I didn't know how Wu Ling and the others had managed it.
Whether it was the notebook in the plastic bag, with its antique feel, the holy quill, or the blood that gave off such an eerie feeling, they all seemed like they'd had special effects added.
These weren't special effects added to a movie scene. They were real props.
I was a little amazed and couldn't help falling silent.
The Thin Man and the Fatty, meanwhile, let out a string of meaningless "ahs," unable to tear their eyes away from the items.
"How did you get these?" the Thin Man asked curiously. "Why would those foreigners be willing to give them to you?"
Gu Mo gave a snort and didn't answer.
Wu Ling said, "They don't need them. No demons have been discovered in the West for many years. Besides, I agreed to some conditions."
Wu Ling didn't elaborate, and the Thin Man didn't press her.
I took out the notebook and found that it looked somewhat like the one the demon had carried. The cover bore bright red writing in a foreign language I didn't recognize. I couldn't even tell what language it was.
The paper had been aged, though it might have been an antique to begin with, and Wu Ling had simply added the writing.
When I opened it, I saw densely packed records, written in the same incomprehensible script.
"So these are the demons' names?" the Thin Man asked, leaning over.
I handed him the notebook.
The Thin Man took it carefully, without much thought, and examined it for a while. "I've never seen this kind of writing... Or maybe I have... Tsk—I can't remember. All that black magic stuff is just a bunch of squiggles."
Wu Ling pointed to the capital letters at the