Demon Hunter and His Cabin
Chapter 270 - Chapter 270 Chapter 270 Assembly

Chapter 270: Chapter 270: Assembly Chapter 270: Chapter 270: Assembly Full Moon Night.

Roger, carrying a black briefcase, drove to the villa district in the heart of Bordeaux.

“Welcome, my friend.”

Upon seeing Roger’s hair dyed silver, Dickinson was slightly startled.

“To be honest, this hair color suits you quite well.”

“Come with me, the ritual is about to begin.”

Dickinson seemed much bigger than usual, his gray suit stretched taut, making him appear not as cold as usual, but rather exuding an air of savage aggressiveness.

“Once the ritual begins, we will need to address each other by code names.”

Entering an empty room.

There were no decorations in the room, just a table made of natural wood and two ordinary chairs.

An Array had already been drawn on the table in advance.

Dickinson took out an odd mask covered with countless spiral patterns, each twist seeming to burrow into the face of the wearer along its grooves.

The mass of large and small swirling patterns was unsettling.

“You may call me Soul Devourer.”

“Choose a name for yourself.”

“Click.”

Roger opened his black briefcase and took out a uniquely designed wolf head mask.

“White Wolf.”

Dickinson sized up the mask, a flicker of contemplation in his eyes; in truth, for them, it was often more than just a code name.

“A fitting name.”

Roger said nothing but put on the wolf head mask, focusing his concentration; the mask’s eye holes revealed a pair of yellow, vertical pupils.

His aura at that moment was peculiar, restrained yet with a hint of ferocity, like a wolf with rationality.

Together with the yellow vertical pupils, the entire wolf’s head seemed to come alive.

“These are the preparation materials for the communication ritual and the method for drafting the Array.”

“Included are also some tricks to conceal the fluctuation of abnormal souls–your spiritual power seems very strong, so you should be able to master it quickly.”

Roger opened the booklet in his hand and flipped through it from beginning to end.

Roger was not worried about the items Dickinson had given him; if they were truly safe and effective, the Hunter’s Cabin would naturally generate the corresponding books once he read through them.

There might even be the potential for tailored improvements.

“The time is almost up; let’s begin.”

Dickinson came to the front of the table and lit the seven candles at the corners of the Array; the white candles burned with an orange flame, issuing a popping sound.

“The candles are made with Ghoul oil mixed with Blue Mist flower stems; they will help us find our way.”

He picked up a bag of white powder, sprinkled it gently in mid-air, and waved his hands, reciting the Spell.

Soon the white powder started to settle evenly on the Array that had been drawn on the table, as if it had a life of its own.

As the candles burned, the white liquid flowed down, combining with the grooves of the Array and the powder.

By the time Dickinson’s Spell had come to an end, Roger sensed the powerful aura emanating from him.

He frowned; Dickinson’s strength exceeded his expectations.

Hiss!

The light of the candles seemed to be absorbed by the Array, and then the air in front of him appeared to be veiled in a light gauze, as several vague figures gradually became visible.

The air rippled like water, the traces expanding gradually, as if reaching into another space during the expansion.

Roger and Dickinson sat side by side; he noticed unfamiliar figures emerging on both his left and right sides.

A minute later, the scene stabilized, and several different “windows” combined to form a strange conference room.

He could see decorations fit for a royal court and a woman with a silver-white mask without a face, as well as darkness as gloomy as a cellar.

There was even bright sunshine and the sea waves outside the window.

This feeling was odd; if he were to make a comparison, it was as if Roger had simultaneously opened a group video chat online.

And it was with people from different parts of the world.

But the images between them were pieced together, lending a spectral air to the so-called gathering.

“Soul Devourer, it’s been a long time.”

The woman with the silver-white mask began, her voice crisp, echoing in the ear and reflecting in the heart.

She glanced at Roger, “Is this the newcomer you mentioned to us?”

Roger’s gaze sharpened slightly.

Dickinson had told him that this so-called gathering only convened during the Full Moon, yet it hadn’t been a full month since he had agreed with Dickinson.

A flicker of his peripheral vision swept over Dickinson, but with a mask on his face, Roger could not guess what Dickinson was thinking.

“Perhaps I’m overthinking it?”

Roger did not speak out, but he took mental note of it quietly.

“Yes, a new friend.”

Dickinson nodded.

“You can call him White Wolf.”

“I like that name, and your hair,” said the woman, looking at Roger but showing no intention of introducing herself.

Scanning the room, Dickinson asked, “Where’s that big bat?”

“You mean Duke?”

A cold voice came through, “There was a disturbance in a small town in Faku, and if I’m not mistaken, it was that guy who caused it.”

“But he was unlucky and ran into the Royal Knight Order.”

“Dead.”

“Wow…” someone laughed eerily.

As clear as if you were there on the scene.”

“Of course.”

Once again the cold voice spoke, its owner completely enshrouded in a black robe, revealing only a mask carved from blue stone.

It seemed that in addition to the method Dickinson mentioned, there were other materials that could also protect one from prying eyes.

“I was there, and I saw Duke get killed by the Knights.”

“And then?”

“Then I killed them,” the man in the black robe answered coldly, then coughed lightly, clearly indicating his victory had not been easy.

“I need some spinal fluid from a demonic bull monster.”

He stated.

“If anyone is willing to provide it, I can give them a little trinket.”

Dry hands extended from beneath the robe, holding a pitch-black feathered arrow.

“You’re really quite generous.”

Roger sat quietly in his chair, listening intently to the exchanges among them, sometimes even a hint of unintentionally revealed information would cause a subtle change in his expression.

The power these individuals displayed was much stronger than his; according to Roger’s estimate, even the weakest among them possessed at least Full Moon Peak strength.

Roger shifted slightly and glanced at Dickinson beside him.

In the Bordeaux region, Dickinson was considered strong, and from the aura he had previously displayed, he seemed to be close to New Moon Peak.

However…

Such strength was far inferior to that of the people in front of him.

The farther one traveled in the Transcendent World, the more difficult the journey became; a gap of one level could well be the difference between heaven and earth.

“What qualifies him to sit on an equal footing with these people?”

“Or rather… does Dickinson represent not himself, but someone behind him?”

“Perhaps… Abraham?”

Pupils constricting, Roger felt as if he had caught onto something.

Just then, a voice rose from within him.

“Young man, what are you thinking about?”