Under the clear, bright moonlight, Moen’s middle finger was especially conspicuous.

Unfortunately, the Moon of Silence cared nothing for Moen's insolence, nor did it bother to ponder the meaning of his gestures or words. In truth, the banshee’s prayer, which had incurred an early price, merely forced its gaze to linger momentarily.

The Moon of Silence soon averted its gaze. The blue moon hanging over the heavens was still mesmerizingly bewitching, but the spine-chilling aura had already dissipated. Yet, the restraints binding Moen remained unbroken.

After all, it was the gaze of a dark god. Just a fleeting glance was enough to plunge Moen, a mere second-tier fighter, into eternal damnation.

“Giggle, it seems our Moen has finally decided to behave,” purred the banshee, slithering forward while swaying her serpent tail. Her waist bent elegantly, and she unceremoniously sat down on Moen’s chest.

“So, can you still say those big words just now? Still have the guts to say them out loud?”

“I didn’t exaggerate at all. But you…” Moen locked eyes with the banshee and suddenly chuckled.

“To think you were so startled that you summoned the Moon itself—this really did take me by surprise.”

“Against an enemy like Moen, who seems to have an endless supply of tricks up his sleeve, there’s no such thing as being too cautious,” the banshee said with a bewitching smile. Her gaze flitted inquisitively across Moen’s face.

“Look at you, Moen, you don’t seem scared at all.”

“Why should I be scared?”

“Because you’re about to die.”

“Really? And how exactly will you kill me?”

“How to kill you, hmm… let me think...” The banshee truly appeared to ponder this for a moment. Then her eyes dropped lower, fixing on his chest.

“It looks… quite appetizing. Such a waste that Anna Kablin didn’t eat it.” The banshee’s eyes glimmered faintly. At this moment, a deeply buried jealousy resurfaced, stirring chaotic emotions within her.

Her composure shook. She leaned down and tore open Moen’s shirt, her fingertips gliding lightly over his chest.

“If I can’t replace Anna Kablin as the exalted divine heir, perhaps I could take her place and finish her unfinished business. That doesn’t sound too bad.”

The banshee flicked out a forked tongue, licked her lips, and lowered her gaze to meet Moen’s eyes. She giggled, “Moen Campbell, I’m going to… eat your heart.”

“Eat… my heart?” Moen murmured softly, his eyes momentarily vacant, as if he had gone stupid.

The banshee mistook this for fear setting in and grinned all the more gleefully.

But Moen was not afraid. He simply glanced beyond her—at the sky, the clouds, the moon, and the torrential rain pouring down.

Then his gaze lowered again, falling back on the banshee. At this moment, raindrops fell into his eyes, rendering everything in the world blurry. The cacophony of noise still echoed in his ears; the scent of blood from both the banshee and himself tickled his nose. The banshee sat straddling his chest, and in the haziness, her slender waist appeared all the more seductive.

A composition suffused with death unveiled itself before Moen—eerily familiar.

This… was his prophetic dream.

“Ha… hahaha! So that’s it. I see it now!” Moen suddenly laughed heartily, his voice brimming with revelation.

“So it happens here!”

“What are you laughing at?” The banshee furrowed her brow, puzzled.

Is there something funny about approaching your demise?

“I’m happy.”

“What’s there to be happy about?”

“The worst-case scenario didn’t happen. Of course, I’m happy. Dying doesn’t matter—this is happiness worth dying for!” Moen’s eyes gleamed brighter than ever, his expression overflowing with genuine excitement.

Naturally, this was because Moen’s greatest fear was that the figure in his prophetic dream… was his senior sister.

It wasn’t that he feared actually dying at her hands. Rather, he was terrified she would truly consume his heart and stain herself with this vile filth.

Now, it seemed, none of that would come to pass.

The person in the prophetic dream turned out to be the banshee.

Although he was indeed trapped in a dire situation just as the dream had foretold, and the next moment his heart would likely be gouged out and devoured by the banshee, Moen still felt a deep, sincere sense of relief.

Yet, this raw and genuine joy looked utterly bizarre in the banshee’s eyes.

Would a normal person laugh moments before their death?

“You’ve gone mad,” the banshee squinted, her expression sharp.

As a disciple of the Moon of Silence, she naturally possessed abilities pertaining to the mind; among these, suggestion was one of her tools.

Yet just a small scan of his thoughts assured her: no, Moen was not insane.

If he wasn’t mad… then why this incomprehensible behavior?

Anomalies always point to something sinister. And doubly so when dealing with a duke’s son with endless tricks hidden up his sleeve.

And he had, earlier, said: it’s not the worst outcome…

The banshee abruptly stood up, attentively scanning her surroundings.

The dark-shrouded streets were deathly silent. At that moment, even the distant clash between the Silencers and the moon beasts had come to a temporary halt.

But this quiet only made her feel more uneasy. Cautious by nature and always someone who layered on contingencies, the banshee couldn’t shake the feeling that things were slipping out of her control.

Looking down at Moen, she demanded sharply, “What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?!”

“Tricks?” Moen seemed briefly caught off guard, then raised an eyebrow. “Of course I have my trump cards. But do you think I would tell you about them?”

No lie.

The banshee could instantly discern no deception in Moen’s words.

“External assistance? A hidden item? Or perhaps… an ambush waiting in the wings?”

Moen was pinned in place, bound by the moon itself, completely incapable of movement, let alone escape. This meant… his trump card had to be external!

The banshee grew more certain there was something concealed in the shadows of the alley—or worse, something was drawing closer!

“No, I won’t allow that!”

Hers was a sharp glare now stained with malice. The banshee sneered coldly at Moen:

“Do you even know who I am? I’ve been meticulously prepared for moments like this. I absolutely will not allow anyone to interrupt my feast!”

As she spoke, she spat out a small, perfectly round orb, which she then casually hurled to the ground.

In an instant, dense black mist radiated outward, forming into a semi-spherical dome that enveloped an area around ten meters in diameter.

“This is…”

“This is a tool bestowed to me by the moon itself. It is an absolute isolation zone forged from a fragment of its own authority—the Dark Moon Mist!” cried the banshee with fevered passion.

“The dark mist obliterates all traces, severs all senses, and disorients any trespasser who dares to enter. It transforms this space into a dead zone where no one can intrude!”

“Obliterates all traces? Severs all senses?” Moen’s face froze briefly before quirking into an odd expression. “Pardon me for asking, but does this ‘all’… include divine powers as well?”

“Of course,” the banshee returned with a vicious smile. “Even if several divine-blessed individuals battled within, there wouldn’t be the slightest trace left for the outside world to detect. So don’t even think about crying for help.”

“I see…” Moen’s expression turned even more peculiar. A moment later, he let out a long sigh.

“Miss Banshee, I used to think you were a thorough villain. But now I realize… I was wrong.”

“Hmm?”

“I was prepared to risk it all, to go for self-destruction. But you—so determined to stop me, you even took out such a prized treasure as your ace. How could I not be touched by such sincerity?” If he weren’t immobilized, Moen might’ve shed a tear of gratitude on the spot.

The banshee grew increasingly perplexed.

At this moment, however, the unease in her heart didn’t wane in the slightest. On the contrary, it intensified to an unbearable degree.

She had already severed all input from the outside world—so why did this feeling of unease persist?

“No matter.”

The banshee clenched her teeth, resolve hardening. She decided she’d kill Moen first and deal with the rest later.

But just as her hand reached for Moen’s heart…

The sun rose.