Exorcism in Los Angeles? Just talk it out!

Chapter 10, Bus No. 13: Death

The bus came to a stop in the rain. Li Ang shook off the water and immediately climbed on. The soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin.

He doesn't know what's going on in Los Angeles. Even if he did, it wouldn't matter.

The skill passed down in the Li family is exorcism, not murder.

Among righteous exorcists, almost no one tames evil spirits—they're impossible to tame. There's no direct evidence that they possess self-awareness, but one thing is certain: even if you raise them for a hundred years, they won't develop feelings for you. They might just turn on you and kill you one day if they're in a bad mood.

When ordinary people face financial tycoons, they either have to admit defeat or accept their fate. The last option is to grab a weapon and shoot, dragging the other party down with them.

drop--

The old bus clicked its doors shut, swayed slightly, and slowly started moving again. There was hardly any smell of sweat or decay inside; the air was almost excessively clean, as if no one had ridden in a long time. The seats were neatly arranged and in good condition.

But that cleanliness isn't tidiness; it's more like a blank space that's been stripped away and emptied out.

Li Ang had intended to say, "I'll get off at Chinatown," but the words were barely on his lips—

A sudden chill ran down my spine.

The chill wasn't the kind you get from being caught in the rain; it was a chill that seeped from the depths of your soul, the kind of alertness you feel when your body senses danger before your mind does. He stopped in his tracks.

Something's not right, something's really not right.

At this moment, Li Ang suddenly realized that something was wrong.

He slowly scanned the inside of the car.

First row. A clown.

It sat upright, clutching a red balloon in its hand, which swayed slightly in the dim carriage light. A smile graced its face, a wide grin revealing two rows of teeth—a perfectly executed, full, and—frozen-in-time smile.

From the moment Li Ang got into the car until now, his smile has remained unchanged.

Did he blink? No. Did his lips twitch? No. There wasn't even a rise or fall in his breath; his chest was flat and stiff, as if that smile had been nailed to his face by something.

It's common knowledge that human muscles can't maintain the same arc for more than thirty seconds; facial nerves get tired, and smiles relax. But this smile didn't. It was as if it were welded shut, as if it were glued on, as if this was the only expression left on the face, and all other expressions had disappeared.

So Li Ang could tell at a glance that it wasn't human...

Second row. A man in a suit.

A three-piece suit, a pocket watch chain, a top hat, a cane, and gold-rimmed glasses—the attire of a 19th-century English gentleman, utterly out of place on this dilapidated bus. His face was white, as if painted, not pale, but a bloodless, almost plaster-like white.

What's even stranger is that there are no holes in that white face.

It has no eyes. It has no mouth, and although it has a nose, it has no nostrils—a veritable formless emperor.

Therefore, this is not a person either.

Third row. One patient.

The oversized hospital gown, with white bandages wrapped from head to toe, made him look like a severely burned patient.

The bandages were wrapped tightly, outlining the body's contours, but no skin was visible; even the fingertips were covered. Most bizarrely, the bandages reached all the way down to the eyebrows, revealing nothing.

But Li Ang knew that there was a pair of eyes watching him from behind the bandages.

He could feel that gaze. Not the kind that brushes against skin, but the kind that's like a nail driven into wood—a gaze filled with malice, coldness, and greed.

It was staring at him, and it hadn't looked away from the moment he got on the bus.

Still not human.

Fourth row. An old man.

Wearing sunglasses and a black priest's robe, dressed like a priest, he leaned against the window late at night, his head tilted to one side, seemingly dozing. He was the most human-like of the four. His physique, clothing, and posture were all perfectly normal. But it was precisely because he was so normal that Li Ang's heart sank.

The more human-like the "people" on this vehicle are, the more dangerous they are.

Including Li Ang, there were five people in the car.

Of course, it's also possible that there's only one real person.

……

The car drove in the rain, and the fog outside the window grew thicker and thicker.

The fog was grayish-white and viscous, like diluted lime water, enveloping the outside world layer by layer. Streetlights became blurry halos, pedestrians became swaying shadows, everything lost its boundaries, and everything became indistinct.

Li Ang sat in his seat, his back pressed against the cold car window, feeling a chill pressing down on him from all directions.

That chill wasn't from temperature, it was from hunger.

It was a primal, dark hunger from the abyss. It didn't want to eat his food; it wanted to devour him whole, from bone to flesh, leaving not even a trace.

Looking around, Li Ang saw several passengers staring at him greedily, making every pore of his skin scream and every inch of his skin warn him.

The clown moved first.

It stood up, the red balloon in its hand floating below the ceiling, the string hanging down, clutched in its palm. Its welded-on smile remained unchanged, but its feet moved—not walking, but shuffling, as if there were invisible wheels beneath its feet, silently gliding towards Li Ang.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

The lights in the carriage flickered for a moment.

The clown stopped.

The man in the suit tapped his cane on the ground.

It was very soft. But in the quiet carriage, the sound was like a knife, cutting a slit in the air.

The clown and the man in the suit exchanged a glance—one with his pupil-less eyes, the other with his unseen features—and then two chilling auras collided in the carriage, like two snakes clashing in the shadows, like two clouds of mist fighting for territory, neither willing to give way.

Li Ang sensed it. It wasn't a confrontation; it was communication in a way he couldn't understand—determining his allegiance through something outside the established rules.

"Whether it's evil spirits or urban legends, they all have their own set of rules."

No, this is very wrong...

"Even spirits have rules."

Li Ang's mind raced. He glanced at the driver—leaning back in the driver's seat, hands clasped on the steering wheel, head tilted to one side, his posture stiff as a corpse. The steering wheel was under his hands, yet the car kept moving—no gears were engaged, no accelerator was pressed, no operation was performed, but it just kept moving forward.

He was now certain that he had stumbled upon... an urban legend, a death platform, bus number 13.

On the dark web of exorcists, the "Death Bus No. 13" is consistently ranked in the top 5 among the evil spirits categorized as haunted spirits, which are also known as urban legends.

Among the many haunted spirits, the No. 13 Death Bus stands out because of its unique nature.

It neither attacks nor harms humans, nor does it lure people into its vehicle; it is a harmless urban legend.

But anyone who thinks it's safe is doomed. Basically, no exorcist who boarded the No. 13 Death Bus has ever survived, and to this day, no one has been able to figure out its rules.

Some speculate that it might be a ferryman between the human world and hell, guiding evil spirits to another world, but this claim has no basis.

But because it doesn't pose any particular danger and is generally safe as long as you don't get on the vehicle, the reward for its investigation is—$100 million.

"So, do I have to pay the fare first?" Li Ang took out two yuan from his pocket and put it into the coin box.

The coin dropped in with a crisp, clear "ding."

But the chilling feeling remained.

Not a single bit less.

Li Ang frowned. Something was wrong. Giving money should have worked; spirits usually followed the rules—they should do what they were paid for. But the evil spirit in the car hadn't taken away its desire to devour him, which didn't make sense.

He looked at the clown and the man in the suit. They had been facing off just moments before, but now it seemed they had struck some kind of deal. Both faces turned to him simultaneously, one with a welded-on smile, the other with features that were invisible.

He didn't speak. But that look in his eyes—

Li Ang suddenly realized something.

and many more.

This vehicle carries evil spirits. It's not an ordinary bus; it's the spirit itself.

"Could it be because I'm a living person?" Li Ang stroked his chin, suddenly realizing the key point.

If the Death Bus No. 13 is a bus that specifically carries evil spirits, then it seems normal for it to show a hunger that wants to devour a living person who boards it, because it is also a kind of evil spirit...

It was precisely because he was alive that the passengers on the bus developed a desire to kill him.

Furthermore, since the Death Bus itself is haunted, these evil spirits can kill people simply by following the rules of the bus while inside its body.

They don't have to follow the rules outside, like the "Black-Eyed Child" and the "Smiling Person," which require specific conditions to be met before they can attack living people.

With that in mind, Li Ang decided to give it a try...

The rules have changed.

Li Ang took a deep breath and, facing the clown and the man in the suit who were slowly approaching, made a decision that even he himself found crazy.

He grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, as the clown and the man in the suit reached out their hands.

"We're on the same side, brother."

Entry: To confuse the public and launch an attack—

An indescribable force of rules emanated from Li Ang's body, like a silent depth charge, engulfing the entire bus. That power was like some kind of black liquid from the abyss, seeping into every corner and every pore through the cracks in the air.

The clown's outstretched hand stopped. His fingertips were less than three centimeters from Leon's shoulder.

The man in the suit turned his face away from the unseen features at an odd angle, like a bewildered bird.

The confusion in the eyes of the two evil spirits was not feigned—it was genuine, haunting, and mechanical confusion.

They don't understand because their world only has "living people" and "dead people," there is no third category. But Li Ang is turning himself into the third category—from a living person into an evil spirit, making them think he is one of them.

Li Ang's face turned pale.

His mental energy surged out like a faucet turned on. His vision began to blur, his ears started to ring, and he swayed precariously, like a withered tree whose sap had been drained.

Mental energy consumption -1

Mental energy consumption -2

Mental energy consumption -3

three seconds.

two seconds.

One second—

He held on.

But it has almost reached its limit.

【Ding! 】

[Successfully deceived the evil spirit x5]

[Experience points +100]

[Confuse the Mind] Proficiency +100