The silver blade flashed like lightning, and fresh blood blossomed into crimson flowers in the sinister alley.
In the last moment of her life, Miranda finally understood the words the Deceitful Fog had once said to her—
"It could be you."
"Or it need not be you."
On the other side, a hundred meters away on a rooftop next to a stone chimney.
Luo Yan, controlling the circling crows in the mist, witnessed everything that happened in the alley.
The killer ultimately did not escape the fate of death; the legend of the Undead Alchemist ended with Miranda's name, serving as the foundation for another legend.
Although it was regrettable that the faith power of the Evil God's Apostle couldn't be reclaimed, allowing that windfall to be absorbed by the inactive Saint Sis, compared to that dreadful ritual completing its final step, this was a win for everyone.
"It looks like it's over."
A slight smile curled on Luo Yan's lips.