The door creaked open.
Outside the window, the night was deep and profound; fireflies danced in the darkness, and faintly, the sounds of chirping insects and birds could be heard.
Xi Mu stood at the doorway, turning back to glance at Mist behind him. She was wearing a beige gown that accentuated her graceful figure, her crimson hair tied into a single ponytail draped over her shoulder, exuding a gentle yet dignified air.
A blade sharp enough to wound gods appeared, in this moment, gentler than the moonlight outside, making it hard to part from its presence.
"Go now." Mist smiled softly, her delicate hand brushing aside the hair from Ahtal's forehead, then adjusted his collar with care.
"If there is still a future, we will have a long time to be together."
Now, Ahtal was about to descend into Hell to work with the Witch of Death in analyzing the world within death itself. If their plan succeeded, everyone could smuggle themselves into a brand-new world.
