Demon Hunter and His Cabin-Chapter 53 - 0 Traditional and Modern

Chapter 53: Chapter 053 Traditional and Modern

While having breakfast in the restaurant, news of Sherman’s murder had spread throughout the entire town.

In Baytown, Sherman was a bona fide star, with many people working on his fishery, and his death naturally caused an uproar.

“I heard it was a crime of passion.”

Someone whispered, “Apparently one of his mistresses stabbed him with a dining knife.”

“How come I heard it was a business dispute?”

Because of Sherman’s death, the town’s public opinion stirred up like a storm.

...

After much discussion, there was still no official statement, and sometimes people don’t care about the truth, just looking for more gossip to spice up their dull lives.

Amanda looked at Roger with a skeptical face.

“What are you looking at me for?”

“Is there something fishy?”

“What’s fishy? You think Sherman’s death has something to do with me?”

Amanda narrowed her eyes.

“Can’t put my finger on it, but you don’t seem surprised at all, as if you knew about this from the start.”

“Heh.” Roger laughed awkwardly.

“I overheard Adeline’s phone call,” Roger explained casually.

But even so, Amanda seemed to still harbor suspicions.

Upon arriving at school, Bob naturally didn’t show up, having luckily not returned home last night, thereby escaping danger.

A whole day of studying wasn’t worth mentioning, Roger naturally still drank Potions to enter a study state, lying down to rest when tired, although he felt much of the knowledge wasn’t useful, but since he had promised Adeline, he didn’t want to break his word.

After the previous events, now the whole school knew Roger was not to be messed with, naturally, no one dared to approach him, and Roger enjoyed the tranquility, merely making casual conversation with Thomas.

The guy was carefree, but his knowledge of wildlife was indeed solid, which also extended to many creatures that existed only in legend.

Because of Sherman’s death, the whole town became panic-stricken, as there had indeed been several deaths in a row recently.

After school, the three of them still had dinner in the restaurant, and Adeline didn’t come back even late into the night.

As night fell, Roger closed the curtains and moved around the room, striving to practice the elven dagger technique.

Elven Dagger Technique LV2: The transformation between life and death surpasses the repetitive honing of practice, the habit integrates into the muscles, you have completely mastered the technique of wielding the dagger, swift and precise, capable of unleashing terrible killing power even when exhausted.

In the past few days, Roger’s experiences had all been focused on the dagger, and his practice of the Universal Sword Techniques had fallen a bit behind.

But there was no helping it, perhaps only after Henrik had completely dealt with the beast attacks would Roger have the chance to immerse himself fully in training.

Then he would experience a surge in strength.

“No suitable weapon, though…”

Looking at the wooden stick shaped like a dagger in his hand, Roger felt his persona as a Demon Hunter… was a bit of a sham.

In games, you just click a skill and the character would improve, but in reality, he had to make solid, steady progress.

Knock knock knock!

As he was thinking, a series of light taps came from outside the window.

A familiar face appeared.

Roger opened the window, and Henrik climbed in with practiced ease.

“What are you doing here?”

“Calling you to join me in action, of course?” Henrik said as a matter of fact.

“That seems like your problem, doesn’t it?” Roger said with a wooden expression.

Henrik laughed it off, not minding Roger’s attitude, “Inheriting from a Demon Hunter family, I don’t believe you wouldn’t be interested in these matters.”

“And…”

“Don’t you want to become a real Demon Hunter?”

Seeing the flicker of interest in Roger’s eyes, Henrik took out an item and casually tossed it over.

This chapt𝓮r is updat𝒆d by ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom.

“For you!”

This time, Roger didn’t just let the object drop to the ground.

Slap.

Roger’s eyes brightened.

It was a short dagger, a little over 40 centimeters in length.

The hilt was wrapped in a grey animal skin, feeling surprisingly good in his hand, as if it had been custom-made for him.

Tall and slender, with a dull color, about two and a half fingers wide, Roger couldn’t determine the material. He swung it a few times, and although the sharp blade cut through the air, the sound it made was soft.

With this, the dagger he had previously hidden away could now be honorably discharged from service.

“I put some thought into this item,”

Henrik said.

“These days, traditional Demon Hunters are a rare sight, and while cold weapons are still in use, they’re no longer mainstream.”

“And more advanced weapons… even if given to you, wouldn’t be of much use.”

“Traditional Demon Hunters?”

“You mean Demon Hunters are divided into traditional and modern?”

Roger paused, puzzled.

“Why not?”

Henrik’s silver handgun appeared in his right hand. “No matter how fast, do you think your dagger could outspeed a bullet?”

Seeing the disbelief in Roger’s eyes, Henrik smiled, “If the distance is increased, someone like you wouldn’t even get the chance to make a move.”

“Don’t equate us with ordinary gunmen.”

“Our visual nerves, reaction speeds, and both hands have been specially enhanced.”

“This is something ordinary people can’t compare to.”

“The closer you get, the faster you’ll die.”

Henrik sneered coldly.

“But that doesn’t mean there are no drawbacks. Modern Demon Hunters rely too much on their weapons. It’s fine for handling ordinary incidents, but when facing some real…”

Henrik sighed.

“What’s the point of talking about this? All you need to know is that if you wish to continue the path of the traditional Demon Hunter, the road ahead will be very difficult.”

“If you have compelling reasons to do so, then you’d best join one of those families that still have a legacy.”

“Or try your luck in the East at Sunrise.”

“Times have changed,”

Henrik added, pressing his hands together, and the handgun disappeared from his grasp.

“It’s getting late; we need to hurry.”

Watching Roger still standing in place, Henrik extended his hand, “Either give me the dagger, or come with me.”

Having received something, what reason was there to give it back? Roger gripped the short dagger tightly and followed Henrik.

Arriving in the woods, Henrik pulled out the bundle he had acquired from Sherman the previous day, then took out a page from it.

“That Sherman does have some tricks up his sleeve. The ritual he conducted, cruel as it might be, is indeed effective. If he succeeds…”

Henrik was clearly prepared, as he took out a number of pots and bottles from a square leather case, containing unidentified red liquids, pungent powders, odd herbs, and pale bones.

The pendant on his chest grew warm, a clear indication that the items Henrik had brought out were no ordinary objects.

“To trigger a mysterious ritual, you either need the corresponding energy or use a transcendent casting object,”

Henrik casually explained.

At this point, Roger was slightly taken aback. Throughout, all the potions he prepared never used any transcendent substances.

Is it the specialty of the Hunter’s Cabin?