The stench hit Egon first.
It was thick, suffocating, clinging to the air like rot that had seeped into the very stones.
As Vienna and Noella watched, Egon walked slowly between the iron cages. His expression was calm, but his eyes sharp.
This was it.
One of the most important turning points in the entire story.
And this time, it would belong to him.
His gaze swept across the rows of prisoners until it finally stopped.
There.
"Cough. Cough."
Inside one of the darker cages, an old man lay slumped against the wall, coughing violently. His body was skeletal, his skin pale and stretched thin like paper over bone.
But that wasn't what drew attention.
It was the horns.
Curved, goat-like horns extended from his temples, cracked and worn with age.
Egon's eyes narrowed.
"Martial Emperor Wuhan…"
The name echoed in his mind like a forgotten legend.
