341-345

*Chapter 341: Nightclub*

"Hey, brother..."

Port-au-Prince, in front of a nightclub.

San spread his arms wide and gave the security guard at the entrance a hug, flashing his bright white teeth in a grin. He then gave the guard a firm handshake while discreetly passing along a prepared 500-gourde tip.

"You again, San."

The security guard, who had initially maintained a stern expression, glanced at the money in his hand and couldn't help but smirk. Casually slipping the cash into his pocket, he looked at San and then surveyed the group behind him before speaking casually.

"It's been a while since I last saw you here."

"No choice, brother. Business has been rough lately. There aren’t as many tourists coming to Port-au-Prince anymore. I haven’t had a proper job in ages—I was this close to eating dirt."

San complained about the dire economic situation, then gestured toward Amanda and the others behind him. "These folks are some customers I barely managed to pick up from the airport. You know how it is—after the power outage, there’s nowhere else around here to go except for your nightclub. So, I figured I’d bring them over for the experience."

Since he had already accepted San’s money, the security guard had no reason to turn them away.

"You know the rules. Just don’t cause any trouble inside."

With a brief warning, the guard stepped aside and pulled open the heavy iron door behind him.

As the door swung open, the deafening beat of nightclub music blasted through the entrance.

"Relax, buddy. We’re just here to take a look around."

Patting his chest confidently, San reassured the guard before turning to Joey and waving the others forward.

At his signal, Joey immediately led Amanda and the group inside in an orderly fashion.

After counting heads and confirming that even Agent Phil had entered, San finally felt at ease and followed them in.

---

*Outside the Nightclub*

"Hey! We got here first!"

Seeing the security guard letting people in, frustrated voices erupted from the long queue outside the club. Many had been waiting for ages, only to be turned away by the same guard, who kept insisting the club was at capacity.

"These guests had reservations."

The security guard patted his pocket before glaring at the complaining crowd.

"If you have a problem with that, feel free to take it up with the Voodoo priests."

At the mention of the Voodoo priests, the previously disgruntled crowd fell silent. Fear flickered across their faces, and they quickly shut their mouths, their expressions tinged with apprehension.

Satisfied with their reaction, the guard gave a small nod. However, a nearly imperceptible hint of fear crossed his own face as well.

While the Voodoo priests instilled fear in the local population, making it easy to quiet troublemakers, the truth was that even the guard himself was terrified of them.

---

*Inside the Club*

"Everyone, welcome to the hottest nightclub in Port-au-Prince!"

The moment they stepped inside, a barrage of flashing lights, pulsating music, and intense scenes unfolded before them.

Sweeping her gaze over the dancers on stage, Amanda wrinkled her brow at the overwhelming noise and dazzling lights.

Just one street over, the neighborhood was shrouded in darkness due to the power outage.

Yet, here, the club was ablaze with lights, and everyone was lost in the energy of the party, as if the city’s electricity crisis had nothing to do with this place at all.

Amidst the wild atmosphere, the *Voodoo Doll* in Joey’s pocket quietly peeked its head out.

Its red button eyes gleamed under the strobe lights, and as the rhythmic beats pounded through the club, it instinctively bobbed its fuzzy little head in sync.

"Don’t forget why we’re here!"

Tearing his gaze away from the glistening bodies on stage, Agent Phil swallowed hard and reminded Agent Zhou.

"What?"

Unfortunately, the pounding music completely drowned out his voice.

"I said—don’t forget our mission!"

Seeing Zhou’s confused look, Phil raised his voice and shouted again.

Just as he did, the club’s music suddenly cut out for a brief moment.

Phil’s voice echoed across the entire nightclub.

---

A wave of silence washed over the room as all eyes turned toward them—curious, annoyed, or both.

Sensing the sudden attention, Joey nonchalantly shuffled to the side, subtly pushing the *Voodoo Doll* back into his pocket.

"I know why we’re here—it’s to have fun."

Maintaining a straight face, Agent Zhou nodded before striding toward the center of the nightclub.

Phil’s outburst had already drawn too much attention, and he wasn’t planning on standing around any longer.

As Zhou moved forward, the club’s music resumed, and the tension evaporated. The other patrons gradually lost interest and returned to their partying.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Phil finally relaxed.

For a moment there, when all eyes were on him, he had felt like his heart had stopped beating.

Thankfully, the situation hadn’t escalated.

Amanda and the others exchanged glances.

"Well, since we’re already here, are we just going to stand around?"

Signaling with her eyes, Amanda and Angela veered off toward another part of the club.

Before leaving, Amanda turned back to Phil with a final instruction.

"Phil, you stay with San and get us some drinks."

On the surface, she was just assigning him a simple task, but in reality, she wanted him to keep an eye on San and make sure he didn’t cause any trouble during their mission.

"Leave it to me."

Although Phil would have preferred to join in on their objective, he was well aware of the close call he had just had. Knowing his limits, he nodded and took San along to the bar.

As the team dispersed, Joey reached into his pocket, rubbing the fuzzy *Voodoo Doll* inside. Satisfied by its soft texture, he took his time, leisurely strolling toward a random direction inside the club.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 342: Investigation Target*

Port-au-Prince, inside a nightclub.

The pulsating music stimulated the nerves, while multicolored lights flickered continuously in the dimly lit room.

Haiti has a total population of over eight million, with more than ninety percent being Black. The remaining small percentage, though not entirely Black, still have mixed heritage to some extent.

Declining the enthusiastic advances of several local Haitian girls, the Fortune Teller absentmindedly stroked the head of the *Voodoo Doll* in his pocket while quietly observing the nightclub.

On the surface, it seemed like an ordinary nightclub.

In fact, from Joey’s perspective, this nightclub—built with simple corrugated iron sheets—would undoubtedly be considered an illegal structure in most other parts of the world.

However, given Haiti’s extreme poverty, the fact that a nightclub could operate in an area lacking even the most basic electrical infrastructure was already remarkable in itself.

Just a few streets away from the nightclub, many impoverished locals struggled to meet even their most basic needs, some barely clothed and living in dire conditions.

Scanning the area around the corrugated iron building, Joey noticed several men acting as security.

Due to the poor economic conditions, law and order in Haiti were equally dire. One couldn’t expect much from a country where presidents changed every few days. The police, responsible for maintaining public order, were uncertain if their superior officers would still be in charge tomorrow. Additionally, due to the government’s severe financial issues, it was common for Haitian police officers to go unpaid, leading to rampant corruption within the force.

As a result, law enforcement was barely functional.

In such an environment, ordinary Haitians tended to trust the local Voodoo religion more than the notoriously greedy police.

After all, while Voodoo might be terrifying, at most, it only forced them to believe.

The police, on the other hand, would take their actual money.

Joey’s gaze swept over the nightclub’s security personnel before pausing on a man with a white symbol painted across his face.

Judging by the fearful glances that locals occasionally cast his way, it was clear that this man was no ordinary figure.

As the actual designer of this script, Fortune Teller Joey—or rather, Allen, the one controlling this character—knew precisely who he was.

This strangely dressed man was the Voodoo Priest whom he had deliberately placed within the script.

His existence served a specific purpose—to guide Amanda and her team toward Voodoo as the central clue.

Withdrawing his gaze from the priest, Joey chose not to inform Amanda and the others about his discovery.

The Fortune Teller’s role was merely to push the plot forward. If he inserted himself too much, it could create unintended spoilers, diminishing the sense of suspense and excitement that Allen experienced while watching the script unfold from the system panel back in the U.S.

As expected, even without the Fortune Teller Joey’s help, Amanda and her team soon noticed the Voodoo Priest, who stood out starkly from the nightclub’s atmosphere.

Disguised as tourists eager to experience Haitian culture, they danced along to the music for a while before regrouping at a table that Agent Phil had reserved for them in advance.

"San, come dance with me."

Seeing Amanda and the others return from their investigation, Agent Phil cooperatively stood up and led their guide, San, into the crowd.

"I checked the surroundings. The nightclub’s security all seem to be armed."

A short distance away, Phil and San danced among the revelers.

Meanwhile, Amanda and her team discussed matters that felt out of place amid the lively nightclub atmosphere.

Agent Zhou lifted his glass to conceal his mouth and spoke in a low voice that only those at the table could hear.

"San mentioned that law enforcement in Haiti is poor, and shootouts between police and local gangs are common."

Not only Zhou, but Amanda had also noticed the armed nightclub security. Since the team had opted not to bring any weapons to ensure smooth operations, they were at a disadvantage.

Through their supernatural investigations, they had learned that ordinary weapons were almost useless against the paranormal. However, in the chaotic environment of Haiti, having firearms was essential for survival.

"We need to find a way to acquire some weapons so we don’t end up too vulnerable in the next phase of our operation."

"Perhaps San can help us figure something out?"

Casually stroking the *Voodoo Doll* peeking out of his pocket, the Fortune Teller suggested offhandedly.

"San is just the guide we met at the airport."

Dismissing the idea, Amanda was unwilling to let an unfamiliar Haitian discover the true purpose of their team’s mission.

"We could go through the U.S. embassy."

After frowning in thought for a moment, Agent Zhou quickly considered seeking help from the embassy.

As Haiti’s largest aid provider, the United States had considerable influence in the country, which could prove beneficial for BSI’s upcoming operations.

"The embassy could also help us resolve the internet issue."

Hearing Zhou’s suggestion, Angela immediately chimed in.

Without internet access, many parts of their investigation were at a standstill.

"We can ask San about the embassy tomorrow."

Nodding in agreement with Zhou’s idea, Amanda then casually glanced toward the Voodoo Priest sitting in the corner.

"Since earlier, at least three nightclub security guards have approached the man in the corner. Judging by their expressions, they seem to fear or respect him greatly."

"Could he be the nightclub owner?"

"I’ve looked into Voodoo intelligence. That man is most likely a Voodoo Priest."

"I remember San mentioning that this nightclub has ties to the local Voodoo community..."

At the table, the team exchanged their observations.

However, due to the lack of solid clues, they couldn’t pinpoint the exact leads they were looking for and could only make rough judgments.

In a completely unfamiliar country, without any intelligence support, expecting to locate their target immediately was something that only happened in movies.

"Maybe we can just ask San directly."

Noticing that Amanda and the others had already identified the Voodoo Priest, Spike—who had been quietly listening—spoke up, seemingly without much thought.

Before Amanda and the others could react, he raised his arm and waved toward the dancing crowd.

"Hey, San!"

*(End of Chapter)*

*Chapter 343: The Legend of the Revenant Corpse*

Amidst the dancing crowd, a medium’s call caught attention.

Sang reluctantly stepped out from the crowd, moving to the bar table as the energetic music played on, observing the people around him.

"Are you all planning to leave?"

The approaching tour guide caused Amanda to pause her discussion. She shot a glare at Spike, who stood before her, clearly displeased with his impulsive actions.

"No, I just wanted to ask about that guy sitting in the corner. Everyone in the club seems terrified of him."

Following Spike’s pointed direction, Sang glanced toward the nightclub's dimly lit corner.

Upon noticing the silhouette of a Voodoo priest, his previous excitement quickly turned to fear. He immediately turned back, lowering his voice to a whisper so only the team could hear him.

"That is a Voodoo priest. He’s here to oversee the nightclub. Due to frequent riots, local authorities in Haiti conduct searches every now and then. The priest’s role is to remind the police to restrain themselves, signaling that the nightclub is under Voodoo control and not just any place they can raid freely."

"As for why people fear him—it’s because of the Voodoo religion. As the most dominant belief system in Haiti, Voodoo possesses unimaginable power. Becoming a priest in Voodoo means mastering formidable Voodoo magic. These priests wield terrifying curses and can control others through supernatural means."

"In Haiti, everyone knows that if you offend the president, you might get killed. But if you anger a Voodoo priest, you won’t just die—you might be turned into a revenant corpse."

Sang’s words painted a dark and mysterious image of Voodoo priests in the minds of the team.

"So, does that mean revenant corpses really exist?"

At the table, Amanda exchanged glances with the others before Angela, looking skeptical, turned to Sang and asked.

"Of course."

Noticing Angela’s doubtful expression, Sang immediately continued, "Revenant corpses are real. I've seen them more than once near Voodoo temples. My grandfather’s brother’s son’s neighbor’s friend was turned into one after offending a Voodoo priest. They say that revenant corpses can move, eat, follow commands, and even speak. But they have no memories and don’t understand their surroundings."

"They are walking dead—by far the most terrifying power within Voodoo magic."

"No one wants to become a revenant corpse. No one."

If it were anyone else listening to Sang’s words, they might dismiss them as nothing more than an old Haitian urban legend, just another exaggeration that further mystifies Voodoo.

However, the people at the table were all members of the BSI (Bureau of Supernatural Investigations). Having encountered the supernatural multiple times before, they feigned disbelief but couldn’t fully conceal their unease.

Internally, they had already begun paying closer attention to Voodoo and the legend of the revenant corpse.

If Voodoo priests truly had the ability to create revenant corpses, then the catastrophic event mentioned in the prophecy might be connected to Voodoo.

Or perhaps, the disaster itself was something orchestrated by Voodoo priests.

As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Amanda lifted her gaze toward the fortune teller across from her.

Yet, Joey, sitting directly opposite, seemed oblivious to Amanda’s questioning look. Instead, he lowered his head, gently stroking the soft, round head of a *Voodoo doll* inside his pocket.

---

*On the Coastline, in the Ruined Slums*

A demon hunter weaved through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways between dilapidated buildings. The darkness of the night did not hinder his vision.

Due to the lack of urban planning, the slums looked like an immense pile of illegally built structures stacked upon one another.

As he passed through crumbling walls and ruined buildings, Geralt could still sense the lingering devastation left by the great earthquake that had ravaged the country.

Among the collapsed structures, decayed corpses and exposed bones were faintly visible.

Although nearly a year had passed since the earthquake, Haiti's response to handling the deceased had been painfully slow. Or rather, the government had no intention of dealing with the remains at all.

They simply left the bodies abandoned among the rubble.

Despite seeing countless discarded corpses in the slums, the demon hunter's expression remained unchanged. He moved through the ruins in silence, his steady footsteps echoing in the eerie stillness.

---

*The Next Morning*

"Yawn~"

"Good morning!"

"Morning, Phil."

Early the next morning, as he stepped out of his room, Agent Phil yawned and greeted the other members who had already woken up.

Covering his mouth, he stretched his stiff neck.

Although Sang had assured them that their lodging was one of the best in Haiti, the night’s sleep had been far from comfortable—he would have preferred crashing on the couch back at BSI headquarters.

"You woke up a little late, Phil."

After rinsing his mouth and spitting out the water, Agent Zhou glanced at Phil’s swollen face and pointed at the empty bucket by his feet.

"I’ve already used up the water I fetched earlier. If you want to wash your face and brush your teeth, you’ll have to go downstairs and get another bucket yourself."

In Haiti, most essential supplies come from international aid. Due to the struggling economy and chaotic political situation, even basic utilities like electricity and running water are scarce.

Even in Port-au-Prince, the capital, there isn’t a complete water supply system. Most Haitians rely either on purchasing clean water or fetching it from wells.

Carrying the empty bucket, Agent Phil made his way downstairs to the well.

"Good morning, Phil."

"Morning, boss. Morning, Joey..."

"And Spike."

As he passed through the hallway, he saw the others already eating breakfast in the dining area.

On their plates was *olive oil rice*, a staple dish among the locals.

The preparation involved boiling water, adding rice, and then mixing in olive oil. Once the water evaporated and the rice was cooked, it was rinsed with cold water, coated with butter, and then steamed again until dry.

*(End of Chapter)*

*Chapter 344: Splitting Up*

The preparation method of this dish clearly reflected the local standard of living in Haiti. Simply pairing rice with olive oil was considered a meal, though it had no real appeal in terms of taste. Its primary function was merely to fill the stomach, adding some grease to the rice to make it slightly less monotonous.

According to the guide, local residents only consumed meat, poultry, eggs, and dairy products on special occasions and holidays.

On regular days, their staple foods consisted primarily of olive oil rice, sweet potatoes, yams, potatoes, and legumes to stave off hunger.

This was a country that had yet to solve even the most basic issues of food security. Over 80% of the population lived below the poverty line, while only those in affluent districts and government officials had access to sufficient resources, enjoying stable electricity and a reliable water supply in their daily lives.

"We saved some breakfast for you."

There weren’t many diners in the restaurant—aside from Amanda and her group, only a few tourists visiting Haiti were present.

Most Haitian residents typically had only two meals a day, and it wasn’t yet mealtime for them.

"Thanks."

With an unkempt face, the man nodded in gratitude.

Agent Phil carried a water bucket to the well near their lodging. About ten minutes later, he returned to the restaurant, now dressed in clean clothes.

Accompanying him was Agent Zhou.

"Based on our investigation at the nightclub last night, there is strong suspicion surrounding the Voodoo cult."

With the entire team gathered, Amanda began delegating tasks in the restaurant.

"The local embassy should have intelligence on the Voodoo cult," Agent Zhou mused, furrowing his brows in thought.

"Zhou, you and Angela will visit the embassy and secure the necessary equipment."

"Phil, you and Spike should return to the nightclub to check if the Voodoo priest we saw last night is still there."

"As for Joey, you and I will head to the area near Port-au-Prince to see if any locations match the prophecy."

Following Amanda's orders, the team split into three groups and set off in different directions.

Agent Zhou and Angela were the first to leave. After quickly finishing his breakfast, Agent Phil took the ever-relaxed Spike with him and departed from their lodging.

Before long, only Amanda and Joey remained in the restaurant.

"So, have you decided where we’re going today?"

Joey absentmindedly fiddled with the *Voodoo Doll* in his pocket, shoving it back inside as it struggled to climb out. Looking up at Amanda, he casually asked the question.

He was no stranger to the SBI squad leader.

Not only had he observed Amanda’s actions multiple times in the script, but he had also encountered her briefly in real life.

Though, she had likely long forgotten about him.

"I haven’t decided yet."

Amanda frowned slightly at Joey’s question.

From the start, their mission in Haiti had been riddled with unforeseen circumstances. The team had come here solely because of a prophecy.

In such an unfamiliar country, SBI’s intelligence-gathering capabilities were severely limited. Even the CIA had minimal influence in Haiti—establishing a comprehensive intelligence network in such a poor and underdeveloped region required a level of funding and effort comparable to waging a small-scale war. Haiti simply wasn’t important enough for the United States to invest that much attention.

Furthermore, the real-world CIA was far from the omniscient entity often portrayed in movies. Otherwise, in future military withdrawals, the U.S. wouldn’t end up retreating in such an embarrassing manner.

After all, even a military intelligence system built over twenty years at the cost of trillions of dollars had its flaws.

Amanda sat in silence, lost in thought.

"Since that’s the case, why don’t we start by following the intel given by our guide, San? We can check out the major tourist attractions near Port-au-Prince. Maybe I’ll spot a location that matches the prophecy. At the very least, we can be certain that our current lodging isn’t the place."

Seeing Amanda’s silent contemplation, Joey made a suggestion.

"…"

Amanda glanced at the fortune teller across from her. Although she suspected that Joey was just using the prophecy as an excuse to go sightseeing, she couldn’t outright reject the idea. Since he had already brought up the prophecy, she had no choice but to agree.

In his pocket, upon hearing that they were heading out, the *Voodoo Doll* immediately jabbed Joey’s pants with its tiny trident, which was about the size of a toothpick.

Noticing the movement in his pocket, Joey looked down and locked eyes with the *Voodoo Doll’s* red button-like eyes.

"So, you want to go out and see as well?"

Hearing Joey’s question, the *Voodoo Doll* eagerly nodded.

"I almost forgot—this place is your homeland, after all."

Despite its button eyes, Joey could somehow perceive the doll’s excitement.

Scratching his messy hair, Joey had a moment of realization. He then picked up the *Voodoo Doll* from his pocket, placing it in his palm with a resigned expression.

"Alright, alright. I get it. I’ll let you look around outside."

"But listen up—you must remain still while we’re out. No movement, and absolutely don’t let anyone notice you can move. This is the heartland of the Voodoo cult, and they are very familiar with *Voodoo Dolls*. If their priests discover you, they might capture you as a sacrificial offering. Understood?"

In Joey’s palm, the *Voodoo Doll* frantically nodded its yarn-stitched head and waved its tiny trident, looking as if it was swearing an oath.

A few minutes later, after making their preparations, Joey and Amanda left the inn together.

A small *Voodoo Doll* dangled from the zipper of Joey’s backpack, swaying with each step he took.

This was Joey’s makeshift disguise—turning the *Voodoo Doll* into an accessory.

This way, he could take the doll outside without drawing suspicion. Given how he and Amanda looked, they appeared just like regular tourists. Purchasing a *Voodoo Doll* as a souvenir fit perfectly with their assumed identities.

*(End of Chapter)*

*Chapter 345: Tracking*

A few hundred meters away from the dormitory where everyone was staying, Amanda and Joey quickly arrived at a street littered with garbage.

Once on the street, they could truly experience the local atmosphere of Haiti. On both sides of the road, various vendors occupied the narrow sidewalks, making the already cramped street even more congested.

In addition to the bustling vendors, the streets were filled with modified vehicles.

Joey and Amanda chose a small pickup truck, known locally as a "TapTap," as their mode of transportation.

TapTaps are a common means of transport in Haiti. These small pickup trucks are modified to carry passengers, with open-air rear seats and often a wooden plank extending from the back to accommodate more people. Overcrowding is common, and as long as the vehicle doesn’t tip over, the local police usually turn a blind eye.

After waiting for a while in the TapTap, the driver finally approached, clearly reluctant. He scanned the passengers, ensuring that no more could be crammed in, then turned and waved off the remaining people waiting for a ride before collecting fares from those already onboard.

Amanda and Joey paid the ten-gourde fare for both of them. The driver counted the money, did a quick headcount to confirm the correct number of passengers, and then returned to the driver’s seat. The vehicle roared to life with a sputtering engine and began moving.

Squeezed into the crowded TapTap, Amanda barely had enough space to sit. As she endured the cramped conditions and the rough, bumpy ride, she silently hoped that Agents Zhou and Angela would successfully retrieve the necessary equipment and vehicles from the local embassy. Otherwise, given the difficulty of simply getting around, how could they even begin investigating the "great disaster" foretold in the prophecy?

...

"This should be the place."

Arriving ahead of schedule, the TapTap dropped off Agents Zhou and Angela near the U.S. Embassy in Port-au-Prince.

Agent Zhou took a look at the conspicuous building, which stood out from the surrounding structures. He then glanced at the flag flying above it before stepping toward the embassy entrance.

"Stop right there."

Seeing an Asian man approaching the U.S. Embassy, the security guards at the gate immediately blocked his path, their expressions stern.

"This is the United States Embassy in Haiti. Only U.S. citizens are permitted to enter or seek assistance."

"We are U.S. citizens."

Angela quickly spoke up, looking at the Haitian security guards who were blocking their way.

Hearing her words, the guards exchanged glances. Noticing her Caucasian features, they stepped aside.

"Hello, this is the U.S. Embassy. How can we assist you?" a staff member at the reception desk asked as the two entered.

"We need to see the ambassador."

Considering the purpose of their mission, only the local U.S. ambassador could provide the necessary assistance.

"I’m sorry, but not just anyone can meet with the ambassador."

The U.S. ambassador represents the country itself. Although officials assigned to Haiti might not hold the highest ranks or wield significant political influence back in the United States, they are still ambassadors nonetheless.

"We have an appointment. Just inform the ambassador that we are from the BSI."

Since their mission required the cooperation of the local embassy, Amanda and the team had, of course, contacted the U.S. BSI headquarters in advance.

Upon hearing the mention of the BSI, the staff member's previously formal demeanor immediately shifted.

"I understand. The ambassador is upstairs."

...

"It seems like the Vodou priest isn't here."

Outside a nightclub constructed from corrugated metal sheets, Agent Phil frowned.

The tightly shut metal door and the sparse, lingering crowd in the area made it clear that even in Haiti, nightclubs weren’t in business this early in the morning.

"By the way, Spike, what do you know about Vodou priests?"

Yawning, Spike lazily scanned the nightclub’s exterior before replying nonchalantly, "Not much. But I do know that most Vodou rituals are deeply intertwined with death. This likely has to do with the deities they worship. In Vodou beliefs, everything in the physical world is just a facade, and behind it lies a more profound spiritual force. Priests and sorcerers serve as intermediaries between humans and the gods."

"They rule their followers through fear and death, drawing power from the gods."

After listening to Spike’s explanation, Agent Phil turned back to examine the metal-clad nightclub.

As an American, he found Vodou both intriguing and unsettling.

The United States, being a religious nation itself, had a strong tradition of faith. However, the depth of Vodou’s influence in Haiti seemed unparalleled—even the U.S. couldn't compare.

"Wait a second."

While Phil was deep in thought, his gaze suddenly locked onto the nightclub entrance, where a familiar figure emerged.

"Isn’t that the Vodou priest we saw last night?"

Spike, following Phil’s line of sight, also noticed the priest.

They had assumed he was no longer in the nightclub, yet here he was, stepping out into broad daylight.

The priest glanced casually around before walking off toward a different district, away from the nightclub.

"Quick, follow him. Let’s see where he’s going."

Watching the priest disappear into the distance, Agent Phil quickly urged Spike before hastening after him.

"Be careful, Phil. Don’t forget, this is Vodou territory. Following a Vodou priest like this could get us into serious trouble."

Seeing Phil’s impatience, Spike shook his head and sighed. Still, he quickened his pace, following his partner into the unknown.

*(End of Chapter)*