The note contained only these words, but it was unmistakably left by John Chou. All of us could sense the lingering ghostly energy on it.
The brightly lit city was still far away, and the black-clad staff members known as The Smiling Host had vanished. All around us, there was no trace of any presence.
Ber Ziran took the note from my hand and studied it carefully for a while.
"Judging by the handwriting, it really was written by John Chou."
I was a bit surprised—the handwriting was elegant, almost like a girl's, beautiful and delicate. We all recalled, almost simultaneously, that among the dozen or so black-clad figures surrounding us earlier, one was John Chou. But aside from a slight difference in their eyes, those people were nearly identical, even in their aura. There was no way to tell them apart.
John Chou slipped me the note in a single instant.
"Alright, let's keep moving. Since he already said so, let's go over there and see what's really going on."
"Do you think Howard Zhang might not have come?"
Rachel Lan muttered beside me. I shook my head, unsure myself. By then, some people had already left the square, but when The Smiling Host called out, his voice was loud enough. My cousin should have heard it—assuming he was still here.
We stopped by the giant pillar. Deathcurse immediately stepped forward and placed a hand on the massive column, its diameter stretching dozens of meters. Only up close did we realize just how enormous it was.
"It's strange, these pillars seem to have formed naturally."
Deathcurse said as I walked over and touched the surface of a pillar. It was rough and uneven, without any sign of carving—almost as if it had grown from the ground itself.
In this world where night never ends, the only warmth comes from the dazzling lights of the city ahead.
This is different from what I imagined The Dark Banquet would be like. I thought there would be a fight as soon as we arrived, but there wasn't.
We were getting closer now, the glow already shining on us. Nocturne City—a sleepless place—burst with vibrant lights strung along the streets. Lamps stood every few steps, and the crowd was lively and dense.
Mouthwatering aromas swept over us. A dozen men in black still waited ahead. We started sizing them up, trying to spot which one was John Chou.
But none of them looked the part. Then, one stepped out. The only difference was a pad on his left shoulder, topped with a silver epaulet.
"Honored guests, please follow us."
A chorus of street vendors' cries rang out.
"Hot, whole-roasted beef!"