Exorcist of the American Nightmares

York raised his eyebrows, looking at them.

"Do you think God takes a shit?" the bald young man asked with a mocking face, loudly.

"Ha ha ha ha ha." His companions burst into laughter, a very irritating sound.

Clearly, these young men were seeking their own amusement. York was unfazed, but his lips curled slightly.

He felt these young men would suffer if they continued their arrogance. Unlike the peaceful Earth of his previous life, this parallel world was home to gods and demons. He wasn't sure about the existence of God, but he knew holy water and prayers were effective, even though he wasn't a true believer.

Moreover, the strongest proof was that the demons and evil spirits he had exorcised had cursed God.

What did this imply? God might indeed exist.

These young men dared to mock, inevitably attracting unwanted attention. As the saying goes, disaster comes from the mouth.

Thinking this, York stopped, made the sign of the cross towards these fools: "May God remember you!"

"Ha ha ha ha ha, this foolish priest."

"Is he blessing us? Ha ha ha, I'm dying of laughter."

...

The young men's arrogance intensified.

York looked at them with pity, nodded, and without paying more attention to these future wretches, continued on his way.

Then, a white-haired old man suddenly appeared from a nearby building, slowly approaching.

"Father York, hello."

"Hello, Mr. Brown." York nodded.

"Going to the hospital?"

He knew this old man, who often came to his church to pray for his seriously ill wife. He had served in the military, a naval officer, now retired.

"Yes, Father York." Old Brown, huddling his shoulders, glanced at the overly arrogant young men.

"You don't have to mind them; they're a bunch of scum not worth saving."

"Uh-huh." York nodded with a smile.

"Amen." Old Brown made the sign of the cross like a true believer.

York responded, "The Lord will bless you and Mrs. Judith."

"Thank you." Old Brown smiled warmly.

York nodded, passed by Mr. Brown, and headed towards the Boston community where the old woman lived.

After a minor incident, York finally reached his destination, a typical eagle-style house with a lawn and a backyard.

The security in the Boston community was somewhat better than in Mr. Brown's area, with some patrol officers frequently visiting, devoid of troublesome youths, representing a middle-class community.

Mrs. Mozang and her husband, Mr. Sandy, were already waiting at the door.

"Father York!"

York ignored their anxious expressions, first opened his backpack, and took out a willow branch soaked in holy water.

"No rush, let me protect you first."

The couple was stunned, not understanding but nodded subconsciously.

York took this opportunity to sprinkle the holy water remaining on the willow branch onto the couple.

"No smoke, no smell, and no change in expression."

York observed carefully before letting down his guard.

Demons and evil spirits were truly dangerous; he had no choice but to act this way, given the repulsive nature of possession. He had protection, but others did not.

"I've given you a layer of protection, so you won't be possessed by evil spirits," York explained, then took out two crosses.

"Wear these, and you can follow me inside, for the Lord will protect you."

He made it a habit to let relatives observe the exorcism process, assuring them since the possessed person was unconscious and unaware.

In this parallel world, he had heard of some distasteful acts by his peers, as he had in his previous life.

"Thank you! Father York." Mrs. Mozang gratefully accepted, hurriedly wearing one herself and helping Mr. Sandy.

York nodded indifferently, "Take me to Sarah."

"Alright." The old woman took a deep breath and led the way.

Before following, York scanned the house.

The overall atmosphere was not too bad, not as dark and oppressive as in previous exorcisms he had conducted.

York glanced around and followed the couple upstairs, where he immediately smelled a familiar scent, like that of volcanic lava, very pungent and suffocating.

This was the scent of hell, clearly indicating a demon's presence.

York wrinkled his nose as he looked towards the room at the end of the hallway, where a slightly tilted cross hung on the door.

"Mrs. Mozang, did you hang the cross upright?"

The tilt of the cross could indicate the demon's prowess; the degree of tilt represented the demon's strength. If it were turned completely, York might have been somewhat apprehensive.

"Yes... yes." The old woman, now a bit frightened, stayed close to her husband, Mr. Sandy.

Hearing this, York's eyes narrowed slightly, and he stepped past them to the door.

As he approached, the atmosphere grew colder, almost as if his senses were blocked, with no sound, as if even the noise from outside had disappeared.

"Key." York said softly.

Mrs. Mozang hurriedly handed over the key.

York took it and opened the door.

Before the door was fully opened, a thick, man-like voice sounded from inside.

"Hee hee hee hee!"

When the door was fully open, York saw Sarah, exactly as he remembered, bound tightly to the bed.

Her body was as thin as a drug addict's skeleton, her lips bloodless, and her eye sockets deeply shadowed, staring as if locking onto prey, chilling to the bone.

"What is this smell I detect? Damn, it's foul!"

"Dear mommy, did you bring that damned, stinking priest here to kill me? Hee hee!" At this moment, Sarah's voice switched back to her original tone.

"Sarah, I..." Mrs. Mozang stuttered at the door.

"Shh! Let me handle everything. Don't speak, don't pay attention if you want to save your daughter."

Mrs. Mozang was cut off by York just as she started to speak.

Mr. Sandy, more understanding, held her hand, shaking his head.

York glanced at him; such a calm family member was rare.

The old man just nodded, meaning he could proceed as he wished.

York smiled back, set down his backpack, and began to gather his tools.

Seeing this, Sarah raised her head and howled, "Old man! You've always wanted to kill me, haven't you? I'm your daughter!"

Mr. Sandy pressed his lips together, silent, holding his wife's hand tightly.

The next second, Sarah, looking like a ghastly figure, suddenly switched again, struggling violently to the point where the bed moved slightly.

"Hee hee hee hee!!! This damned, stinking priest can't save your daughter,"

"My parents, you have no hope!"

Sarah alternated between states, like a madwoman possessed.