Laurel Morik—this was the name of this body.
The stale air of the basement rushed into his nostrils, carrying the scent of rust, mildew, and some cloyingly sweet stench of decay.
The smell was strange. It did not resemble that of an ordinarily decaying basement, but rather old blood mixed with the odor of melted candles.
Wu Heng rose to his feet. The flagstones beneath his palm were ice-cold, and the ground his fingertips touched was covered in a black, dust-like substance beneath which dense runes had been carved.
Dark red matter had settled in every groove, like dried bloodstains, yet it gave off an eerie greenish glow.
Looking down, Wu Heng discovered that the original owner of this body had been lying at the center of an enormous pentagram, its edges traced with salt and iron powder to form complex incantations.
Laurel Morik's body wore a black trench coat. At his waist hung a silver dagger bearing a stag's head, while a bone chain covered in runes was wrapped around his wrist.
Beyond the memories in the brain, Wu Heng also extracted the memories contained within every cell of the body, the lingering aura around it, and even the traces left on its weapons.
Laurel Morik, thirty-two years old, was the current head of the Morik Family. Publicly, he was an antique dealer; in truth, he was the descendant of a family of demon hunters.
It was simply that his family had not handled any supernatural incidents for a very long time.
The wealth they possessed was already enough to let every member of the family live out their lives in comfort. With a good life available to them, who would be willing to risk their necks?
Still, the family maintained certain connections with the world's demon-hunting circles.
These