Exorcist in America

Listening to the elderly woman casually describe what they truly desired, Bishop York found himself sinking deeper into silence.

He had thought they might have some unique reason or sought something beyond wealth and power, such as creating a true martyr.

But now, that theory seemed laughable.

Indeed, York felt foolish, for he had overestimated their humanity.

This vile experiment had lasted seventeen years, encompassing infants, children, teenagers, adults, middle-aged, and elderly people across all life stages. They didn't care how many people they harmed or how many families they destroyed. These so-called elites merely wanted to know what humans see at the brink of death—what the true world is beyond.

It was that simple, nothing more.

After uncovering the truth, a profound disgust began to settle in York's heart, a nauseating feeling that lingered.

York's eyes grew colder as he realized if he hadn't intervened, these atrocities might never have come to light. No one would have known the true reason behind the many disappearances or the cruel facts hidden behind them. No one.

Because, as the elderly woman had said, they controlled wealth and power, standing at the pinnacle, looking down on everyone else. Even the laws meant to protect the people were dictated by them. Even the media outlets that could expose the truth were owned by their families...

In other words, if it weren't for him, these elderly individuals could continue to revel in their wealth and power, living above others, and then pass away peacefully with the blessings of their descendants.

This was one of the reasons York found the situation so repulsive.

He could imagine the currents swirling in the outside world without needing to see them.

Indeed, that was exactly what was happening.

When York struck these people with his thunderous judgment, the whole world was stirred. Almost every bishop across various dioceses received related calls, and even old Mike hiding in a Max Convenience Store wasn't spared.

After learning about the incident, old Mike remained silent. Even though there were cries for help in the background, he did not respond until he finally spoke.

"My influence isn't as great as you think, Jacob. From what I know of York, once he decides to do something, no matter the difficulty, he will see it through."

After saying this, old Mike, in a quiet moment on the phone, watching the busy Hilly at work, sighed.

"Even if there's death ahead, he will step forward. That's York, our future pope, Jacob."

These words reached a study room, to a middle-aged man massaging his temples.

He put down his glasses, silent.

"I understand, Mr. Mike."

"Hm," old Mike said calmly. "Accept the facts, accept the consequences of wrongdoing, no matter that he is your father.

Jacob, I'm telling you, don't even think about doing anything, or I won't be able to save you either."

After delivering his warning, old Mike shook his head, unable to believe such repulsive things still happened under the sun. Knowing the nature of these atrocities, he was ready to support York wholeheartedly.

"Thank you for the warning, Mr. Mike. Don't worry, I won't do anything."

Hearing this, old Mike hung up the so-called distress call.

He wasn't about to touch anything that might upset York over this issue.

Looking at the phone receiver, he pondered for a moment before putting it back.

He didn't believe Jacob had the guts to oppose the church.

"What phone call was that, dad?" Hilly's curious voice came from the other end.

Old Mike looked up at his son and chuckled internally.

His son probably had no idea what his bishop had done, still engrossed in his work.

"Nothing serious, just someone asking me a few questions." Old Mike shook his head and moved on.

"Let's continue."

Hilly blinked, feeling like he had missed something but was completely clueless, merely responding with an "Oh."

---

Meanwhile, at the New York Cathedral.

Bishop Romulo, who had just lain down to rest, also received such a call.

His response wasn't as firm as old Mike's.

But he didn't agree with the caller either, simply looking forward into space and speaking calmly.

"Julianna, you ask if Bishop York can represent the stance of the church?

I have only one answer."

On the other side of the phone was an elderly woman in her seventies or eighties, sitting in her room, silent.

But the phone conveyed a very firm voice.

"Bishop York can represent the entire church because he is our next leader."

The elderly woman pursed her lips and said calmly: "I understand, Bishop Romulo."

Just after she spoke, the phone rang with the tone of a disconnect.

The elderly woman exhaled softly, placing the phone beside her bed, looking into the void as if waiting for something.

The scope of this issue was so broad, involving not

 just these two people, but similar scenarios were unfolding everywhere.

But obviously, none of these events, or whatever turmoil was occurring in the outside world at this moment, could affect the progress at Ashby Church.

---

The candlelit church cast a serene glow, reflecting the image of Jesus and also illuminating two figures seated on opposite benches.

Elderly woman Georgina opened an old notebook, stopping at a newspaper photograph, its edges yellowed and faded from frequent handling.

"Bishop York, I don't know if you have seen the real world after death, but I think these people have seen it."

York did not respond, but Georgina did not stop. She caressed the newspaper photo and continued.

"I call those who failed 'defects' and 'sacrifices,' and those who succeeded 'martyrs,' because I believe they have seen the real world after death. 

These people are exceptions. After enduring suffering and exploitation, and having evil heaped upon them, they ultimately transcended everything and saw the truth.

Do you know that martyrs can change forms? Bishop York, please look, this is what I have collected..."

The elderly woman looked towards the silently sitting bishop, offering the notebook in her hand.

However, York did not accept it.

But he had already seen the so-called newspaper photos through holographic imaging.

It was of a woman, emaciated to the bone, limbs severed and tied to a stick, her chest cavity opened, yet she was not dead.

The elderly woman persisted for a while, but as her arms began to tremble, she had to give up and took the notebook back, continuing to caress the newspaper photo as she introduced.

"Long Xuan, 1912, she did not believe in God, stole children, and paid a terrible price. When this photo was taken, she was still alive, her eyes revealing she had seen the real world."

Like introducing the purpose of her mission, or like introducing the mission of her organization or saints, Georgina continued to turn the page, looking at another photo, continuing to explain.

"Joan Thérèse, 1945, she sold food and slept with Germans. At that time, the French were very sensitive, so she was guilty. After being tortured and abused, this photo was taken, she was still alive, her eyes just like Long Xuan's, so beautiful."

"… Birmingham Central Hospital, 1960, this is a backgroundless, faithless maid, she was in extraordinary pain at the end stage of a terminal illness, morphine had no effect, look at her eyes…"

"This one was beaten by her husband,

This one survived nine hours in a car wreck,

This one, a young leukemia patient, the disease eating away at her bones,

This one suffered from a rare disease, struggling for seven hours,"

"…"

The elderly woman finished in one breath, flipping to the last page, her hand stopping.

"All of them, their eyes exactly the same, they are all great beings. Can you imagine what death is like?"

Hearing this, York finally turned to look at the elderly woman.

"Are you done?"

Georgina looked at the expressionless bishop and unexpectedly smiled, calmly saying.

"Yes, Bishop York, I have finished."

York looked at the elderly woman's smiling expression, unmoved.

"Aren't you curious about the real world after death?"

With that, Georgina's breath suddenly intensified a bit, staring at the powerful bishop with some anticipation.

"Respected bishop, could it be that you have a way?"

"Of course, I have a way." York said indifferently.

"Haven't you seen my exorcism videos? You should know I'm not an ordinary person. Actually, you could have come to ask me…"

The next second, York snapped his fingers.

Georgina felt as if someone had slapped her forehead, an irresistible force causing her to suddenly recline.

Then a sensation of emptiness enveloped her.

Her eyes widened as the church environment slowly faded, leaving nothing but boundless darkness.

It was as if she was the only person in the world, alone, without any sensation, emotion, or senses.

No up or down, no flow or pain, no light, sound, or temperature.

Yet she knew her consciousness still existed, persisting into eternity.

Lost in oblivion, Georgina had no sense of how long it had been.

"Is the truth after death emptiness…" She subconsciously spoke the word.

At that moment, a point of light appeared.

An ethereal voice began to echo.

"Yes, this is the real world you will enter after death."

The voice became clearer, and Georgina found herself back in the environment, but she just stared at her aged hands in shock.

Something in her mind felt as if it had shattered.

"Go back," York looked at the elderly woman, no longer filled with anticipation, and made the sign of the cross on his chest, turning back to the

___________________

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