That night, a blood-red moon shone upon my face. The man wore a battle robe and armor, held a sword in his hand, and wore a mask. Blood still dripped from his blade.
That night, rivers of blood flowed and countless bodies lay scattered, just like the moon above, terrifyingly red.
That night, every member of the Nether Society was killed. The leadership was enraged and issued a secret order to identify the real culprit.
That night, a boy slept soundly while an old man fought for his life. With his dying strength, the old man delivered the Nether King’s Token to the boy’s home.
That night, the boy dreamed of an enemy standing within reach, blood covering his entire body.
That night was destined to change many things. The city seemed peaceful on the surface, but beneath it, undercurrents were already stirring.
After that night, the boy led the Nether Society, purged traitors, wielded the Nether Token, and restored the Society. One man and one Society, protecting the peace of the world; one man and one great deed, safeguarding an age of prosperity.
One stroke that shocks the world, one stroke that decides life and death.
