Demon Hunter and His Cabin
Chapter 842 - 653: The So-Called Truth

Chapter 842: Chapter 653: The So-Called Truth

In the pure white world, a streak of black intruded—a power erupted so suddenly that, in the instant it surged forth, Roger felt as if he had already lost control of his body.

He became a wandering consciousness, then watched helplessly as his body floated into mid-air, narrowly evading the monster’s attack.

Then, he extended his frail arms and swayed them gently in the air.

"What a strange little creature!"

Granny Snow’s silver hair scattered backward, revealing a gnarled and menacing face.

Her mouth split open wide, sharp teeth protruded from within, and a crimson tongue, slick with mucus, darted toward Roger.

But at that moment, Granny Snow, in her frenzied charge, failed to notice the abnormality unfolding within her own body.

With every step forward, her body fell apart inch by inch. By the time she reached Roger, an invisible force had already shredded her into countless pieces, leaving only a solitary head.

A rusty hatchet sliced through the air, plunging straight into Granny Snow’s face.

Crack!

The force that erupted from Roger’s frail form at that moment was utterly horrifying—it effortlessly cleaved Granny Snow’s head in two.

A thick blot of murky brain matter spewed forth, but as a flash of black light swept by, the foul liquid instantly evaporated, leaving only a piercing scream reverberating through the valley.

Crunch, crunch.

The hatchet in Roger’s hand splintered into fragments, scattering across the snow. His body floated down from the air.

Mysterious forces surged and threaded through his body, seemingly reconstructing it entirely.

Standing in the snow, Roger felt no trace of cold.

Who knows how much time had passed when a few trembling heads appeared at the doorway.

And then they saw the field of scattered corpses, with Roger standing among them.

"Wha... what happened?"

Someone cautiously whispered.

Roger noticed the terror-filled eyes fixed upon him. He wanted to respond but found his body involuntarily walking forward.

"What’s going on?"

A wave of doubt swept through his heart. He could feel all the changes occurring within this body but had, inexplicably, lost control.

"Shuntsuki, was it you who killed it?"

A rough male voice broke the silence, but Roger said nothing. Instead, he lifted his head, his gaze piercing through the darkness to a spot in the sky.

Whoosh!

A sharp wind cut through the air, followed by several figures appearing above the snow-covered ground.

Powerful spiritual energy surged from their imposing forms, their attire uniform, each face concealed behind a bizarre mask.

Roger recognized the mask design.

These people must belong to the Crow Tengu.

"Dead?"

"So someone actually killed that thing. Could it be an Onmyoji happened to pass by?"

A young man spoke, then turned his attention to those gathered at the wooden cabin’s doorway. "Do you know what happened here?"

The crowd trembled as they stared at him, not daring to answer.

Growing impatient, the young man finally noticed an elderly figure in the crowd who shakily extended a finger, pointing toward where Roger stood.

"He killed that thing!"

"We were all hiding inside the house—it was him!"

The young man’s curious eyes landed on Roger. A beam of light shot from his gaze, as if probing deep into Roger’s body.

"An accidental awakening... how intriguing."

"Little one, would you like to come with me?"

Roger could only watch silently, powerless to say anything. In the next moment, he felt a force lift him up.

Behind him, a pair of wings as delicate as cicada wings unfurled.

"If you don’t answer, I’ll take that as a yes. With talent like this, you’ll make an excellent Onmyoji!"

The young man rose into the air, Roger’s wings flapping and carrying him close behind.

Now realizing what had just transpired, the people inside the house rushed outside, staring upward with hopeful expressions at the floating young man.

"Onmyoji, please take me with you! Take me!"

The crowd leapt and shouted.

The young man, however, ignored their pleas, indifferent to the cacophony below as his body ascended higher.

Everything beneath him shrank into insignificance, and before it all faded away, Roger instinctively lowered his head, glimpsing the farcical chaos around the wooden cabin.

If he had held out just a little longer, events might have turned out differently—the sins inside the wooden house might have been prevented.

But now, his small, fragile body was severed completely from the figures below.

The difference between them was as vast as heaven and earth.

"Your composure during your first flight is truly unexpected. What’s your name?"

The youth pressed his lips together, then answered after a moment: "Yatagarasu Tsukihiko."

The instant the name was uttered, Roger felt his consciousness shake—deep within his soul, something seemed to be forcibly stripped away.

Detached from the world around him, turbulent emotions roiled within. When everything quieted down, Roger could distinctly sense that some part of his deepest self had been brutally dug out.

"It feels like I’ve forgotten something..."

Roger strained his mind, trying to remember, but his thoughts quickly stalled. "Wait, who... who am I?"

"I am Yatagarasu Tsukihiko!"

"No, no—wait, that’s not me!"

He frantically searched his thoughts, yet could find no trace of the name that felt so familiar.

A nebulous fear consumed him.

Fragments of disjointed memories flitted through his mind—only a moment ago did he know who he was, yet in the next instant, something was lost.

Amid these violent changes, the terror inside him grew stronger and stronger. Erratic thoughts surged, and a seemingly nonsensical notion flashed across his mind.