Aura, Dead

He stood in a pool of blood. Under the messy silk, a pair of tired red pupils shone. His body was covered with wounds. Knife wounds, sword wounds, magic wounds... Every wound was bleeding... They were all consuming his life. At his feet, there was a hill piled up with corpses. He stood there, the demon sword held in his right hand - An Mie, still dripping with the blood of those corpses. The bloody demonic pupils on the sword flashed, and the countless chains drilled out of the hilt had eroded his entire right shoulder, completely integrating the sword with his hand. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.