Chapter 261: Midnight's Special Guest Reception Ritual

"Damn freakish monster."

Listening to the news broadcast on the radio, the taxi driver immediately went from zero to a hundred, cursing aloud: "First the damn stock market crashes, then the damn price of eggs skyrockets, and now what the hell is this new ghostly thing coming our way?"

Lester, seated in the back, had no mind to hear his complaints; listening to the news on the broadcast, he reached out in terror and clutching his own head.

"Namos! Namos!"

Unable to restrain himself, he grabbed Constantine's arm beside him and asked, trembling: "Namos is here, isn't he? I'm so scared, John, I'm so scared."

Constantine sat expressionlessly beside him; he was too weary to explain anymore—ever since the group took off from Heathrow in London, England, Lester's mouth hadn't stopped moving.

If not for the fact that the other man was his friend, Constantine would have truly wanted to curse at him directly: "You blabbering idiot, shut up!"

Having held out until now, Constantine's heart was already extremely irritable; he very much wanted to simply pull out a gun and blow Lester's brains out—at least fantasizing about such a scene helped him soothe his emotions.

"John, does Midnight Papa have any powder? I really need that stuff."

Ma Ma Zhaodi sighed, placing his hat back onto the other's head: "Lester, restrain yourself; with me here, it is impossible to allow you to inhale even a single milligram of powder."

Meanwhile, the voice on the radio had shifted to a debate between a medical scientist and a theologian.

"The victims' characteristic is an extremely strong devouring desire toward the objects they are obsessed with; this could be abnormal behavior caused by a viral infection..."

"Nonsense! This is my Lord's divine punishment upon sinners, a warning to the world, an omen of righteous judgment descending!"

"Dr. Arnold, Father Bansrina, forgive my bluntness, but you must hear this new report—a thirty-year-old man in the Bronx gorged himself to death on his collection of limited-edition comic books..."

"Excellent," Constantine thought to himself: "People can choose sides based on their stances between these two, but at the same time, who could have guessed that neither side has anything to do with the truth?"

At this very moment, within a high-rise building in New York City, a whisper from Hell sounded softly.

Lush green vegetation filled the room; within the enormous space of over a thousand square meters, palm trees, bromeliads, bird's-nest ferns, banyan trees, and numerous other plants distributed throughout rainforests grew intertwined here, while various small animals occasionally crawled among the foliage, making it look less like an ordinary man-made greenhouse and more like a miniature indoor ecosystem.

The owner of this room must possess extraordinary wealth—achieving this within a skyscraper constructed of reinforced concrete would cost absolutely no small sum.

The setting sun shone through the glass exterior walls into the room, coating everything inside with a layer of golden light, when suddenly a burly man dressed in a suit emerged from the jungle of plants.

He lifted a human skull from an altar table, appearing somewhat eerie under the golden radiance.

"Did you feel it?" he asked the skull: "That scent of danger in the air—come now, sister, temporarily withdraw from the pleasures of Hell and give me some advice."

As he spoke, he held the skull up to the massive glass curtain wall; this greenhouse occupied the very top floor of the building, and looking outward from here, one could take in the brightly lit New York City along with the entire sky.

"Look, something is moving within the jungle outside—can your dead eyes perceive its appearance? Can your dead mouth utter its name?"

The whisper from Hell was like a dreamy murmur, a muttering sound from another dimension that ordinary people could never hear, quietly drilling into the man's ear—he did not receive the answer he desired.

"You don't recognize it?" the man asked the skull: "Sister, I thought you had slept with every demon in Hell."

The demon once again made a silent response.

"I see; since it did not come from heaven or from below, then it must be a newly born evil spirit originating from the human world; so ravenous, calling it a 'Hungry Spirit' seems quite appropriate."

"And now, we must ensure it goes elsewhere to eat..."

The man placed the skull back upon the altar table, reached out, and pressed the intercom button nearby: "Servant, fetch me a white rooster."

Strange groaning sounds issued from the speaker; a moment later, silence fell once again on the other end.

At this very moment, Ma Ma Zhaodi and Constantine happened to be leading Lester into the building.

"Is this where Midnight Papa resides?" Ma Ma Zhaodi asked: "It looks quite impressive."

"What, does his identity as an African give you some sort of illusion?" Constantine lit a cigarette: "Although this fellow is a member of the Wudu Sect, making him somewhat bloodthirsty, and indeed a creepy character—there is no doubt that he is very rich, extremely rich, and has used his wealth to collect quite a few good items within our circle."

He concluded by saying: "Midnight Papa may not be able to cover the sky with one hand, but he can absolutely stir up wind and clouds within the circle."

Ma Ma Zhaodi immediately understood; it seemed that in this universe, Midnight Papa had maintained his persona as the "Master of Weapons" just like in the movies, holding quite a few holy relics and demonic artifacts; although there might not be many top-tier goods, there were probably quite a few mid-tier magical implements.

The three wandered back and forth on the ground floor of the building until finally spotting a fire safety door; Constantine stepped forward first and pushed it open, whereupon an unbearable, piercing stench immediately drifted out from the crack of the door.

"Jesus Christ, what the hell is this smell? It stinks worse than a damn zoo..."

Ma Ma Zhaodi's senses were extremely acute; not only could he smell the odor from within the door, but he could also hear chicken clucking from deeper inside, as well as the heavy footsteps of a burly man moving about.

"Be careful," he warned: "Who knows what kind of things are in there."

"Nothing more than those few tricks Midnight usually plays..." Constantine replied carelessly, striding inward: "Anyone home? Sorry to disturb—"

His voice cut off abruptly, while Ma Ma Zhaodi pulled Lester along to quickly catch up, his other hand already gripping his gun to prevent conflict.

After approaching close to Constantine, a pile of chicken cages appeared before everyone's eyes; white-feathered chickens were confined within the cages, emitting noisy clucking sounds, while a burly black fat man, completely naked save for a loincloth, was currently holding a chicken cage with one hand, turning his head to stare at the several sudden intruders, his eyes somewhat dull, looking as if he wasn't very bright.

"Uh... uh..."

"Um... sorry to disturb?"

"Aaaargh!"

Hearing Constantine's cautious greeting, the burly man immediately let out a deafening roar at the people before him.

(End of Chapter)