Riley gathered the loot from the dead, of course, didn't forget to visit the Starry Sky Pavilion to claim it as his own.
The once-proud sect was now in shock, its elders slain, its disciples trembling before the man who had single-handedly crushed their leadership.
He stood at the highest point of the main hall, looking down on the survivors who knelt before him.
"I now claim ownership of this sect," he declared, his tone calm but filled with unshakable authority.
"Those who wish to leave may do so freely. Those who wish to stay, stay—but know that I will not treat you unfairly. You have three hours to decide."
His words were simple, yet they carried the weight of final judgment.
The disciples looked at one another, their faces pale. Some quickly gathered their belongings and fled without looking back, terrified of what the Ash Maker might do next.
Others stayed, driven by fear, ambition, or a strange admiration for the man who had overturned their world in a single day.
