Why is his holy light red?

Chapter 85 Asking My Father for Help

Is the cannibalistic nightmare dead?

Mercury believed Sister Mary wouldn't lie to him, but the news was indeed unexpected.

In other words, is the "cannibalistic nightmare" that's throwing the city of Auriga into chaos just a poor imitator? Or has it coincidentally awakened similar superpowers?

"So, you found the real culprit yourselves back then?" Mercury stared intently at the screen, wanting to know more details.

Sister Maria's tone became more angry: "Our family would never let someone else go to the electric chair for nothing. We did dig out that bastard who deserves to go to hell. We originally planned to drag him to court alive to clear Uncle Marco's name, but unfortunately—that bastard crashed into a speeding car while we were trying to escape."

"A monster that can tear people apart alive in dreams, just got hit by a car and died like that?" Mercury frowned slightly, a hint of doubt in his mind.

"That bastard's powers only work in dreams," Sister Maria's voice turned contemptuous. "In reality, he's nothing but a skinny, weak, freakish man who's barely six feet tall."

Mercury pressed on: "Then how did you determine that he is the real killer?"

"Because when we found his house, it was filled with entrails and pieces of flesh preserved in formaldehyde—all spoils he had cut from his victims." The nun gritted her teeth, the words seemingly squeezed out from between them. "And there was his handwritten murder diary. Everything in it was a recollection of the crimes; the evidence was irrefutable, without a shred of doubt."

Upon hearing this, Mercury couldn't help but laugh.

Psychopathic serial killers seem to have this habit, just like in TV dramas, they always like to take something from the dead and display it at home as a badge of honor, for fear that the police will not have enough solid evidence to convict them.

"Since you have irrefutable evidence, why didn't you overturn the case back then?"

Sister Mary immediately let out a few cold laughs.

"Ha, we tried that already! The Elm Street Police Station kicked us out, and they even secretly destroyed the evidence we provided! Admit to arresting the wrong person? That would mean the entire precinct, from top to bottom, would be fired. They would never admit it. We also tried contacting the news media, but in those days, no white newspaper cared about the life or death of a black man!"

The old nun's cheek muscles twitched violently, quickly turning into a mocking expression: "But thank God. That bastard died a horrible death. He was too short; when he was dragged under the car, he was used as a speed bump. His two thighs were crushed on the asphalt, and he howled like a stray dog ​​in the street for almost half an hour before he breathed his last."

Mercury's lips twitched.

God for good, my foot! If the Creator that Sister Mary believed in had truly shown mercy, Marco would never have sat in that electric chair in the first place.

Even if there truly is a creator, it must be a cruel being; otherwise, why would life on this earth kill each other to survive?

However, these reflections are irrelevant. If the real culprit died thirty years ago, then the trail of this copycat has once again gone cold.

Mercury composed himself and asked a crucial question: "Sister, tell me, how did that monster enter someone's dream back then? There must have been some triggering condition, right?"

Once the underlying logic of superpowers is understood, perhaps we can follow the clues and catch this copycat.

On the other side of the screen, Sister Maria fell silent, seemingly extremely resistant to touching that painful memory.

After a pause of more than ten seconds, she spoke heavily: "It's fear. The mechanism of that psychopathic killer relies on the fear of the living. He must first constantly frighten his target in reality in various ways, bringing that emotion to a certain critical point, before he can completely invade the dream and kill the person."

"I still keep that bastard's mask and murder diary in the church's basement. You want to see the details? I can give them to you. But I'm warning you, kid..."

Her voice suddenly rose several octaves as she loudly warned, "Once you see what's inside, if you feel even the slightest fear, you're very likely to be targeted! Who knows what kind of inheritance this new nightmare demon has from that bastard thirty years ago! Have you thought it through?!"

"Leave it to me." Mercury said without pausing. "I'll have someone retrieve these things from the church. By the way, if we can find the cannibalistic succubus, I'll try to overturn your case. I just slapped the left cheek of those federal garbage bureaucrats until it was swollen; it's time to slap their right cheek too."

Fear is nothing. All fear stems from insufficient firepower. Since his superpowers became so strong that he could smash reinforced concrete with a single punch, Mercury has rarely felt fear.

Last time, he was afflicted with psychological fear, and as a result, Mercury's greatest fear was that his own father would force him to make sacrifices and contributions.

Mercury wasn't afraid of any ogres or nightmares; he was only afraid that he wouldn't be able to sense them and thus wouldn't be able to lure the monster out.

After hanging up the phone, Mercury faced another crucial problem—who would go to the church to retrieve the items?

Calling a random courier is definitely not an option; what if the delivery guy glances at it out of curiosity on the way and it could be fatal? As for having the association's field staff pick it up—Mercury glanced at the security camera in the corner and started to have doubts.

Is the branch president Richard's decision to lock them up here truly for epidemic prevention and quarantine, or is he just buying time for Eternal Life Technology? The Hero Association of Pomegranate City has countless connections with those big corporations; even this building was built with donations from them.

He would never believe it if you told him that there were no informants from Yong Sheng Technology within the association.

Therefore, if possible, try to avoid associations.

But who should we turn to?

Mercury turned to Nora: "Are there any reliable people among your fans?"

Nora decisively shook her head in refusal: "There are reliable ones, but this stuff is too weird. I don't want my fan to take that risk. What if he couldn't resist his curiosity and got infected right away? Wouldn't I just lose a loyal fan for nothing?"

Mercury then looked at Rex: "Young Master, do you have one of those skilled, tight-lipped butlers like those in TV dramas?"

Rex chuckled in exasperation, saying irritably, "What era are we living in! My family isn't some old British noble family, where are we going to find someone like that for you?"

"Sigh, when it comes to crucial moments, you're all completely unreliable," Mercury sighed helplessly.

Rex wasn't happy with that and immediately retorted, "You talk like you have all sorts of connections. Haven't you been in the Roots District for so many years? Find one of your trusted buddies to make the trip! Don't just talk about us."

"The Root Zone—Trustworthy Friends—" Mercury suddenly stammered, his expression somewhat embarrassed.

To be honest, he doesn't really have any friends like that.

His only thought while living in that muddy swamp was how to save money to move out; he had no interest in making friends he could entrust his life to. Right now, the only people he could truly trust were Black Egg and Flora. But those two had absolutely no ability to protect themselves; sending them across most of the city carrying such dangerous items was practically sending lambs to the slaughter.

Mercury pondered for a long time, and finally could only sigh: "Forget it, it's better to let my dad get this thing."

"Your dad?" Rex's eyes widened in shock. "Didn't you say your dad was just an ordinary person? This thing can kill people!"

"Uh—it's okay. He's been a reporter for so many years, he's seen all sorts of people, and he's handled more supernatural cases than the average person. He's definitely experienced in dealing with these kinds of troubles. It's just picking up a package, it shouldn't cause any problems."

Mercury gave a perfunctory reply, but inwardly he was thinking: If that "cannibalistic dream demon" really went blind and went to provoke his old man—then this case could probably be declared solved today.

Fearing that things might go wrong if they dragged it out, Mercury didn't give Rex a chance to continue questioning him and directly dialed his own father's number.

In the quiet room, a monotonous "beep-beep" sound rang out.

On the other side of the city, on the top floor of the headquarters building of Yong Sheng Technology.

Under the soft lighting, the Holy Angel sat at a large conference table, surrounded by a dense crowd of Yong Sheng Technology employees in suits.

Since the Hero Association officially issued the investigation order, he has directly led the task force to forcibly "station" here.

He doesn't check the ledgers, nor does he understand code. His only role here is to act as a human deterrent to prevent the conglomerate from using mind control or other supernatural abilities to turn the ordinary members of the investigation team into idiots or pieces of flesh when they are desperate.

-

The real auditing and data cracking relied entirely on the group of sweating investigators next door.

Eternal Life Technology's countermeasures against such unauthorized visits are both disgusting and impeccable.

Instead of a direct confrontation, they dispatched their most luxurious "reception team." Security supervisor, legal elites, public relations director—the smiles on their faces were as precise as if measured with a ruler.

Under the guise of "being ready to obey orders and fully cooperating with the investigation," they surrounded the Holy Angel. Even when he got up to go to the restroom, two rows of thugs in suits stood respectfully outside the door, ready to hand him towels at any moment.

The Holy Angel coldly observed this group of highly skilled workers manipulated by capital. This round-the-clock close surveillance was utterly meaningless; it was purely a disgusting psychological war of attrition.

The real contest takes place in unseen places.

The investigation team's data experts did find evidence that a large amount of data had been erased, but the recovery work was bogged down in a quagmire.

A formidable superhuman is hiding within the internal network of Immortal Technology. If Robert wants to recover the deleted data, he must first eliminate this troublesome enemy.

The disappearance of physical evidence is also a key focus of the investigation, but Yong Sheng Technology has a large number of factories and laboratories, as well as many hidden secret areas, and it would take a lot of time to investigate them all.

However, in this confrontation, Yong Sheng Technology has fallen into a completely disadvantageous position.

Because as long as the investigation continues, they will eventually find clues to break the deadlock; for now, they can only keep stalling for time.

Just as the stalemate continued, the Holy Angel suddenly felt a very faint vibration coming from the pocket close to the inside of her chest.

His movements paused almost imperceptibly.

The next second, a blinding golden holy light erupted from his body without warning! This violent light instantly materialized, condensing into a huge golden semi-transparent cocoon, completely sealing him inside and blocking all external sight and detection.

The surrounding executives of Yong Sheng Technology were blinded by the bright light and immediately covered their eyes, creating chaos.

The security supervisor immediately pressed his earpiece to report, while the legal department head, steeling himself, approached the cocoon of light, forcefully pounding on the blinding glow, and feigning concern as he shouted, "Your Excellency, Holy Angel! What's happening?! Please immediately retract your powers! Your actions have seriously threatened the safety of our employees! Your Excellency?!"

However, no matter how desperate the outside world was, the inside of the cocoon remained deathly silent.

In this isolated, absolute realm, the divinely revered superhero suddenly contorted like ripples in water. A few seconds later, the armor detached, revealing a middle-aged man in a cheap, worn shirt, with slightly disheveled hair and a stubble beard—Al Anderson, an ordinary reporter from the Tree Roots district.

What's even more amazing is that the scene inside the cocoon also changes. The blinding golden light and the luxurious office of the immortal technology all disappear. Like a holographic projection, it perfectly simulates the street corner of the tree root area. Even the rusty texture of the trash cans not far away and the engine roar of the broken pickup truck driving by on the road are reproduced perfectly.

After confirming that there were no flaws in the "on-site disguise," Al cleared his throat and answered the video call.

The elderly father asked with a broad smile, "What's up, son? What can I do for you?"