"Dare to disrespect gods and usurp superiors, death is well deserved..."
"Hiss!!!"
The brilliant red light illuminated half of Without-Sun City, leaving countless people in shock as they witnessed the return of a mythical skill, once only known in clan history, to reality overnight.
The bride—uttering a piercing scream from the depths of her throat.
She regretted it, regretting agreeing to the Jester Emperor, taking risks with her body, coming to this land of right and wrong.
She wanted to flee, to escape Without-Sun City, to return to the Abyss of the Red Dust, back to that nest called "The Well."
But she couldn't, she could only watch helplessly as a divine arrow draped in red flames pierced through her brow and, along with her soul, shattered into pieces and decayed into mud.
"No! It shouldn't be me who dies!!"
"Ye Clan... Ye Clan... you are treacherous and ruthless... one day, all heavens and ten thousand races will rise and attack you..."
