June 16th, 11 a.m.
The rain in New York was getting heavier.
In the villa district downtown, large pools of water quickly gathered on the ground, flowing into the sewers.
In the yard.
Hannibal's charred body was wetted by the rain, yet it still smoked.
He was as dead as one could be.
But within the corpse, a peculiar aura was slowly brewing.
Eerie and cold.
The Church always feared hunters because they inevitably became Evil Spirits upon death.
No power is harmless.
The strength gained in exchange for being eroded by Evil Spirits carried malice towards the living from the very start.
Du Wei walked up to Hannibal's corpse and casually picked up the letter.
Under Spirit Vision.
The letter felt very strange to him, as if harboring a supremely evil will,
yet it seemed to be restrained by something.
It appeared unable to come out from within.
