Outside Black Mountain, somewhere.
Space ripple faintly appeared, as the Death Knight rode upon his steed, phantom-like in his arrival.
He halted here, lightly tugging on the reins, and the horse turned with soft clatter.
The shadow on the horse's back intensely gazed at a spot, and it took a while before his gaze slowly shifted to rest on the pitch-black Great Sword of Death in his hands.
"What is death?"
"In the confrontation of the concept of death, how do I not hold an advantage?"
The Death Knight thought back to the recent battle.
The concept of death controlled by the youthful king was grand and vast, barely inferior to his own.
It made him truly understand what it meant to be the True King in his youth.
It also made him understand why his master, the Silent Sovereign, was so obsessed with the True King, why he always said only with the return of the Wáng Líng Zhī Wáng, could the Undead have the possibility of returning to the pinnacle of the world.
