The surroundings of the Holy Church had become a blood-soaked battlefield, littered with the lifeless corpses of Holy Knights and devout followers.
As Yuan and his wives moved forward, they left behind a trail of carnage and destruction. Many had fallen at their hands—once-proud Holy Knights now lying motionless on the cold ground, their souls ripped from their bodies.
Their pride and honor had been crushed in an instant. None of them had anticipated their end, nor did they have the chance to utter a single word before death claimed them. They died without ever seeing the faces of their killers.
The entire area had fallen into a chilling silence. Not a sound could be heard—only the soft rustle of cold wind and the gentle fall of snow added to the eerie stillness that blanketed the bloodstained ground.
Amidst that ghostly quiet, Yuan and his wives advanced toward the main entrance of the Holy Church. There were no guards stationed in front, an unsettling sign in itself.
