The night wind was like a blood-stained sickle, bringing with it a fishy smell and moisture. The messenger of death carried it as it wandered to every corner of the city.
In the darkness, the messenger of death advanced without restraint. Under the horn of killing intent, it seemed to fuse with all the shadows in the city, continuously gathering and dispersing. It was enough to make all lives despair.
Until… in the midst of this pervasion, it encountered a person in a dark and distant corner.
It was a figure dressed in a gray robe. In the dark night, his back view seemed as though it couldn't be cut by a blade or pierced by a needle. The chill he emitted seemed to block the starlight from the sky.
It was suffocating.
At this moment, it was as though the flowing river met the sea, as though the greedy jackals had met the wolf king.
