Demon Hunter and His Cabin
Chapter 400 - Chapter 400 Chapter 400 Mural

Chapter 400: Chapter 400: Mural Chapter 400: Chapter 400: Mural No beasts, no monsters; the road to the ancient castle was quiet, and Roger could only see the ice crystals hanging on the trees around him, which faintly shimmered in the darkness like a demon with bared teeth and claws.

The road was rugged and uneven, and Roger’s shadow cast on the ground seemed to undergo a slight, mysterious transformation.

The distance from where he had gotten off to the ancient castle wasn’t far; by Roger’s estimation, he had walked for less than 10 minutes before he arrived at the frost-covered ancient structure.

Compared to the decrepit castle they had seen in reality, this one before him was more imposing, looking more like a military fortress.

Near the entrance of the castle, Roger saw a black horse tied to a withered tree. The horse was pitch black except for a ring of white around its hooves, which let out a loud neigh of alert upon seeing Roger.

The horse was fine, but the saddle was extremely worn, indicating that its owner may have once lived a wealthy life but had recently fallen into poverty.

The gates of the castle were wide open, and Roger stood in the shadows, listening carefully. He was not using his own body now, and the Dharma Seal had no place to be released.

In such a situation, being cautious was, after all, harmless.

Silence.

He could only hear his own steady breathing.

Only after taking in the surroundings did he slowly approach the open gate.

Unexpectedly, after entering the castle, the temperature rose sharply, as if an invisible barrier had turned the inside and outside of the gate into two different worlds.

A large silhouette was reflected on the wall; from Roger’s perspective, he could only see the silhouette bending over, seemingly frantically swallowing something.

“Crunch, crunch!”

“Gulp, gulp, gulp!”

It was a sound of hearty indulgence.

The floor underfoot seemed to be quite old; Roger tested it carefully until he was sure the floor could fully bear his weight before shifting his center of gravity forward.

As he passed by a set of knight’s armor in the corner, he casually replaced the longsword in the knight’s hand.

It was a standard weapon, yet in Roger’s hand, it felt somewhat heavy.

Just then, the silhouette reflected on the wall seemed to notice something. It suddenly stopped its movements and then stood up cautiously, as if scanning for something.

Roger took a deep breath. Standing on his tiptoes, after some time getting accustomed, his control over the body improved significantly, and the skills honed with rigorous training surfaced in his mind.

But before Roger could continue forward, a violent neighing of horses came from outside the castle, followed by the sounds of chaotic footsteps. A figure stumbled through the entrance.

“Help, someone help me!”

“What is this damned place?!”

Roger stepped aside to get a clear view of the stranger who barged in–a filthy burly man–but incongruous with his stature was the excessive panic on his face.

Footsteps came from the room; Roger also saw the person frantically eating by the dining table. It was not any terrifying monster but a middle-aged man with graying temples.

The three of them locked gazes.

The corner of Roger’s eye twitched as he noticed a strand of hair dangling from the middle-aged man’s mouth.

But the man seemed not to feel it at all, licking his bloodstained hands by his mouth and then casually wiping them clean on his filthy coat.

“Who are you?”

“Are you also travelers who fell into misfortune by chance?”

The middle-aged man squeezed out an amiable smile.

If only the pieces of flesh stuck between his teeth could be cleaned out.

“Come in quickly, there’s a table full of food inside!”

“Perhaps this is the kindly castle owner’s preparation for stranded travelers like us.”

“Sir, who are you?”

“Are you also here on a trip to Engelman?”

“My team and I entered an ancient castle, but not long after we went in, the ground suddenly collapsed and we tumbled down. When I came to my senses again, I found myself in this godforsaken place!”

“My God, it’s freezing outside. Have we been kidnapped?”

“Please let me go, I’m just an intern journalist and I don’t have much money.”

The Burly Man’s words were incoherent, and the middle-aged man beside him was naturally confused, but Roger’s pupils contracted–he hadn’t expected the man before him to also be one of the five in the team.

And it seemed his soul had also been transferred into a strange body.

Could this be what Edward and Stephen had experienced before?

The middle-aged man, thinking the Burly Man was just overly frightened, took him inside while talking and pulling, and then pointed to the lavish food on the table and said:

“Take a rest, have some good food. It’s so cold outside, you must be starving, right?”

In the flickering candlelight, the long table was filled with what was so-called food.

Roger needed only one glance to recognize most of the food’s origins on the table.

He saw the pale arm of a young girl, the thigh of a wild beast, and the rough foot of an adult male.

The viscous liquid in the cup gave off a foul stench, and an oval plate contained eyeballs streaked with blood.

Roger stood silently aside.

Neither the middle-aged man nor the Burly Man who appeared afterward seemed to distinguish them as anything unusual.

The frantic Burly Man wanted to refuse, but as soon as he approached the table, his stomach growled loudly, and then, as if possessed, he picked up an eyeball and swallowed it.

Watching the two of them enjoying their meal, Roger didn’t know how to warn them. He gripped the weapon in his hand and walked up the stairs.

Although the entire castle was warm, it was not very bright. The candle flames divided the place into different sections.

As he walked, Roger suddenly felt an intuition and spun around abruptly.

All was silent behind him, only the distant sound of swallowing could be heard. He turned back around and continued forward, yet after a moment, that eerie feeling of being watched struck again.

This time, Roger didn’t hesitate; he didn’t turn around immediately. Instead, with a flick of his wrist, the weapon passed under his arm, piercing out at an odd angle!

Thud!

The Sword Tip pierced something hard; Roger turned to look forward.

A painting hanging on the wall.

But the next second, a torrent of fresh blood surged from the point pierced by the weapon, staining the entire canvas red.

Rip!

The mottled canvas tore apart, revealing a young man with wide eyes, his forehead pierced by the Sword Tip. His mouth agape, there was no despair or fear on his face; his eyes even showed a hint of relief as they looked at Roger.

Then the young man’s body fell forward, tumbling straight out from the painted world, blood spilling on the stairs as his body rolled down.

Then another fell.

Under Roger’s astonished gaze, one body after another tumbled out of the narrow frame, as if their lives faded along with the torn canvas.

Twelve.

That was the number of bodies that had fallen from a single painting.

Behind the painting was a solid wall, and Roger couldn’t understand how it had contained twelve people.

And this number corresponded exactly to the number of figures previously depicted on the canvas.

A thought suddenly crossed his mind.

Stephen’s soul couldn’t be trapped in a painting like this, could it?

With that thought, he looked up, following the faint light above.

On the wall next to the staircase, paintings filled every available space.