Hello, is this a letter addressed to Demon Fortress?

The atmosphere fell silent again.

Leah leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed, her grey ponytail hanging down her shoulder.

Her gaze lingered on Morgan's face for a long time before she spoke.

"Time is running out."

Her voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a pebble falling into a deep well, carrying a dull echo.

"This time, the City of a Thousand Towers mobilized almost all of its surrounding forces, except for the legendary mages guarding the magic towers."

"Edwin brought two legendary mid-rank assassins, along with the extraordinary high-ranking members of the core families, totaling nearly a hundred people."

She paused for a moment.

"They won't leave empty-handed."

All eyes turned to Morgan.

Cedric was still standing by the stone table, his left arm hanging down, his brows furrowed slightly from the swelling in his shoulder blade, but his eyes never left Morgan.

He is waiting.

Waiting for an answer.

Morgan did not look up.

His hands were supporting his forehead, his fingertips piercing through his silvery-white hair, like a hollowed-out stone statue.

Morgan.

Cedric spoke, his voice no longer hoarse as before, but rather eerily calm.

"If you choose to surrender, then I will leave the shelter."

Leah's brow twitched, but she didn't say anything.

Cedric took a step forward, his boots making a soft crunching sound as they stepped on the gravel.

He bent down to bring his line of sight to Morgan's.

The things churning in those blood-red eyes were very complex.

Anger, disappointment, resentment, and a hint of unwavering determination, suppressed deep within, bordering on despair.

"I would rather die with them than bow down to the criminals who committed such heinous acts against my family and my comrades."

His voice was soft, but every word was like a nail, driven into the ears of everyone present.

"If you choose to give up."

"Then... I will save everyone in my own way."

Morgan's fingers trembled slightly.

Cedric stared intently into his eyes.

He was searching, looking for something he wanted to see inside.

Decisiveness, courage, even if it's just a trace of resentment.

But all he could read was exhaustion and a deep, heart-wrenching weakness.

Cedric's eyes changed.

It wasn't anger, it was disappointment.

Then, that disappointment turned into a sense of relief.

He straightened up, took a step back, and his voice regained its hoarse, sandpaper-like texture.

"Morgan, I hope your concessions... will get you the results you want."

He turned around and walked to a corner of the hall.

There were several weapons and armor piled up there.

He crouched down and hung the scattered pieces of equipment on his body one by one.

The dagger was sheathed in the leather sheath at his waist, the short blade was tucked into his back waist, the breastplate was fastened, and the shoulder armor was adjusted.

His left shoulder was noticeably stiff, and the swelling and pain made his fingers less responsive.

But he gritted his teeth and pulled all the straps to their tightest possible position.

Leah looked at him and remained silent for a few moments.

Then she sighed.

The breath was long and deep, as if something had been pulled out of the chest cavity by the roots.

She loosened her arms, straightened up from the stone pillar, and walked to Cedric's side.

She didn't say anything, but simply picked up the remaining leather armor from the ground and silently put it on.

Then she tied her loose long hair back into a ponytail and tightened her belt.

He pulled out the dagger, glanced at the blade, and then put it back in.

The two were fully armed.

Cedric didn't look at Lydia, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

It wasn't a smile, but rather an indescribable, tacit understanding.

He turned and walked towards the entrance of the hall.

Leah followed behind him.

Hewlett stood silently to the side, his shield resting against his leg.

He watched Cedric and Lydia's retreating figures, remaining silent for a long time.

Then he turned around and walked to the two captured half-demon warriors.

The two half-demon warriors knelt on the ground, their wrists purple from the ropes binding them, heads bowed, not daring to look at anyone.

Hewlett crouched down and used his dagger to cut the ropes binding their wrists.

His movements were very gentle, as if he were afraid of cutting their skin.

After the rope broke, deep red marks appeared on the wrists of the two soldiers, the skin and flesh were torn open, and beads of blood seeped out.

Hewlett didn't look at the wounds; he simply gently lowered their hands and patted one of them on the shoulder.

"They won't succeed."

His voice wasn't loud, but the hall was quiet, and every word was clear.

"For an assassin, losing stealth is like losing a leg."

"Under this vast veil of perception, Cedric and Lydia's movements were almost entirely exposed to the enemy's eyes."

"Edwin will not stand by and watch them go to rescue people."

"They can't defeat Edwin, but they also can't allow themselves to fall into Edwin's hands."

"This may be the last time we see them, Morgan."

Morgan's fingers gripped the fabric on his knees tightly.

"I know."

The sound was very soft, like a falling leaf.

He turned his head and looked at Hewlett.

This human knight was in his early forties, with lines etched on his face by the hardships of life.

But one can still see the composure he developed in the aristocratic circles of Dawn City when he was young in his eyes.

Born into a prestigious family, he entered the ranks of legends in his early forties.

He could have enjoyed a life of luxury in Dawn City.

They have grand mansions, servants, endless salaries, and countless banquets to attend.

As a result, he followed a group of half-demons to this remote forbidden area.

They were starving, hunted, and couldn't even get a full meal.

"Hewlett."

Morgan's voice sounded somewhat hoarse.

"You can leave now."

Hewlett looked at him without saying a word.

"You do not have the blood of a half-demon."

Morgan's voice was flat, as if he were talking about something that didn't need to be discussed.

"The sensory barrier above you can't detect you, so Edwin won't stop you from leaving, after all..."

He gave a wry smile.

Even if you did something like helping a half-demon escape from the City of a Thousand Towers, you are still a member of the Silver Hand.

"The Silver Hand Knights of Dawn City, the legendary knight Hewlett Grant."

"No matter how arrogant Edwin is, he wouldn't want to break ties with Silverhand."

Hewlett remained silent for a few moments.

Then he shook his head.

"I'm not leaving."

Morgan opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something.

Hewlett raised his hand, interrupting him.

"I came here not because of you, nor because of the half-demon."

His voice wasn't loud, but every word was steady.

"It's because of morality and faith."