Now, Ashen realized, this was not merely a message—it was a killing order. He felt a dark weight settle in his chest as a bitter complaint echoed in his heart.
Fifty years had passed since the sect sent him any news. And yet, this time, it was a command drenched in death.
Slowly, with practiced hands, Ashen unsealed the ancient instructions from the Black Demon Sect.
His eyes narrowed at the ominous crimson mark emblazoned at the top—a single, haunting character: "Death."
More than a word, it was a talisman of destruction.
Beneath it, a name was etched.
"Ethan?"
The name twisted something inside Ashen's memory. It tugged faint and faintly familiar, like a shadow glimpsed at dusk. His fingers hovered, then closed firmly on the kill order, wary yet compelled.
A ghostly voice whispered in his ears, breaking the silence:
