"Help!!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
"Don't let him escape!"
Dral! Drap! Drap!
The man's footprints sank deep into the muddy floor of the dark forest. Fear, panic, and dread merged into one within him. Sweat poured from his head to his toes.
He was exhausted—yet the foreign bandits refused to stop their relentless pursuit.
Snap!
"Damn it!"
A boar trap snapped shut, clamping down on his leg and throwing him to the ground. The bandits caught up within seconds.
"Tell us what you know about the Snow Lotus Sect," one of them demanded.
The man stayed silent.
"Answer me, bastard!"
"Heh... you think I'd tell you that easily? Pathetic scum."
Slash!
A blade pierced through his leg, blood spilling onto the dirt. The man screamed in pain.
"Talk now—or I'll cut both your legs off!" another bandit threatened.
"I already told you... your efforts are useless. The Master isn't someone you fools can even comprehend!"
He spat blood as he spoke, trembling yet defiant.
From behind, the rhythmic steps of a horse echoed. A woman with short crimson hair approached, her beauty sharp as her gaze—cold and commanding.
Her deep voice cut through the forest air.
"Take him to the back. He's no longer useful."
She gripped a rolled parchment tightly in her hand. A faint smile curved on her rosy lips as she unraveled it.
"We move at once," she ordered.
The sun was sinking from its throne. Shadows stretched across the forest floor as the first howls of wolves broke the silence.
In the place where the man had fallen, blood soaked into the soil. A carrion bird landed beside his lifeless head, pecking at what remained.
Night had come.
And from this night—the story began.