Darkhold

Why did you suddenly change the subject...? Robbie frowned, in a terrible mood. "This has nothing to do with you."

His parents had died early. His uncle was his only family, the one who had raised both him and his brother. He could not forget that, nor did he dare to.

He had died once and made a deal with the devil. His brother's legs had been broken, and his uncle had gone to prison. Less than a month had brought three crushing blows in a row. Robbie felt it was already impressive that he had held on until now. Bringing this up was like rubbing salt in his wounds. You did that on purpose, didn't you?

I really did do it on purpose... Old Wang leaned against the hood and tapped the bodywork. "Your uncle worked at a place called the 'Power New Energy Laboratory.' There was an accident a few days ago. All your uncle's coworkers died except him, so he was charged with negligent homicide. Of course, some people thought he killed them deliberately, but there was no evidence. Am I wrong?"

Robbie said nothing. He simply stared at Old Wang, feeling even worse.

You're not just rubbing salt in the wound—you're carving it open with a knife. Do you think I don't feel pain?

Even someone who died once is afraid of pain!

Old Wang did not care and continued, "He was very smart. He was one of only ten college graduates from his high school, and the only one with a doctorate. He did steal petty things when he was young, but he had no record of violent crime. He worked hard, first supporting your mother, then supporting the two of you. You must have thought he was a good man, right?"

Robbie was silent for two seconds. "He was a good man!"

Old Wang smiled as he looked at the young man who had only just come of age. Being young is great. So easy to fool. "Good people and bad people aren't so easy to tell apart. Most of the time, you can't separate them at all. Robbie, do you know what the laboratory your uncle worked at actually did?"

Robbie frowned as fragments of memory flashed through his mind.

His uncle had pain in his heart, but he never spoke of it.

Recently, his uncle had become increasingly unhappy and withdrawn, with a terrible temper.

His uncle seemed deeply dissatisfied with his coworkers at the laboratory. Sometimes, he cursed them as stupid white pigs.

His uncle had been convicted of negligent homicide because improper operation had caused the accident. Yet his uncle had survived, and he had always taken that job so seriously. How could he possibly have made such a huge mistake?

Uncle... what exactly did you do?

"It was a special laboratory researching a secret project. Your uncle was actually just doing odd jobs—serving tea and water, making coffee, handling unimportant tasks. He could not access the core at all... Hmm, the real core."

Old Wang shrugged. "Don't look at me like that. Your uncle was a genius. Though many people said he plagiarized all his papers, anyone who could plagiarize his way to a doctorate was still a genius, wasn't he? But the others in the laboratory were even greater geniuses, especially the people in charge, Joseph and Lucy. The laboratory's real technology was in their hands, and that technology—as well as the book that brought it—was something your uncle desperately wanted."

A chill ran through Robbie's entire body.

He suddenly felt as though his illusions had shattered.

The uncle he had known—smart, hardworking, capable—was like a beautiful bubble. With just a few words from Old Wang, it popped, becoming a brief spark before vanishing completely, faster than a real estate market crash.

It was only one side of the story, but his instincts told him Old Wang was telling the truth.

This was not a man's intuition. It was a Ghost Rider's intuition, something in the realm of a sixth sense, perhaps even a seventh sense... All right, this was not a Saint Seiya novel.

In short, after making a deal with the devil and believing he had sold his soul to it, he had indeed gained abilities unlike those of ordinary people: Superman's strength, Superman's reflexes, Superman's stamina, Superman's senses—

A Superman beyond ordinary humans, not the Superman who wore his underwear outside his pants.

Wait... a book?

"What book?" Robbie caught the key point.

Everything had happened because of a book?

"The Darkhold." Old Wang stared at Robbie, his expression meaningful.

Robbie froze.

The Darkhold?

Why did it sound so much like a name from a game?

Suddenly, Robbie felt the Spirit of Vengeance stir. It actually reacted to that name?

What was going on?

Old Wang's gaze became even more meaningful, because he too sensed the Spirit of Vengeance's agitation.

That powerful evil spirit could hide from others, but not from him. Though the Grandmaster no longer possessed the strength he had before crossing over, he still retained that much perception.

The Spirit of Vengeance had to react to the Darkhold. They were both connected to the Dark World, and neither was anything good.

No, they were both good things!

The Spirit of Vengeance was very powerful. If he gave it to Azeroth Miss, he should be able to get quite a lot of blood in exchange, right?

Of course, the Spirit of Vengeance would definitely be unwilling and would resist. Old Wang had no intention of killing it either. Mainly because he could not beat it for the moment, and there was no need to. Ghost Rider was such a cool profession; since it existed, there was no reason to make it disappear. Robbie was a good host, family-oriented and morally upright. Old Wang liked him very much.

What he truly wanted was the Darkhold.

It was the source of all black magic in the world, the exact opposite of Ancient One's "Book of Vishanti," which recorded white magic.

Basically, the two books could be considered on the same level.

Its value was self-evident.

In Old Wang's eyes, how was it a book of darkness? It was practically "Azeroth Blood" in book form, barrel after barrel of it!

To use the Heart of Azeroth, he had to exchange things for Azeroth Blood.

To exchange for Azeroth Blood, he had to trade something for it.

In theory, anything would do, even dirt, since everything had value.

But there was a problem.

Last night, Old Wang had poured in a bit of True Qi and barely activated the Heart of Azeroth, allowing him to speak with Azeroth Miss. Only then did he learn that exchanging for Azeroth Blood also required opening a Time-Space Channel. Otherwise, how would it be delivered?

Of course, because of the connection between the Heart of Azeroth and Azeroth Miss—and some theory Old Wang definitely could not understand—transporting Azeroth Blood was easier than transporting other things.

Even so, transporting one hundred tons of Azeroth Blood would consume a full two tons as a shipping fee. Two percent minimum, non-negotiable.

The exorbitant shipping fee was one thing, but the key was that there was also a minimum charge, and the fee depended on the mass and volume of the item being transported.

The larger and heavier it was, the higher the shipping fee.

If he exchanged things like dirt, it would not even cover the shipping fee. He would not get even one microgram of Azeroth Blood, and would have to pay extra on top of that.

Simply put, only items valuable enough were worth exchanging.

Value meant the item's inherent value, not its symbolic significance.

For example, if Old Wang brought ten thousand dollars' worth of paper and pens, they would be worth less to Azeroth Miss than the same weight in blank paper. At least the latter was cleaner.

Azeroth Miss had said that things like the Infinity Stones were high-value items, while diamonds and gold were low-value items, with shipping fees as high as fifty percent.

That was the limit.

Anything less valuable than diamonds and gold had no exchange value at all.

The Darkhold was undoubtedly a good thing, somewhere between the Infinity Stones and diamonds or gold.

How could he let it slip away?