Ahei huddled in the shadow of the tower's broken wall, his murky eyes reflecting the flickering firelight.

He clutched half a moldy black bread in his hand, saliva dripping from his chubby chin onto the snow.

In front of the fat man, a defender's bronze shield was shattered by a werewolf's claws, then a wolf blade sliced through the defender's throat. A gush of hot blood spurted from the man's neck.

"Heh-heh… heh-heh… wuwu…"

Ahei's throat emitted a muffled whimper. He stuffed the half bread into a crack in the broken wall behind him, though he didn't know why he was doing it.

Pain… it hurts…

The werewolf, covered in black fur, stepped over the defender's corpse and pounced on another Frostwall swordsman.

A flurry of clashing steel followed, then something was thrown at Ahei's feet.

The swordsman's head!

Its eyes were wide open in eternal shock!

Ahei stared at those unblinking eyes, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. A sharp, icy chill shot up from his soles to his skull, making it hard to breathe.

Pain… no… it hurts so much…

In the Narrow Square, werewolves' blades were like the scythes of death, reaping the lives of Frostwall defenders. One human after another fell, blood, fire, and corpses weaving a macabre waltz of "Death's Laughter."

"Aah—Aah—Aah—"

Witnessing this horrific scene, a searing pain pierced his skull like a sharp thorn.

Hurt! Hurt! Hurt!

The ice pick of memory finally shattered his confusion. A flash of silver light burst in his mind.

Bang!

The walls, werewolves, corpses, embers—all vanished.

He saw a knight in brown armor and cape cantered through golden wheat fields outside a village.

Sunlight glinted off his shoulder plates, casting warm amber hues.

Villagers stopped to bow to the knight, and a group of children chased his horse, cheering.

"Lord Brown Cloak! Lord Brown Cloak! Lord Brown Cloak!"

The knight smiled, the brown gem in his sword hilt matching the color of his eyes.

He was the famous Brown Cloak Knight of the United Kingdom—three-time champion of the Royal City Tournament.

"Lord Brown Cloak, come drink at my tavern!" The still-charming tavern mistress leaned in her doorway, waving at him.

"My lord, this is a sachet my daughter embroidered…" The old village chief handed him a silk pouch, trembling.

The knight nodded in thanks but declined all offers. His attention was fixed only on her—Ah Zhong.

She was the village beauty of Nine Fields Village.

The first time the Brown Cloak Knight saw Ah Zhong, she bent to draw water from a stream. The breeze lifted the hem of her rough cloth skirt to reveal a smooth, pale ankle.

He reined in his horse, admiring her back.

"Hello, Lord Brown Cloak." Ah Zhong turned with a smile, water droplets still clinging to her hands.

In that moment, his heart beneath the armor thundered louder than a war drum.

After that, the Brown Cloak Knight's patrol route always "happened" to pass through Nine Fields Village.

He gave Ah Zhong countless gifts: silk from the Royal City, large pearls from the South Sea, a gilded vanity mirror from Gold Harbor, a glittering jade necklace from Long Summer City. But Ah Zhong shook her head and refused them all.

"My lord, these don't belong to me."

The knight noticed that whenever Ah Zhong said this, her eyes would drift past him to the young woodcutter at the village entrance.

The woodcutter's name was Ah Lai—plain-looking, quiet, making his living by chopping wood. The knight never imagined he would be Ah Zhong's chosen one.

But one day, the knight saw them walking side by side in the drizzle. Ah Lai held the umbrella tilted toward Ah Zhong, completely ignoring his own half-soaked body. Ah Zhong smiled at him—a smile she had never given the knight.

In that moment, the Brown Cloak Knight finally realized he had lost.

Jealousy, like a slow-acting poison, began to gnaw at the knight's soul.

Why? Am I, a knight, not even good enough for a commoner?

No! I won't lose! I'll never admit defeat!

Just as the knight's jealousy burned hot, a werewolf attack struck Nine Fields Village, killing many villagers. As a divine people, the knight was naturally tasked with hunting the werewolf.

A glint of malice flashed in his eyes—revenge was at hand!

The knight immediately accused Ah Lai of being the werewolf.

The villagers erupted in chaos. Ah Zhong rushed forward to stand in front of Ah Lai, her voice trembling: "Lord Brown Cloak, you must be wrong! How could Ah Lai be a werewolf!"

Watching his beloved defend his rival, the knight's jealousy flared even hotter.

"Enough. Vote." He said coldly.

The vote results came quickly.

Thanks to the knight's accusation, Ah Lai received almost all the votes—only Ah Zhong stood by him, and even Ah Lai himself chose to abstain, as if he had accepted his fate in advance.

On the day of the execution, villagers tied Ah Lai to a stone pillar. When the old village chief lit the pyre, Ah Zhong let out a shrill scream: "We'll die together!"

She rushed into the flames without hesitation, throwing herself over Ah Lai.

"A knight who leads blindly will only get everyone killed! I'll go first, and watch you lose from below!" Her eyes blazed with hatred.

The flames quickly engulfed the pair.

The knight's heart ached like it was being torn apart. The mix of jealousy and despair almost suffocated him. But to protect his reputation, he gritted his teeth and refused to admit his mistake.

That night, the werewolf appeared again—and its target was the knight!

"Hypocritical knight! The greatest warrior of the wolf race challenges you! Heh-heh-heh—"

The werewolf swooped down from the hillside, claws tearing through the thatched roof, its mocking laughter echoing through the night.

The Brown Cloak Knight's sword hand trembled violently. The werewolf's direct attack didn't just humiliate him—it shattered his confidence.

The knight fought the werewolf. Distracted and distraught, his swordplay became clumsy and disorganized. The werewolf, however, struck like lightning, its attack a relentless tide. After dozens of rounds, the knight's blade left two deep, bone-deep cuts on the werewolf's face, but the wolf blade pierced his abdomen, pinning him to the stone pillar at the village entrance.

"Brown Cloak Knight, you're nothing but this! Heh-heh-heh—"

The searing physical pain and crushing humiliation broke the knight completely.

I am the Brown Cloak Knight… I will never admit defeat…

I am Brown Cloak… I didn't lose…

Brown Cloak… didn't lose…

Brown Cloak… didn't lose…

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the ground, surrounded by flames. A kind-faced old man stood beside him.

"Luckily, the witch gave me an antidote when I left the Royal City. Your body hadn't gone cold yet, so I was able to save you." The old man's eyes were filled with concern.

"Brown Cloak…"

"What happened here? Did you encounter a werewolf?"

"Brown Cloak…" His pupils were dilated, repeating the word over and over.

"What's your name?" The old man frowned.

"Brown Cloak…"

"Heh?"

"Heh?"

"Alright, Ahei. The whole village was slaughtered—you have no family left. Why not come with me to the Frostwall?"

"Heh…"

The old man sighed and dragged him onto a carriage.

As the carriage jostled northward, his memories shattered piece by piece.

He forgot his identity as a knight, his past glory, even how to wield a sword…

He only remembered one vague, simple name—Ahei.