He has a round face, a slightly bald forehead, and is wearing a black coat.

The visitor stood on the edge of the dimly lit attic, facing Charles on the sofa, raised his hand and greeted him friendly.

However, Charles was not friendly to this. Looking at the sudden middle-aged demon, his eyes flashed, and the manic motivation of thoughts burst out instantly!

The sound of the wind that caused a lot of dust was muffled. The smiling guy's face changed, and he rushed to teleport and appeared directly at another location.

Immediately afterwards, a sharp rumbling sound was heard in my ears. After standing firm, I watched the steel wall "hit" by Charles Nian Teng on the spot, revealing the sunshine outside, Crowley raised his hand to wipe the cold sweat that did not exist on his face.

"What a surprise, is this a new way for you to welcome friends?"

"No, this means seeing off guests." Charles yelled: "I feel that there will be no good things when you come."

"Satan comes again." Crowley praised his face when he heard this, "For you, I betrayed the noble prince of hell. Do you know how much risk I take."

His tone seemed a little sad.

Unfortunately, Charles didn't take this trick: "Don't talk nonsense, what do you want to do when you look for me? And, how did you find me?"

He was really puzzled by this.

The nightmare beast is obviously gone, why is his whereabouts exposed to this person again?

"Christmas is coming soon, of course I need to prepare a gift for my friend." Crowley shook his coat, and seeing that Charles did not take action, his face returned to a smile.

"As for how to find you, well, I can only say that the devil can watch TV news."

After saying that, he didn't explain much, glanced around and changed the topic: "Obviously, this is not a good place to chat. Should we go to a cafe not far away for a friendly conversation?"

"It's right here, let's go if you have farts." Charles answered angrily.

He has no leisure and politeness to this sinister and cunning demon who speaks strangely.

"Don't do this. At least we are friends. Can't you be more polite?"

Crowley sighed, then saw that the other party's face was strange, and hurriedly blurted out the purpose of his trip.

"Give you 73 demons, what do you think of this Christmas gift?"

"73 demons?" Shir was stunned when he heard this.

"Yes, Devil, three days later, Chicago." Crowley nodded seriously, and then said, "Look, I'm very generous. Maybe I can consider dressing up as Santa Claus on the day of the holiday."

Shire didn't comment on this.

If so many demons really give them to him for free, of course he should not do it for nothing, but the person in front of him is not a trustworthy person.

"Who knows if what you are talking about is a trap?" he asked bluntly.

"Of course this cannot be a trap." Crowley said: "Otherwise, why would I take the initiative to give Dagon to you?"

Charles could not deny this, but he still distrusts this person: "What is your purpose? Exclude dissidents? Have fun in cheating on the same kind?"

"Maybe you can say it more tactful," Crowley blinked, saying, "What about this word, different ideas?"

"Idea? Are you talking about apocalypse?" Shire understood something, but was still quite puzzled.

"Why?"

"This question is a good question." Crowley smiled.

"So, why are you not good bosses? You have to risk your life to be a running errand for others?"

"The demons are not those idiotic angels who only listen to orders."

As he said that, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A pile of flesh and blood fragments burst out from the partition under a corner of the warehouse.

The sound was quite loud, and Charles glanced at the corner and said nothing.

Those were two children and two descendants of the God of Lanterns. They had been hiding there before, and Charles had known it for a long time.

"You are welcome."

Seeing that he had a expressionless face, Crowley left this sentence with a smile, and then suddenly disappeared.

The speed of this person leaving was as decisive and even abrupt as ever. Charles was adapted to this, but he was still very confused.

Aren't you talking about "gifts"? Why are you not chatting halfway?

He wondered, but then the phone in the pocket vibrated. He took out a message and narrowed his eyes.

[Chicago, three days later, I'm interested in phone call - Crowley]

"How did he know my phone number?" Shire pondered.

But before he could think about it carefully, another message suddenly appeared.

【I'm in Louisville - Fiona Goode】

Shire was speechless.

"Who leaked this?"

He murmured, a little puzzled.

It is logical that those who know his phone number are unlikely to disclose such private information, but now...

"I was confused by spells?"

With a guess, Charles had the urge to throw away his phone immediately.

After all, as long as you know your phone number, those who are interested can locate their location, so his talent will not take effect at all.

But in the end he didn't do that.

In modern society, it is really inconvenient to have no mobile phones...

"I'll change the card later."

This thought flashed through his mind, but Charles did not rush to leave the place, but stood there and began to recite the difficult Latin spell.

After a while, the sound of the spell fell, and a cloud of gray smoke grew in front of him, gathering into a middle-aged god of death in a black suit.

“Boss.”

Facing Shire, he bowed and bowed.

"Metatron has a connection with a small Indian tribe, or is hidden in a certain tribe. Please help me pay attention." Shire ordered.

Regarding this, he was originally going to find it himself, but after careful consideration, he had to give up this idea.

For the clerk of God who was hidden in a corner and alley, Charles only had these two words in his memory, so even if he did it himself, he might not be able to find it smoothly.

So why not leave it to the gods of death to do this.

"By the way, there is also the Monster Ancestor. If there is their place, remember to give me one." He said again.

The god of death nodded when he heard this, and then saw that there was nothing else in Shire, so he turned into ashes and disappeared.

Work diligently and have no comments.

"Fortunately, these gods of death are present."

Shire was a little grateful for this, and then thought of what Crowley said before.

That person obviously didn't want the apocalypse to appear, which was consistent with the opinions of American hunters, but for Charles...

Thoughts flew in his mind, he finally smiled and turned around and walked out of the attic of the warehouse. While walking, he took out a card from his wallet.

Facing the "drowsy" silver-haired old man among them, he asked.

"Tell me what you mentioned before."

"What?" The old silver-haired man in the card seemed to have not woken up yet, rubbing his eyes, looking a little confused.

"Valhalla." Charles reminded him.

Before finding the Lamp God's Lair, he had talked with this thing. Therefore, the idea that Charles didn't care much about changed quietly.
Chapter completed!