This feeling was very bad.
But Mephistos was, after all, a strong man who had experienced countless successes and failures. After a while, he restrained his state of incompetence and anger and thought of the most critical question: Who did it?
Odin? Not likely.
Although someone from Asgard had recently been to Earth, it was definitely not Odin.
Odin, who had suppressed the Nine Realms and was a top master in the universe, had been the treasure of Asgard for thousands of years, and there was no record of him going out to fight.
Ancient One? This … was a little possible, but also too impossible.
This mysterious Sorcerer Supreme's spell could make the special altar disappear instantly, but most of her attention was on guarding against the Dark Dimension, Dom 'Mammu.
Mephistos had been playing tricks for so many years, and he knew this very well.
He only sent a clone to Earth to make a small fuss, which was the bottom line of Ancient One's psychology.
If he dared to come with his real body, Ancient One wouldn't mind beating him up like Dom 'Mammu.
Women couldn't be provoked, and a bald female boss even more so.
If this female boss also had supreme spells that could deter multiple dimensions, then she definitely couldn't be provoked.
After thinking about it, Mephistos didn't have any targets in mind.
There were many suspects, but they were all people who were unlikely to make a move.
Mephisto's face could only darken — and it was a real darken.
Bursts of black mist emanated from his face, and countless wails rang out in the black mist.
The special altar was not an ordinary item. It was a unique magic tool that he had created a thousand years ago, and it contained his core spells.
With this thing, he had gotten millions of souls from Earth.
It was shapeless, able to form an appearance according to people's thoughts, and then use various methods to lure people to fall and collect high-quality souls for him.
He remembered that more than two hundred years ago, the altar was obtained by some false believers of the Goddess of Destiny, and it changed into the appearance of the Loom of Destiny.
Since then, these brainless false believers had kept sending him all kinds of high-quality souls, which made him very satisfied.
Using the special altar was selling their souls.
Once these false believers who had benefited from the special altar died, their souls would also belong to him.
Mephistos, the black-hearted businessman, had eaten everything, not letting anyone go.
He was certainly very satisfied with this special altar.
If the doppelganger was the customer service personnel that he sent out, then the special altar was the customer service robot that automatically answered simple questions.
The altar wasn't as flexible as the clone, but it was a long-term source of income that he didn't have to worry about.
Now that this source of income was gone, Mephistos could only sigh. "Forget it. I'll try to get another one when I have the chance."
He was not in a good mood about this.
This altar was special even to him, so it was definitely not an ordinary item.
Not to mention the rare and precious raw materials, it would take him three to five hundred years to complete the production of the spell.
What a huge loss this time!
…
Luke had no idea that he had tricked another mighty Demon Lord.
After a moment of shock, he did not immediately choose to use the Loom of Destiny. Instead, he tried his best to suppress his emotions.
The last time he modified the storage module, the storage space stopped working for half a day.
What if Daddy System went on strike during the modification of the System Panel?
Tonight, he was here to earn experience and level up.
Those who came out to make a living had to be trustworthy.
Since he said he would wipe out the Mutual Assistance Association, he would definitely wipe them out.
Since he said he would earn experience and credit points, he would definitely earn them.
But what he didn't know was that the moment the Loom of Destiny disappeared from the room, a lot of people in the world suddenly felt a jolt in their heads, as if something was missing. Then, they panicked.
This included all the hitmen in the textile mill 17. They all had this inexplicable reaction.
Sloan closed his eyes for a moment and frowned. "Did you feel it?"
The dozen or so hitmen in front of him nodded in unison. A woman couldn't help but ask, "Sloan, what's going on?"
Sloan's mind raced, but he could only shake his head. "I don't know, but I feel like something's missing."
Most of them subconsciously nodded, because they had the same feeling.
For a moment, everyone looked at Sloan, hoping to get an answer from him.
This old guy was in charge of a lot of the Mutual Assistance Association's secrets. It was possible that he knew the inside story.
Unfortunately, Sloan's expression flickered. In the end, he only said, "I'm tired. Let's go." He then turned around and left.
The hitmen looked at each other and exchanged glances for a moment, before they could only get up and leave. Bang!
Bang! Bang!
Bang! Bang!
Suddenly, sporadic gunshots rang out.
Everyone, who was about to disperse, looked at the gate.
"What's going on? Is it an enemy attack?"
"Let's go take a look."
With a few simple words, everyone rushed to the gate.
They were extremely fast, and there were so many of them that they weren't afraid even if there were crosses.
In the meantime, gunshots rang out a few more times, but they all died down.
Everyone could tell from the gunshots that someone was exchanging shots with the guards, but they didn't make the first move. They only counterattacked after being attacked by the guards.
What was even more terrifying was that there was only one gunshot from the other party, while the guards fired several different kinds of gunshots.
Apparently, a few guards had lost their lives in the crossfire.
Everyone soon arrived at the front gate, and saw that the guards on the walls and the commanding heights of the castle weren't firing anymore.
The corpses of the guards were lying on several high points.
Everyone was shocked. They scattered and climbed up the outer wall to look outside.
In the dark, they saw a bearded man in a black suit with slicked-back hair standing there.
He held his gun in one hand and didn't raise it. He quietly looked at the people on the wall.
Seeing more than ten famous hitmen appear, the man in the suit finally said, "Let Sloan out."
His voice was calm and emotionless, similar to how most people spoke to the ordering staff at a fast food restaurant — flat, indifferent, and emotionless.
Everyone was silent. The small groups looked at each other, but nobody said anything.
Finally, the gunsmith said, "Who are you?"
The man in the suit finally turned his head and looked at him. "John Wick. You can also call me Night Demon. "
Everyone's hearts skipped a beat, and they were shocked. Was this guy crazy? He had sent someone to deliver the message yesterday, and now he was here to fight. Did he think that he had the Fraternity in his hands? Then why were you called Night Demon? You might as well call yourself Night God.
It was the gunsmith who spoke again. "Why are you here?"
The man in the suit didn't reply. He even looked away, as if the gunsmith had suddenly ceased to exist.
F * ck! Everyone cursed inwardly.
This way of courting death was … fresh and refined! Did he think this was a movie?
What they didn't know was that even though there weren't any cameramen present, a certain someone was really here to act.
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