When the fortune teller woke up, he was wet.

Not only was his lower body wet, but his neck was soaked. To be precise, he was in a river channel in Puston City, with ropes tied to him, leaving only one head exposed on the river surface. This place was chosen by Donald for easy handling.

"woke up?"

Donald sat on the stone steps on the edge of the shore. This was where the street lights could not be illuminated. It was pitch black. Finger squatted beside him, and his emerald green eyes of the same color as Donald were lit with a glimmer of light.

"Don't kill me, I'll give you whatever you want, please don't kill me."

Trying in the water, the temperature was not low in July at night, but the fortune teller still felt cold all over and felt panicked. He didn't want to die yet!

"I have a few questions, answer them?"

Donald held a pistol in his left hand and knocked the fortune teller's forehead a few times, and held a small stone in his right hand and threw it on the river surface beside him. Some water splashed, and the fortune teller shook again and again.

"You ask, I will definitely answer."

“Honest?”

"Honest! As long as you don't kill me, be honest!"

It was almost cold, so naturally I knew everything and said everything. The fortune teller asked himself that there was no secret that had lived for more than 20 years and was more important than his own life.

"How do you know about the Dark Book?"

This is what Donald wants to know the most. No matter how you look at this fortune teller, he doesn't look like a capable person. If those so-called fortune tellers who can foresee the future can get into this situation that they can't help themselves?

"I know from others... I tell you the truth. Actually, I don't know what the Book of Dark means. I just found a notebook when I was moving and sorting out things for a relative two months ago. It said that I wanted to find a man named Donald Grant and asked him to go to the first floor of the Puston Municipal Library, Line 18, and under the stone brick in column 8, to get a book called Book of Dark. No one except him can touch it..."

Two months ago, the fortune teller was already an outside member of the Shia Church. At that time, in order to gain the attention of the organization, he was willing to do anything. This news might be of some value to him, so he immediately handed over it. Who would have thought that on the night he handed over the information, the leader in the organization, who was rarely seen in the organization, found him specifically and asked him how he learned the news.

Young people always like to show off and boast. Seeing that they valued this news so much, he thought about whether he could take advantage of this opportunity to gain more benefits. When his head got hot, he opened his mouth and said that he was a fortune teller. This news was made by him accidentally.

"Stop! Why do you say that you are a fortune teller, you can foresee a certain situation, or a prophet or a prophet, why do you think of this profession?"

The decisions made by people under the consciousness of the situation are often caused by deep incentives. The so-called casual statement is actually based on some degree of thinking and facts.

"because......"

"Um?"

Noting that the man in front of him was hesitant, Donald stretched out his foot and stepped on his head, slowly pressing down, pressing him into the river and allowing him to struggle.

"Woo~Gurl~Gurl~"

A series of bubbles emerged from the river. Donald looked at the man struggling desperately under the river, but a sense of pleasure came out in his heart, as if he should have been like this... It was just a matter of his thoughts to crush this ant.

Donald raised his chin, but his pupils in his eyes were facing down. He looked down at the man, contrary to his will, and was seeking death!

"Get back!"

This was the second time Donald said this. The moment he finished speaking, the dark thoughts retreated like a tide, retracting his feet and allowing him to float back to the surface.

From the past, it could only appear when you lost your mind, to now, you can only have a little evil thought to affect your actions and judgments.

No, it's not that simple.

Donald realized that he had no special emotions in his heart when he killed those people and used the bone spirit plate to suck their souls, only peace.

It is precisely this indifference that is the most terrifying issue for him. While the spiritual world in his mind is eroded by demons, his thoughts are also being subtly changed.

"Speak quickly!"

In a irritable mood, Donald's tone became colder.

"The elder of my relative's family is a fortune teller. I died a few years ago because of an accident, so I said that, don't kill me!"

"Accident, a few years ago...whether was that note?"

It's still the same question, why did the news from the Dark Book let anyone other than the Grants know, and he was designated.

"In my box, I carry it with me."

The experience of almost drowning left the fake fortune teller no longer able to resist. Donald took the box that had been placed next to him and opened it. After searching for a while, he took out a notebook that looked a bit worn.

"Have your relative left anything else?"

Donald walked a few steps up to the point where the street lights could illuminate, and turned on the notebook without looking for it. There were only a few pages of handwriting on it.

"No more, I'm just going to help. I discovered this note by accident. Can I leave now?"

"Of course, I'm afraid I won't see it anymore."

Bang!

The gunfire flashed, untied the rope tied under the stone bricks on the shore, and let the corpse fall into the river.

"You should pay for the lives of the four people you killed. When they died, they should be in so much pain than you are now."

Just because of his words, all four people, including the predecessor, were devoured by the demons, and with the secrets he knew now, Donald had no reason to let him go.

Picking up the suitcase on the ground, Donald went to a nearby street light and found a bench to sit down, took Finger into his arms, and began to read the notes.

Judging from the occasional dates on the notes, this is indeed something from a few years ago. Donald quickly found the part that the fortune teller said before, on the last page with handwriting.

Turn forward.

"Grant needs my help for his children...we have been friends for many years and I am determined to help him!"

In addition to recording the things in the Puston City Library and the necessity of Donald, Donald also saw this sentence on one of the pages.

It turned out that this news should have been known to Donald a few years ago, but because of some accident, the fortune teller who should have passed the message died before seeing him.

As a result, the news came to him in another way a few years later.

It's a pity that it's one step late.
Chapter completed!