Chapter 35: Reinforcement, Gaslighting, and a Phone Call

Louis’s expression was peculiar. In Western legends, witches are mostly portrayed as women; although male witches exist, their presence is not as prominent. Yet he had just managed to master the brewing of a certain witch’s potion, which, when rounded up, practically made him a bona fide male witch.

Shaking his head with a wry smile, Louis composed himself and turned his attention to the potion. He carefully took out a test tube and cautiously filled it. Soon, three vials of pale red potion were freshly prepared. Though there were three vials, together they constituted a single dose.

This potion was not some ancient concoction from the Middle Ages but rather a modern elixir created around the eighteenth century by the ancestors of Emilia’s tribe, who had incorporated some alchemical techniques. It lacked the dramatic effects of mythical potions that might transform one into a werewolf instantly.

Instead, it was relatively mild, with a slower onset of effects.

Staring at the three vials, Louis did not rush to drink but closed his eyes to pray, seeking his godfather’s guidance on whether the potion was safe.

Within just a few seconds of closing his eyes, a clear understanding rose in his heart: the potion was safe to drink.

“Having a divine patron is indeed reassuring.”

In truth, this was already connected to a special ancient practice—planchette writing.

Planchette writing has a long history, rooted in ancient shamanistic traditions. Its purpose was to solicit guidance from the heavens and gods, helping tribes avoid calamities, and granting shamans power, knowledge, or even divine possession.

However, as worldly changes unfolded and celestial laws were renewed, a rule emerged forbidding true gods from possessing humans.

Thus, planchette writing gradually fell from its orthodox status to become a remnant of folk witchcraft, diminishing over time. Nevertheless, some folk deities still upheld this tradition, which many practitioners of fringe arts later adapted for darker purposes. The commonly known spirit writing with pens or through Ouija boards are inferior applications of this craft.

The technique was far from simple; it involved various trials and was quite challenging. The reason Louis could receive guidance so effortlessly was because of a special bond.

Gazing at the three vials, Louis tilted his head back and downed one. Since there was no harm, he decided to begin his transformation now.

“This taste… it’s a bit like Guangdong herbal tea. Strange.”

No sooner had he spoken than Louis, as if drunk on rice wine, swayed and collapsed onto the bed, slipping into a deep sleep.

At this moment, subtle changes began to occur in his body—muscles trembling slightly on their own, strengthening, contracting, then strengthening further...

Within his dreams, Louis vaguely saw a figure glowing with golden light. Yet, as if restrained by some unseen force or his own lack of strength, he could not discern the figure’s exact form.

When he tried desperately to see clearly, the white light grew brighter until it was blinding.

Later, Louis, gazing out at the blazing midday sun streaming through the window, realized it was already noon. He moved his body, sensing carefully.

“This potion packs a punch. My body feels fine, just unusually refreshed. Seems it really works slowly.”

“But that dream just now… was it my godfather?”

After pondering for a while, still uncertain, Louis decided to go downstairs for something to eat.

Upon descending, he spotted Emma sneaking around suspiciously, seemingly slipping something into Yurenka’s water cup.

“What?”

“Cough, cough.”

Emma startled, scattering powder across the table. She quickly hid her hands behind her back and nervously looked at Louis.

“Louis, good… good afternoon.”

“What are you doing?”

“Well…”

Under Louis’s intense gaze, Emma obediently revealed what she was holding and confessed.

She intended to slip laxatives into Yurenka’s drink, hoping to embarrass her during class. That way, Yurenka wouldn’t just lose her leadership position but might even be bullied—effectively crippling her most skilled tactic at its root.

Besides, it wasn’t lethal and didn’t violate Louis’s personal bottom line. Even if things went awry, Yurenka wouldn’t suffer any serious harm.

One had to admit, Emma’s cleverness was growing sharper and more cunning.

Most importantly, she had learned to gauge Louis’s intentions.

Louis surveyed Emma up and down, making her feel somewhat uneasy.

“Emma, you’re not honest!

Do you think Yurenka won’t know it was you afterward? She’ll be furious and likely retaliate harshly. If you fight back reasonably and accidentally hurt her, what will I say then?”

Step by step, Louis approached Emma. Seeing her trembling, he exhaled deeply. Suddenly, a fiery serpent appeared in the air, weaving and dancing with lively energy.

The intense heat surged over Emma’s body; she even felt a faint burning sensation on her fingertips. Her body shook, but she struggled to control herself, fearful of touching the fiery snake.

Sweat trickled from her temples into her eyes, causing dryness, stinging pain, and distress. She desperately wanted to cry.

Then, in the next moment, the flames vanished.

A glass of water was handed to her—it was Louis.

Unable to hold back, Emma burst into tears.

“Why do you always bully me?

You bully me, you bully me, you bully me! Why don’t you bully Yurenka instead...”

Louis raised an eyebrow.

“Sigh, Emma, you don’t understand.

Yurenka came later; what is she to you? You’re different. We’re accomplices, walking this path together. You’ve done so many things lately—think carefully. Am I really harming you?”

“I’m saving you!”

“The times are changing. Technology is advancing, and order is tightening. Someone like you, who kills recklessly without adapting to the rules, do you know what fate awaits you?”

“You don’t think you’ll always be a child immune to suspicion, do you? In the end, you’ll be hunted.”

“Do you want to hide in some remote corner for the rest of your life?”

“No new clothes, no good food, worrying about survival every day, neither fully alive nor dead in some dark place. If you get caught, after ruthlessly harming so many people, you’ll be sent to the electric chair or chemically euthanized.”

“Or perhaps lifelong imprisonment, growing old and lonely in a cell, tortured into a drooling madman.”

“You don’t want that, do you?”

With a wave of his hand, fine powder sprinkled between his fingers. As Louis spoke, vivid images appeared before Emma’s eyes, illustrating his warnings.

“That’s why I correct you, intimidate you, and educate you—it’s all to save you! For your own good!”

“...Is... is that so...?”

Emma’s eyes were hazy, her emotions tangled and confused.

After a moment of silence,

“I understand. I’ll behave from now on. But what if others provoke me?”

“What do you think?”

Louis smiled, producing a small knife from nowhere, twirling it deftly between his fingers, its cold gleam sharp and menacing.

Emma smiled faintly in return.

---

Since that day’s intense conversation with Emma, she had made some fundamental changes.

After briefly disciplining Yurenka, Louis resumed practicing concealment arts. This technique was relatively simple, and he had reached the beginner’s level—able to minimize footprints and better blend his figure into surroundings.

With enough depth, he could even hide his soul, making himself undetectable even to spirits and monsters.

Of course, this required time, resources, and a willingness to walk the unconventional path.

Just then, the phone rang. Louis assumed it was the arrival of the dog breeds he had ordered—it was about time.

Pitbulls, Rottweilers, Border Collies, German Shepherds, Chinese Crested Dogs…

Yet when he answered, a young girl’s voice came through.

“Hi, is this Louis?”