331-335

Chapter 331: Back to the Bar 

Inside the car, the BSI agent on surveillance watched everything unfold with a look of detached indifference. 

However, the very next second— 

Bang! Bang! 

The hulking figure suddenly pulled out a vintage-looking shotgun from under his coat and fired several shots at the wall near the entrance of the alley. 

Almost instantly, under the watchful eyes of two nearby BSI agents, the chaotic alleyway—previously cluttered with junk—began to distort violently. In the blink of an eye, a brightly lit bar appeared out of nowhere, blasting loud music and noisy chatter from within. 

A neon sign above the bar’s entrance flickered erratically, displaying a burning bone. 

The air was tinged with the faint, acrid scent of something burning. 

The man holstered his shotgun as he stared at the bar in front of him. 

In the dim glow of the neon lights, the outline of a cigar clenched between his teeth became visible, along with a jagged scar running across his left eye. 

Once the man disappeared into the bar— 

The two BSI agents in the car exchanged a glance, as if snapping out of a trance. 

“Report to HQ, something’s happening!” 

The agent in the driver’s seat, clearly shaken, grabbed the radio equipment from the dashboard. 

“The [BSI-028 Bar] has appeared, and a target has entered…” 

“Any leads?” 

Washington, BSI Headquarters. 

Stepping out of the interrogation room, Amanda let out a long sigh of relief and turned to Angela, who was in charge of the investigation. 

Joey was by far the strangest subject Amanda had ever interrogated. The most puzzling part was that he had come to BSI voluntarily—not as a captured criminal—which made it impossible for her to use many of her usual interrogation techniques. 

“No job, no permanent residence, and not much useful information.” 

Spike casually chimed in as he exited the room next door. 

“How do you know that?” 

Amanda couldn’t help but ask after hearing his comment. 

“That’s the reality for most struggling fortune-tellers,” Spike replied. “They might make a living predicting the future, but they can’t use those predictions to change their own fate.” 

“This guy—messy hair, cheap clothes—definitely doesn’t look like someone getting rich off his readings.” 

“I always thought fortune-tellers made good money,” Angela said, temporarily forgetting her role in the investigation. 

“Not quite.” 

Spike wagged a finger at her before continuing. 

“Being able to predict the future doesn’t guarantee wealth. Ironically, it’s the con artists—those who fake results—who often make the most money. People want to hear good things about their future, not the harsh truth.” 

“Now, what’s your report, Angela?” 

Amanda cut off Spike’s rambling. 

“All I could find was that he used to be part of a group of Romani drifters, performing with them for some time before disappearing—until now.” 

Angela’s findings confirmed Spike’s suspicions. 

He nodded toward Amanda. 

“So, Joey really came to BSI just to warn us about some impending disaster? Is he truly a fortune-teller?” 

“No doubt about it,” Spike said, slumping onto the office couch. 

“Still, there are some questions I haven’t figured out yet.” 

“Like what?” Amanda asked. 

“Why is Joey so sure we can help him prevent the disaster? And where did he learn about the rise of darkness in the first place?” 

Amanda considered this for a moment. 

“Isn’t he a fortune-teller? If he can see the future, then knowing about the rise of darkness shouldn’t be that hard, right?” 

“No, fortune-tellers have their limits,” Spike replied, shaking his head. 

“At best, they catch glimpses of fragmented futures—never concrete facts. Someone must have told him about the darkness rising.” 

Just then, an agent approached them. 

“We’ve got another development.” 

“The bar’s back on the radar. The surveillance team saw someone go inside.” 

Hearing the agent’s report, Amanda and Spike exchanged a serious look, putting their discussion about Joey on hold. 

“Looks like there’s more than one way into the bar.” 

Standing at the alley’s entrance, Amanda had an odd expression after hearing from the BSI agent about how the target had entered. 

The alley’s illusion was just a trick set by [Saigong] to keep ordinary people out. 

Once someone knew the bar’s exact location, getting inside became easy. 

“Just a simple illusion barrier,” Spike casually explained. 

He touched the ring on his finger and snapped his fingers. 

Snap— 

With a crisp sound, the hidden bar reappeared before their eyes. 

The neon sign above the door—still showing the burning bone—looked eerily lifelike, and the bar’s loud, chaotic noise poured out once more. 

“If you miss the train I’m on 

You will know that I am gone 

You can hear the whistle blow 

A hundred miles, a hundred miles…” 

Following Spike’s lead, they stepped into the bar again. 

The interior was exactly the same as before: 

The same sorrowful country ballad played in the background. 

The same retro 1980s décor filled the space. 

Amanda still couldn’t understand why a demon like [Saigong] would be so obsessed with the 1980s—even freezing the entire bar’s timeline in that era. 

Glancing over at Spike, she noticed his clothes had automatically transformed to match the 80s aesthetic. 

“Guests, please follow me.” 

Before Amanda could speak, a pale, gaunt figure appeared at the entrance, speaking in a weak, almost lifeless voice—as if he had been expecting them all along. 

“The boss has been waiting for quite some time.” 

Amanda exchanged a glance with Spike. The latter simply nodded before stepping forward. 

“In that case, lead the way.” 

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 332: Confrontation  

Led by the waiter, the two walked toward the private lounge.  

Inside the bar, a cacophony of laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air. The patrons seemed carefree, indulging in the pleasures of the moment.  

“……”  

Passing through the main hall and stepping into the lounge, the once-overwhelming noise was instantly muffled.  

Inside, Amanda saw Saigon, still clad in his signature red suit.  

But the figure seated across from him made Amanda’s heart skip a beat.  

The man sitting there was none other than Geralt the Demon Hunter, whom she had once encountered in the Devil’s Forest.  

With one hand gripping his demon-hunting rifle, Geralt aimed it directly at Saigon.  

His gaze swept across Spike and Amanda as they entered, lingering on Amanda for a brief moment. Yet, his grip on the rifle remained unwavering.  

“Tell me, Demon Lord—where are they?”  

Despite the hunter’s threat, Saigon showed no sign of concern. Lifting his glass, he nodded slightly toward Amanda before taking a sip of the crimson liquid inside. His gaze shifted back to Geralt as he spoke.  

“I have no interest in getting entangled in your troubles, hunter. Your prey is not here. Now, leave my bar.”  

His eyes flickered, shifting into golden, beast-like pupils—a clear warning to the uninvited guest.  

As the owner of this bar, Saigon made it abundantly clear—Geralt was not welcome.  

With his warning, an intense aura erupted from his body.  

Sensing the demon’s anger, the lively chatter in the main hall came to an abrupt halt.  

“If you miss the train… 

You will…m gone… 

…hear the whistle blow… 

…miles… 

A hundred mil….”  

The sorrowful country ballad distorted, twisting into something unnatural.  

The entire bar grew eerie under its master's wrath, but Geralt—standing at the center of it all—remained unfazed. His expression was as resolute as ever.  

The ember of his cigar flickered at the corner of his lips.  

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been doing in the real world, Demon Lord. If you don’t want to be exiled back to hell, tell me where that little wolf pup is…”  

“Or perhaps… this will jog your memory.”  

As he spoke, Geralt reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver bullet, its surface engraved with strange, arcane runes.  

“Where did you get that?!”  

“That type of bullet should have been lost long ago, during the last great purge.”  

Saigon’s pupils contracted slightly, his grip on his wine glass faltering. The fragile crystal shattered in his hand.  

“Don’t forget who I am,” Geralt said coldly. “From the moment demon hunters were created, our sole purpose has been to drive you damned creatures back where you belong.”  

He ignored Saigon’s demand for an answer. Instead, his rifle hummed with a mysterious glow as ancient runes flickered along its barrel. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.  

“I’m giving you a choice, Demon Lord. Either tell me where they are… or I’ll personally send you back.”  

“……”  

Saigon’s rage surged.  

Two enormous, spiraling horns sprouted from his forehead, and behind him, a pair of griffin-like wings unfurled, sending a powerful gust of wind roaring through the lounge.  

“You dare threaten me? A mere demon hunter, standing before one of the seventy-two legendary Demon Lords, dares to threaten me?”  

“Don’t forget who cast you back into hell last time, Demon Lord.”  

Geralt’s words were calm, yet razor-sharp.  

Saigon’s fury intensified, and the wind within the room became razor-like, slicing through the air.  

Amanda instinctively shut her eyes against the biting force. Just when she thought Saigon would lash out in retaliation, the storm ceased.  

The Demon Lord—still seething—gradually retracted his monstrous form, returning to his humanoid shape in the red suit.  

“This… is why I hate you demon hunters.” He exhaled sharply. “You twist your own bodies in pursuit of power, warping even your very souls…”  

With a snap of his fingers, the shattered wine glass reassembled itself in his palm.  

Downing the remaining red wine, he smirked.  

“To be honest, you hunters are barely human anymore. And the worst part? Most people don’t even know the sacrifices you’ve made. *Was it all worth it?*”  

The latest updates are first released on Six9 Book Bar!  

“Demon hunters don’t do what they do for others,” Geralt replied without hesitation. “We do it for ourselves.”  

His voice was steady, unwavering.  

Saigon arched a brow, unimpressed.  

Talking to this man was as bland as drinking watered-down wine.  

“…As for the ones you’re looking for, I don’t know much. But I recently caught wind of something interesting from the Spirit Realm—someone from the Lower Spirit Realm is preparing to descend into the real world. The ones you seek might be drawn to that event.”  

Geralt’s eyes narrowed slightly. The embers of his cigar flared as he pressed further.  

“Where is this descent happening?”  

“…Haiti.”  

Saigon wasted no time revealing the location. He was eager to rid his bar of this killjoy.  

“I hear that particular entity is quite popular in Haiti. Plenty of people worship it. So don’t say I didn’t warn you—*be careful not to become the hunted instead.*”  

His words carried a tone of mock concern, but his expression was anything but.  

If anything, he was hoping Geralt would meet his doom.  

The thought alone amused him.  

“Your concern is unnecessary.”  

Ignoring Saigon’s taunting smirk, Geralt coldly holstered his rifle.  

His gaze shifted toward Spike and Amanda.  

It was clear that he recognized Amanda—but he said nothing. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the bar.  

—End of Chapter 

Chapter 333: Divination 

"Alright, that annoying guy is finally gone." 

Withdrawing his gaze from the retreating figure of the demon hunter, Saigong swirled his empty wine glass.  

In the next moment, a crimson wine exuding an otherworldly aroma reappeared in the glass.  

The demon god turned toward Spike and Amanda, nodding slightly as he spoke. 

"Apologies for making you witness such an unpleasant scene."  

"So, Spike, what brings you to the bar this time?"  

Faced with Saigong's question, Spike’s eyes wandered over the disheveled state of the bar’s private room.  

As his gaze lingered, the shattered tables and chairs gradually returned to their original positions, as if the entire scene had been nothing more than an illusion.  

Curling his lips into a bitter smile, Spike looked at the demon god before him and replied, 

"If I told you my purpose was to meet that demon hunter from earlier, would you believe me?"  

Saigong silently swirled the wine in his glass, studying Spike for a moment. Then, with a grin, he replied, 

"I would. Why wouldn’t I?"  

"So, in that moment, Spike, did you feel a bit of regret? If the demon hunter's bullet had actually struck me, I would have been banished back to Hell, and the contract between us would have been voided..."  

"Honestly, yes, I did feel a little regret."  

Spike’s response was unexpectedly honest.  

"You really are an interesting guy, Spike."  

Gazing into the medium’s deep blue eyes, Saigong's smile widened.  

As he twirled the wine in his glass, a faint, ghostly face seemed to flicker within the liquid.  

Outside the bar...  

Although this wasn’t Amanda’s first time seeing Saigong’s true form, her heart still couldn’t help but race at the sight of his demonic visage in the private room.  

Compared to a demon god’s power, humans were just too fragile.  

But when she thought about the confrontation between the demon hunter and the demon god...  

Even a being as powerful as Saigong had to back down when faced with the demon hunter’s threat.  

Amanda couldn’t help but feel a swirl of complicated emotions inside her.  

"How much do you know about demon hunters, Spike?"  

Taking a deep breath, Amanda turned toward the medium, who had also just left the bar with her.  

"Not much," Spike replied with a slight shake of his head, choosing his words carefully. 

"I only know that demon hunters have been around for ages, and they're incredibly dangerous. To exterminate monsters and demons, they often resort to extreme measures—modifying their own bodies to gain greater power. While this gives them combat strength far beyond that of ordinary humans, it also makes them more susceptible to falling into darkness themselves..."  

"From what I’ve heard, there are very few demon hunters left in the world today. Most of them died in a great war, and the survivors lost their ability to pass down their skills. They can no longer train new demon hunters."  

From Spike’s explanation, Amanda caught a glimpse of the demon hunters’ tragic history.  

She thought of Geralt—the huge scar across his left eye seemed to reflect the shadow of that devastating war.  

Perhaps that was the Great Purge.  

BSI Headquarters – The Squad’s Office  

"I see it..."  

In the office, Joy, the diviner, muttered cryptically as he stared into his crystal ball.  

Across from him, the rest of the squad—Phil, Angela, and Agent Zhou—watched intently, their faces serious.  

"In the near future, you will face a life-threatening crisis. This danger won’t strike here in America, but somewhere much farther away..."  

"Looks like you all have plenty of free time?"  

Amanda’s emotionless voice cut through the room as she returned to headquarters, raising an eyebrow at her team gathered around Joy.  

"Boss?"  

"When did you get back...?"  

Hearing Amanda’s voice, Phil and the others instantly snapped to attention, as if waking from a trance.  

Their faces turned awkward as they noticed Spike shrugging nonchalantly behind Amanda.  

It was the kind of embarrassment that came from getting caught slacking off by your boss.  

"Didn’t expect that I’d be gone for just a short while, and you’re already this cozy with him."  

Amanda’s gaze swept across the team and lingered on Agent Zhou a little longer than the others.  

If it had been any other team member, Amanda might have understood.  

But Zhou, an experienced and disciplined agent, being caught up in this too? That was hard to believe.  

"I was just trying to see if there was anything useful in his divination that could help our investigation," Zhou said with his usual stoic professionalism.  

Given Zhou’s track record, Amanda reluctantly accepted the explanation with a nod.  

She then turned her gaze toward the other two.  

"Spike already confirmed that the diviner’s power is real."  

Under Amanda’s sharp glare, Phil and Angela quickly gave in and confessed what had happened.  

"So, we wanted to see if it was actually true."  

"Just now, Joy predicted through his crystal ball that Phil would have bad luck. And not long after the reading, Phil tripped and tore a huge hole in his clothes..."  

"It’s true, boss!"  

While Angela explained, Phil held up the ripped piece of clothing and pointed to the hole near his waist, sounding genuinely agitated.  

"And it wasn’t just me—plenty of other agents who got readings from Joy ran into bad luck too. Compared to them, I got off easy. One guy didn’t believe in the prediction, slipped on the stairs, and crashed into the department chief. He’s still in the chief’s office writing a report."  

With so many examples supporting Joy’s abilities, it was no wonder the team was taking his divinations seriously.  

After hearing their accounts, Amanda cast another glance at Joy, who sat there with an air of mystery in front of his crystal ball.  

Her previously skeptical expression softened ever so slightly.  

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 334: The Unlucky Truth  

"The misfortune you encountered is real."  

At that moment, Spike, standing behind Amanda, spoke.  

The medium's slightly drooping eyes shifted to the fortune teller sitting in front of the crystal ball. His gaze fell upon the Voodoo Doll perched on the fortune teller’s shoulder, and he exposed the truth.  

"However, your bad luck isn’t caused by the divination itself but by something far more peculiar."  

Hearing Spike’s words, Amanda turned to look at him.  

He shrugged and stepped forward toward the fortune teller, Joey, then glanced at the Voodoo Doll on his shoulder.  

"Legend has it that Voodoo Dolls originated as ritual objects used by Brazilian headhunting tribes. When strangers or those with ill intent intruded upon their territory, they would be decapitated alive. Their heads would then be placed on an altar, where a shaman would chant incantations to trap their souls within the severed heads. Through a process known as head-shrinking, the heads would be transformed into small, doll-like figures with arms and legs—these are what we now call Voodoo Dolls."  

"The souls imprisoned within these Voodoo Dolls would eventually be drawn to hell, as there were no offerings to sustain them. To prevent this, the tribe would periodically sacrifice a person to appease the Voodoo Doll's spirit. These dolls weren’t just instruments of curses used by shamans; they were embodiments of pure evil. It is said that Voodoo Dolls can drag those with wicked hearts into the depths of hell, while their own souls would be reborn inside the doll, lying in wait for their next prey."  

"Are you saying that the real culprit behind the BSI agents’ misfortunes is the Voodoo Doll on Joey’s shoulder?"  

Upon hearing the legend of the Voodoo Doll, the team's expressions immediately grew more serious.  

Amanda’s gaze fell upon the still, unmoving Voodoo Doll perched on the fortune teller’s shoulder. Instinctively, she reached for her firearm.  

After all, if Spike’s claims were true, then this Voodoo Doll was a malicious entity born from a real human head.  

And if that was the case, its owner—the fortune teller—was certainly no innocent bystander.  

Perhaps his appearance at BSI headquarters wasn’t a coincidence at all.  

Countless thoughts raced through Amanda’s mind in an instant.  

"Hey, calm down, everyone!"  

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Joey quickly raised his hands.  

"It's true that Voodoo Dolls have historical ties to headhunting tribes, but that was a long time ago. The methods used to create modern Voodoo Dolls are entirely different. The one on my shoulder is merely a cursed doll made with voodoo magic and yarn. At most, it can cause minor inconveniences and bad luck—nothing more."  

Hearing Joey’s explanation, Amanda turned to look at Spike. The medium gave a slight nod, signaling that Joey wasn’t lying.  

As he spoke, Joey removed the Voodoo Doll from his shoulder and placed it on the table.  

The moment it was set down, the previously motionless Voodoo Doll shook its fuzzy yarn head. Then, gripping a tiny trident—no thicker than a toothpick—it lunged at Amanda and the others with a "fierce" expression, stabbing at the air a few times.  

"This thing… is alive?"  

Seeing the Voodoo Doll move, Agent Phil and the others couldn’t hide their shock.  

Up until now, they had assumed the Voodoo Doll on Joey’s shoulder was merely a prop—something to enhance the mystique of his fortune-telling.  

"Of course! I went through a lot of trouble to get this Voodoo Doll from a voodoo priest."  

Noting the surprise on everyone's faces, Joey reached out and patted the Voodoo Doll’s fuzzy head, a hint of pride in his voice.  

"So, you're admitting it," Amanda interjected coldly, "Everything that just happened at BSI was caused by your Voodoo Doll."  

Joey's smug expression barely lasted a second before Amanda’s words cut through.  

"Fortune-telling isn’t easy, especially when it comes to something as abstract as luck. So, under normal circumstances, I let the Voodoo Doll handle it."  

"You mean… you make sure the people you read fortunes for actually experience bad luck?" Agent Zhou asked in a sharp tone, eyes locked on the Voodoo Doll, which had now turned its attention to the crystal ball, attacking it with tiny blows.  

"My clients come to me wanting to know their luck. I provide them with a reading. Then, sometime in the near future, they encounter a bit of misfortune. From a certain perspective, my fortune-telling is completely accurate."  

Joey responded with absolute confidence, as if he had done nothing wrong.  

From his reaction, it was clear that this wasn’t the first time he had pulled such a trick.  

"Enough," Amanda interrupted, unimpressed. She fixed her sharp gaze on the fortune teller before her, speaking slowly and deliberately.  

"Now, tell me your real purpose, Joey. No vague nonsense about predicting the future—I want the truth."  

"…"  

Joey met Amanda's eyes and, for once, shut his mouth. After a brief silence, he sighed.  

"Fine. Though I don’t believe I’ve been dishonest."  

He glanced around before continuing.  

"But since you’re asking me like this, I assume you've already been to the bar."  

"The bar?!"  

Amanda’s expression shifted immediately at the mention of it.  

"You know about the bar?"  

She had assumed that, as a place tied to a demon, the bar would be shrouded in secrecy.  

But now, it seemed that wasn’t the case.  

"No, I don’t. But I have seen it—in a divined future."  

Joey shook his head, clarifying, before going on.  

"And I know that you discovered the location of the upcoming catastrophe there—the very event that marks the beginning of it all."  

Amanda couldn’t help but glance back at Spike.  

Back at the bar, Saigon had mentioned Haiti as the place where the demon hunter’s target could be found.  

And now, according to Joey, the team would indeed travel to Haiti, where they would face the massive disaster foretold in prophecy.  

"If you saw the future, why didn’t you try to stop us from going to the bar?"  

Amanda took a deep breath, pushing down the shock of seeing such a vivid glimpse of the future.  

She stared at Joey, demanding an answer.  

Had he tried to stop them, they might never have obtained the lead from Saigon. Without it, BSI would never have been involved in Haiti’s events, and the future might have changed entirely.  

(End of Chapter) 

Chapter 335: Entering the Country  

"The future will inevitably come to pass." 

Shaking his head, the fortune-teller Joey clearly saw through Amanda’s thoughts. 

"Even if it wasn’t at the bar, you would have inevitably learned about the location by some unintended coincidence and gone there to take part..." 

Come on, even the script’s designer himself has appeared in person, playing the role of the prophet to control the narrative. 

There’s no way he would allow any other outcome. 

In front of the system panel, Allen shook his head at Amanda’s ‘naive’ thinking. 

Meanwhile, Joey the fortune-teller continued speaking: 

"Besides, do you really think my presence alone could stop you from going to the bar?" 

"…" 

Hearing Joey’s response, Amanda fell silent. 

Indeed, just as he said, if they hadn’t experienced what happened at the bar, there would be no proof that Joey truly had the power of divination. 

A mere casual warning wouldn’t have stopped Amanda from going to the bar. 

In a way, Amanda and Spike witnessing the confrontation between the Syndicate and the demon hunters at the bar was a destined future. 

Joey probably knew this all along and didn’t bother trying to stop it. 

Before she even realized it, Amanda had begun to firmly believe in the future that the fortune-teller spoke of. 

"So, what’s your real goal, Joey?" 

"Don’t tell me you showed up at BSI just to tell us about things that are bound to happen." 

She reached out, grabbing the [Voodoo Doll] that had launched an assault on the crystal ball from the table and placed it back on her shoulder. 

Joey looked at Amanda and the rest of the team, his gaze lingering briefly on Spike before he spoke again: 

"Although the future will inevitably come to pass, the method and timing are not set in stone. That’s why I need your help—to change when the future unfolds." 

"If the future is truly as inevitable as you say, then it seems we have no reason to refuse." 

Without hesitation, Amanda agreed to the fortune-teller’s request. 

Haiti, America’s Neighbor  

Yet, it’s one of the most underdeveloped countries in the world, with an economy largely based on agriculture and severely lacking in infrastructure. 

Due to a shortage of energy resources, Haiti’s industrial sector is extremely underdeveloped, and the unemployment rate is high—two-thirds of its workforce doesn’t have stable employment. 

Meanwhile, the United States, the most powerful country in the world, has an economically stagnant neighbor right next door. 

Year after year, Haiti remains among the poorest countries on Earth—a fact that, in some ways, feels like a cruel irony. 

Or perhaps, behind this poverty, the shadow of the United States looms. 

After all, compared to the challenges and consequences that arise when neighboring nations prosper, having an impoverished neighbor stuck in an endless cycle of poverty seems to align more closely with U.S. strategic interests. It allows the superpower to focus its attention on the rest of the world without worrying about nearby borders. 

"What’s your reason for coming to Haiti, American?"  

At the airport’s customs checkpoint, the border officer eyed the passport in his hand, then looked up at the BSI team member in front of him with suspicion. 

"Tourism," Spike replied with a smile, dressed casually with a hat on his head. 

Flipping to the next page of the passport and seeing a neatly tucked Benjamin Franklin (a $100 bill), the officer’s previously stern expression relaxed. 

Pocketing the bill, the officer flashed a toothy grin: 

"Enjoy your trip." 

With a final stamp on the passport, the officer waved him through. 

"Thanks," Spike replied, taking his passport back. 

"Why couldn’t we just come to Haiti officially through the federal government? Why did we have to pretend to be tourists for this investigation?"  

Once they got past the checkpoint, Agent Phil carefully tucked away his passport and glanced at Angela, who was still stuck at the customs counter, unable to hold back his frustration. 

The U.S., as Haiti’s biggest aid provider, holds considerable sway over the local government. BSI could’ve easily used official channels for the investigation, saving them the trouble of catching connecting flights and wasting precious time. 

Though the U.S. often gets criticized for its infrastructure—sometimes even compared to a third-world country—Phil realized upon arriving in Haiti what a true third-world nation looks like. The infrastructure here was even worse. 

"My phone’s got no signal," Phil muttered, pulling out his phone and noticing even the last bar had disappeared. 

"Mine had one bar left—never mind, it’s gone now," another agent said while checking his own phone. 

At that moment, Joey, who had passed through customs with Amanda, spoke up after hearing their complaints: 

"Because the people we’re dealing with this time are tied to the Voodoo religion." 

"The current Haitian president has deep ties to the Voodoo faith. If we informed the local government through federal channels, it might alert the Voodoo followers. Their influence here is enormous, far beyond what we imagined. To avoid tipping them off, we have to bypass the local government entirely." 

There’s a saying in Haiti: "Eighty percent of Haitians are Catholic, but one hundred percent follow Voodoo."  

This alone shows how deeply Voodoo is rooted in Haitian culture. 

"Wait, why isn’t Angela out yet?"  

As the team waited, they began to notice Angela still hadn’t emerged from customs. 

"Looks like something’s up," Agent Zhou remarked, walking over to investigate. 

The customs officers clearly weren’t too welcoming and exchanged some harsh words with Zhou when he tried to intervene. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, Zhou returned with a grim look. 

"There’s a problem. They want to search Angela—claiming she brought contraband into the country." 

"That’s impossible! They’re clearly just hassling her!" Phil snapped. 

As teammates, they knew Angela would never carry anything illegal. 

It was obvious the Haitian customs officers were using this as an excuse to extort more money. 

They hadn’t even fully entered the country, and trouble had already found them—a complication Amanda hadn’t anticipated.  

(End of Chapter)