Chapter 111: Voodoo Doll

"Main quest: Investigate the secrets hidden in this village. Return to the surface world in two days."

The triggered quest had finally arrived.

"There must be a colossal secret hidden in this village."

In any case, a multi-billionaire bringing three supermodel-level beauties to an indigenous African tribe simply did not make sense—what was the motive? The official reason was a vacation combined with a photoshoot.

When they arrived, they had transported a significant amount of food, clothing, and equipment by plane. Even in an indigenous tribe, their standard of living would not be low. Furthermore, the tribe was located on an island with a pleasant climate and beautiful scenery. But this was not a reason for the sole male heir—no, practically the helmsman—of a major family to travel to such a dangerous region.

"It defies logic."

As for Yan Luo’s earlier encounter—why he had been lying in a coffin, buried in a grave...

The three women seemed completely unaware of the incident. They did not know about his death, nor that he had been buried in the graveyard outside the tribe. Yan Luo asked with suspicion, "Jessica, I recall that when you saw me, the words that slipped out were—'Jerry, you’re not dead?'"

"I said, 'Jerry, you’re okay,' not 'Jerry, you’re not dead.' As your favorite sister—and the one who loves you most—how could I ever curse you to die? If those old fogies in the family found out, I’d be in big trouble," Jessica said, looking somewhat distressed.

Her expression was a mix of helplessness and grievance.

"You consumed some herbs with stimulant effects yesterday, tripped, and passed out. We had you taken to the tribal elder for treatment," said Catherine, his fiancée, a tall woman with wheat-colored skin.

"Your current amnesia is likely a concussion. Sigh... I hope you recover soon. I am absolutely sick of this desolate, remote place. Thank goodness we can go back in two days," Brenda, his ex-girlfriend, sighed. She picked up the bottle of 1982 Lafite from the table, poured herself a glass, and parted her alluring red lips to drain it in one gulp.

Yan Luo’s suspicions deepened. Jessica had not been speaking Chinese; the pronunciations for "you’re okay" and "you’re not dead" were different. Yet, judging by their expressions, the other two women did not seem to think Jessica was lying.

Using the excuse of his amnesia and a desire to be alone to collect his thoughts, he dismissed the three women. All three of them carried firearms.

This heir to a great family, "Jerry," was no fool; he had brought a whole trunk of weapons. From pistols to rifles, from a Thompson to a 98K, it had everything—enough to start a game of PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds.

Of course, the theme of this world was supernatural, not war or slaughter.

The island was home only to an indigenous tribe; there were no hordes of people looking to kill you the moment they saw you.

After the three women left, Yan Luo began to take stock of his possessions—the items brought by this body, Jerry. He filtered out anything without value. Yan Luo found a combination lockbox.

Since he had only taken over Jerry's identity and lacked his memories, Yan Luo did not know the password. He thought for a moment and decided to decode it himself. He picked up the passport and first tried the date of birth—wrong. Then, he tried the birth date from his sister's passport—also wrong.

"As expected, the password wouldn't be that simple."

"What about reversing the date?"

Yan Luo tried it, but it was incorrect.

He was not in a hurry and continued to analyze the code. The box did not have a setting that would lock it or trigger self-destruction after too many failed attempts. He experimented with different theories dozens of times. When Yan Luo entered the digits "1382237," the box finally clicked open.

The owner of this body was a rich kid, not a spy; he hadn't created a password that was too difficult to crack.

The numbers corresponded to the name Jessica, not based on the order of the 26 letters of the alphabet, but on a keyboard. The letter 'J' is the 7th key on the second row, 'E' is the 3rd key on the first row, 'S' is the 2nd key on the second row—ignoring rows and columns, just looking at the order of the letters, the resulting sequence was 7322831. Reversing the order gave the final code.

Of course, Yan Luo didn't crack it immediately; it took many attempts.

"So, what is in this box?"

Yan Luo poured himself a glass of 1982 Lafite. To be honest, for a poor person, this wine didn't taste as good as Sprite or a protein drink. He ate a few pieces of pudding and cheese to replenish the energy he had spent digging the tunnel the night before, then opened the box.

"A photographer, indeed!"

Inside the box, Yan Luo saw stacks of photos. They were not of his fiancée Catherine, nor of his ex-girlfriend Brenda; they were all of his sister, Jessica.

For a brother who cared deeply for his sister to collect photos of her from birth to age 20 was one thing, but some of these showed her in a bikini, or even in the bath. This was problematic.

"This guy really needs to see a specialist!"

Yan Luo finished looking at the photos, put them back, and looked at the other contents of the lockbox.

Dolls.

Unlike the crude straw dolls from the night before, these were wound with colorful threads, each unique and quite ornate. Some were quite cute. There were seven of them—each with a slip of paper next to it bearing a name.

They were: Little Devil, Vampire, Mummy, Fallen Angel, Stitch-monster, Phantom, and Destroyer.

"Are these... Voodoo dolls?"

As Yan Luo murmured the name thoughtfully, the system sent a prompt: "You have touched upon one of the secrets of this tribe. Please continue your investigation."

"Then again, boys generally aren't interested in dolls, right? Voodoo dolls seem like something young girls in love would believe in. To have several Voodoo dolls in a lockbox, and for them to be linked to this village... I’m afraid this Jerry has secrets of his own."

Just as Yan Luo was about to dismantle one of the dolls to see how it was made, someone came to notify him:

"The tribal elder wants to see you."

Closing the lockbox, Yan Luo followed the messenger to the largest house in the village. Upon entering the wooden hall, he met the tribe's elder.

He was an elderly black man with his face painted in colorful patterns, wearing a headdress made of vibrant feathers. His hunched, thin frame looked quite eerie. In his right hand, he clutched a black wooden staff, the head of which was embedded with a human skull—a complete skull stripped of all flesh! A grey, unremarkable little snake coiled within the eye sockets of the skull.

"Is this guy cosplaying Ouyang Feng?"

Regardless of status, appearance, or aura, this black elder was just a few words away from writing "I am a master" on his face. It was just unclear if this indigenous elder was as formidable as the "West Poison" Ouyang Feng.

Yan Luo looked again at the two corpses laid out in the hall.

The two black men from the graveyard yesterday—the tall one and the short one—the one who had been poisoned was already rotting, emitting a heavy stench of death.

"Bang!"

The black elder struck the ground heavily with his staff, and the little snake coiled in the skull hissed, flicking its tongue in synchronization.