Rising from the Ashes (Andrew) novel Chapter 3323

Byron cackled, his voice dripping with twisted delight. "Think you can run from it? These desires come from inside you, from your own body, your own heart. The Demonic Art reaches beyond death itself. There is no escaping it."

He let out a cold, satisfied sneer. Suddenly, a massive cloud of black mist, threaded through with a sickly pink haze, exploded outward and blanketed the entire sky above the Umbral Peak Sect.

Instantly, the disciples below began to unravel. Some howled, while others gasped and panted like animals. The ones with stronger discipline dropped to the ground and sat cross-legged, gritting their teeth and barely holding on, while the weaker ones collapsed entirely, writhing across the dirt in ways that no one should have to witness.

Monty's face had gone a shade of furious and desperate that Andrew had never seen on him before.

He roared, "Have you lost your mind? Stop the Demonic Art! Your own disciples are being destroyed by it!"

Byron did not even flinch. From within the black mist, only two glowing red eyes appeared.

"Monty, who do you think you are, telling me what to do? Get on your knees."

A crushing wave of pressure slammed down onto Monty. Even with his peak martial god strength, he dropped to his knees in shock.

"H-How is this possible?"

From the black mist emerged a twisted face, aged and shriveled like a dried vine, ugly and withered beyond belief. Compared to the fairly handsome Eastern Wanderer from before, it looked like a completely different person.

Yet, Monty recognized that hideous face all too well. He was overwhelmed with terror.

"W-Wait… You're not Byron Ashby… Are you the founding ancestor of Umbral Peak Sect?"

Seeing Monty's terrified expression, Byron sneered. "Byron Ashby was merely another identity of mine. And you truly believed I was your junior? Foolish thing. I am the true ancestor of the Umbral Peak Sect.

"I only disguised myself with that identity and appearance in order to cultivate the Demonic Art. After 300 years of work, I've finally succeeded!"

After the shock, Monty's fear turned into wild joy. "What an honor to be in your presence!"

Byron did not spare him another glance. He had already turned his full attention back to Andrew, relentless and hunting.

The Demonic Art struck at the innermost part of a person: the tangled mess of emotion, longing, memory, and desire that every human being carried. No one with a heartbeat was immune to it.

Andrew grunted through gritted teeth. He had to admit that the old monster was the real deal.

Her voice was gentle and sweet.

At first, Andrew thought it was Isabelle, because she sometimes called him just as sweetly. However, the voice was not quite the same.

Moreover, this woman was much taller than Isabelle. While Isabelle was flat-chested, this woman was anything but.

Suddenly, the woman raised her head. The flush on her face, the seductive look in her eyes, and the string of saliva at the corner of her lips made it clear what she wanted and what she longed for.

She whispered his name again and then lunged at him.

Andrew tried to pull back. He told his body to move, but it did not listen. His arms closed around her instead, pulling her in, and his hands moved on their own without his permission.

When he finally saw her face, the shock hit him like a punch to the chest.

He recognized her!

It was the female covert artist from Throne City, the one who had once disguised herself as Nyx.