As Lu Zhou's vision began to fade, he caught a glimpse of a white silhouette.
He was sitting by the riverbank, fishing with a frustrated face, having caught nothing. Across from him, Lu Tian burst out laughing, mocking him endlessly. But Lu Zhou—with a mischievous grin—stole Lu Tian's fish and ran off. They chased each other while laughing, joyful, as if their childhood had never ended.
Tears gently streamed from the corner of Lu Zhou's eyes as his body struck the bottom of the ravine. He closed his eyes. No more breath. Only silence.
Blood dripped between the cracks of shattered stones. The land was torn. The sky burned red.
Cheon Ji and Yan Zhian stood back to back—not as enemies, but as two warriors who had lost everything. No victory. No honor. Only ruin remained.
Their bodies trembled. Breaths ragged. Clothes torn, bodies wounded. Their auras extinguished—as if the world's last two flames were about to die.
Suddenly—
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed, slicing through the silence like a cold blade against the throat. The air shifted. Heavy, oppressive, as if the sky itself was being crushed by an undeniable presence.
The ground trembled. Not from an explosion—but from an aura. An absolute one.
Cheon Ji and Yan Zhian turned. Instantly, their knees hit the ground. Not by will—but by sheer, overwhelming force that crushed both soul and flesh.
The fog of the battlefield slowly parted.
Two figures emerged from the smoke.
The first: Seong Whak, cloaked in black with golden trims. He stood tall, like a newly crowned king. His eyes were dark—bottomless.
Beside him walked an old man with white hair and beard: Mo Tian, who had vanished days ago.
"Mo... Mo Tian...?" Cheon Ji stammered, his voice choking.
Mo Tian looked at him. Calm. Not angry. But with a sorrow he couldn't hide.
Seong Whak stepped forward. His voice was calm—yet the earth trembled as he spoke:
> "From this day on…" "…the Murim world will be under my rule."
Each step he took shattered the will to resist.
> "If anyone dares to oppose…" "…you will face the consequences."
No one spoke. Even Yan Zhian—the cold-blooded demon—could only bow his head.
Cheon Ji clenched his teeth. His body shook. He wanted to resist. To ask questions. But no words came.
Then Mo Tian stepped forward. His voice wasn't loud, but cold, sharp, piercing the heart:
> "You were blinded by ambition. By power…" "You didn't realize you were betrayed… and pitted against one another."
> "B-But… Mo Tian… the letter was from you…!" Cheon Ji cried, desperate.
> "Fool." Seong Whak answered coldly. "It was Dark Blood's doing. They orchestrated everything… so you would destroy each other."
Like thunder splitting the sky. The world seemed to stop.
> "W-What…?" Cheon Ji muttered. His eyes trembled as he looked around. "Lin He…? Where are the others…? Lu Zhou?!"
But the answer came from the enemy before him.
Seong Whak stared deep into his eyes.
> "You are a fool, Cheon Ji."
That one sentence struck harder than all the wounds on his body.
> "Mu Whon and Kim Jheon Mo… were part of Dark Blood from the very beginning."
> "…No way…" Cheon Ji couldn't stand. His eyes hollow. Even Yan Zhian was wide-eyed. He didn't know either.
Mo Tian bowed his head slightly, hiding the guilt behind his gaze.
> "You weren't the only ones sacrificed…" "…even Lu Zhou died in vain, unaware of the betrayal."
> "…Lu Zhou…" Cheon Ji staggered. His fists clenched. Not from fear—but from the guilt burning inside.
All the struggle. All the sacrifice. Turned out to be mere puppetry by traitors.
And amidst the ruins, Seong Whak spread his arms.
His voice echoed across the Murim world:
> "From this day forth… we shall unite our strength!" "Together, we will destroy the remnants of Dark Blood that fester in the shadows!"
The remaining warriors lowered their heads. Their gazes confused—but something had changed.
> "Remember this well!" Seong Whak declared. "Our true enemy is the remaining Dark Blood." "You… are the brothers of Murim. You are the last light of this world."
> "Unite your strength… and erase the darkness!"