The Shadow King whispered, "He... he sensed it all and planned a rebellion. Finally, one day, he realized the time was ripe. He gathered everyone with royal bloodline and hosted an extravagant banquet, and on the day of revelry, he briefly suppressed the Will of the First-Sealed King, regained control of his body, and set it all ablaze." 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

The Night of Blood.

Gray knew what the Shadow King was talking about. At that moment, he understood the truth of the Night of Blood and grasped the real purpose of that frenzied violence.

"What a great sacrifice."

Gray’s body trembled uncontrollably, resorting to violence, cutting all ties with the Devil, even if it would cause the Empire to collapse.

"The First Seat knew the royal secret very early and chose to pledge allegiance to the Devil, while I chose to pledge allegiance to the true King, collaborating with him to conspire this whole thing.

Unfortunately, the Night of Blood wasn’t complete."

"Xilin survived."

Gray said softly. At that moment, he understood the division between the King’s Secret Sword and the King’s Shield Guard.

"It might have been compassion from fatherly love, or perhaps he couldn’t hold on. Xilin wasn’t killed, becoming the only surviving bloodline. Since then, the First-Sealed King has always wanted to reclaim Xilin to continue himself."

The Shadow King lamented, "We fought, but unfortunately, we still failed."

Struggling to lift his head, the Shadow King knew a transaction was taking place within the Great Rift. The King’s Secret Sword was about to obtain Xilin’s corpse, using the Seeker of Glory’s corpse, an empty corpse, to transfer his soul onto it, thus gaining rebirth.

Xilin was said to be a corpse, but in a certain sense, he wasn’t dead. At the end of the secret war, his soul was annihilated, yet his body remained perfect. This was something known by very few... The Shadow King regretted not just cutting off Xilin’s head with one sword.

Who could have foreseen what followed? The Shadow King tried not to think about these things.

"Does this truth satisfy you?"

Gray’s face was filled with desolation and despair. From the Shadow King’s story, the King’s Secret Sword he once pledged allegiance to seemed to be the villain, while the King’s Shield Guard was the real fighter.

With his mind gradually distorting, Gray understood these things, but whenever he wanted to let go, Milasha’s death replayed before his eyes.

Then what was Milasha’s death? A small sacrifice?

What did his actions count for?

In the oppressive atmosphere of despair, Gray seemed to comprehend some things and made some kind of decision.

"No... it’s not over yet."

Gray stood up and walked toward the Shadow King, crouching beside him.

"You’re still alive."

Gray’s eyes were bloodshot, "Damn it, I know you’re still alive! Since you survived the secret war, then you can survive by some means!"

The Shadow King hesitated briefly, only to hear Gray continue speaking.

"I know who you are, I know... this is intelligence I gained through a soul transaction."

Gray’s tone was frenzied, "Of course, at first, it was to kill you."

Gray knew the Shadow King’s true name.

Within the Shadow King’s emaciated eyes, there was a hint of incredulity.

"To be honest, I still hate you. I can’t easily discard this hatred, I can’t do it, but... compared to the grand fate you face, what I bear and my hatred seem insignificant.

Yes, tracing back to the source, those bastards are the root of our tragedies!"

Gray paused and grabbed the sullied Silence Sword, "In Mammon’s script, this sword was supposed to end your life."

"I don’t want the Devil to win, and you probably don’t want those bastards to win, right?"

Gray was filled with rage, like a reckless fugitive, like a furious child.

"Damn, say something! What should I do to help you survive and kill those bastards!"

Gray’s eyes moistened; he didn’t want to die insignificantly like this. He wanted to do something, "I can’t do it, but I know you can!"

He was merely a Prayer Believer. Facing the vast world, Gray’s rebellion couldn’t affect those giants, but he knew that this dying fellow before him could change it all.

The Shadow King didn’t know what to say; Gray was so small, yet at this moment, he seemed so tall, like a mountain.

For a greater goal, Gray was willing to forsake his own hatred.

"You’ll die," the Shadow King said.

"If my death could become a clod on the Devil’s grave, then wouldn’t my death be worth it?"

Gray inserted two Secret Swords into the ground before the Shadow King, mustering all his courage, he shouted, "Tell me, what should I do?"

The Shadow King felt an inexplicable warmth, like a fire burning within Gray, unleashing unimaginable power, supporting his nearly liquefied body as he struggled to sit up, raising his hand to rest on Gray’s shoulder.

"I possess a Blessing similar to the First-Sealed King, but my Blessing isn’t restricted by bloodline; it’s constrained by the other party," the Shadow King solemnly said, "Only those willing to sacrifice for me will be affected by my Blessing."

"So the real Second Seat was sacrificed this way, in your place?" Gray murmured, the mysteries of the secret war becoming clearer.

"Yes."

The Shadow King responded with difficulty; it was a memory he’d rather not revisit.

Leviathan promised him power but required him to repay in the future.

Thus, the secret war erupted, the Second Seat knew his own power, so he chose to let himself survive, dying through soul annihilation, preserving the perfect flesh.

This gave the First-Sealed King a chance to survive, but also gave himself the capital to make a comeback.

As long as he reclaimed that body...

"So that’s why you refuse to abandon this decaying body?" Gray understood the Shadow King’s persistence.

This broken body wasn’t just about the Seeker of Glory’s power; it was also the body of his friend, teacher, and comrade.

"I want you to swear," Gray cursed, "I want you to win! Win against them!"

The Shadow King opened his mouth wide, foamy blood frothing from his throat; this was the second oath of his life, swearing with his soul.

"I swear."

Gray kneeled on one knee, filled with pain, yet felt a rare joy.

"I pledge allegiance to you, King Xilin."

...

Gray first felt endless agony, as if being tossed into a meat grinder, every inch of muscle, every cell screaming as this was the pain continually endured by the other.

His vision gradually cleared, and Gray saw a familiar figure facing away from him.

It was his figure, but beneath the shell, the soul was entirely different.

He swung the Blood Transfer Sword, slashing out a crimson cross.

Space cracked open, revealing multiple rifts. The edges distorted spatial perception as if mixing countless lines together, well-organized. Almost simultaneously, arcs and blood surged at the edges of the rift, seemingly emitting endless currents and blood from each fissure.

He took a final glance at Gray, nodded gently, turned and stepped into the Cross Sword Light, the fissured space beginning to close until it vanished.

In the dim, silent world, only Gray remained trapped within this dying body; in extreme pain, Gray felt an inexplicable calm.

Gray knew he would become one of countless, becoming that small victor of the war.

One among many.

Thinking of this, Gray felt his life had value, including Milasha’s part, a sense of fulfillment soothing all his inner pain.

Gray closed his eyes; overhead rocks crumbled, the First Seat shrieked, Skull Scythe swung, slicing away all things in the world.

In the pervasive dust, terrifying chewing sounds echoed.

The First Seat’s figure gradually emerged, wiping pus-like blood from the corner of his mouth. The sensation of devouring the enemy filled him with unprecedented satisfaction.

Propped up by the Great Scythe, the First Seat then hung the "Shadow King’s" head on the scythe’s blade like a trophy. Just as he admired the enemy’s death, he noticed the near-mummified head bore a smile of satisfaction.

The First Seat didn’t understand; he’d never understood what his brother thought, just like he didn’t understand why he rejected immortality when invited.

But fortunately, it was all over. He thought to himself.