in front of the parliament building, Tshisekedi, who was speaking eloquently to a group of reporters, suddenly narrowed his eyes, causing the group of people below who had raised microphones to look at each other in bewilderment.

"The prophet has been taken away..."

"prophet?"

The president was surrounded by reporters in the front row, and a barrage of questions came at him.

Tshisekedi was mentioned only briefly.

"Lacono is currently embroiled in a civil war, yet the World Tree is being established at this time. Is it merely a coincidence? Furthermore, there is a terrorist group called the Ranger recruiting young people. Undoubtedly, he intends to emulate the Patriot Front's invasion."

"Mr. President, what is your basis?"

“This man is undoubtedly a spy sent by a neighboring country. I have evidence of his actions and will soon present it to the public!”

Delivering an exciting, nonsensical speech, the president's fingers were twisting erratically behind his back.

The woman walked through the streets of Mbanbuka, her eyes burning with hatred as she looked at the snow-white buildings standing on the hillside.

"You persistent ghost! You made me lose my membership in [Black City]; you stole my spoils; you prevented me from enjoying the life a Source-level member should have... Heh, I don't want to live a life of ignominy with you!"

"Hey, are you lost?" A few teenagers passing by asked with concern.

The woman took out a bulging stack of red envelopes, gently patted them on the boy's face, and enjoyed the pure gaze of his eyes, which suddenly turned into one of adoration and greed.

“Take me to the Grand Lancelot Hotel. Here’s your payment.”

(End of this chapter)