Read Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Novel by Only For You Updated 2025 -26 - Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Chapter 3323

Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) Chapter 3323

Byron cackled, his voice thick with twisted pleasure.

“Think you can outrun it? These desires come from inside you—from your own body, your own heart. The Demonic Art reaches beyond death itself. There’s no escaping it.”

A cold sneer spread across his face.

Suddenly, a massive cloud of black mist—threaded with a sickly pink haze—erupted outward, blanketing the entire sky above the Umbral Peak Sect.

Chaos followed instantly.

Disciples below began to unravel. Some howled in agony. Others gasped and panted like wild animals. Those with stronger discipline dropped to the ground, sitting cross-legged, teeth clenched as they fought to hold onto their sanity. The weaker ones collapsed entirely, writhing in the dirt in humiliating, uncontrollable ways.

Monty’s face turned a furious, desperate shade Andrew had never seen before.

“Have you lost your mind?!” he roared. “Stop the Demonic Art! Your own disciples are being destroyed by it!”

Byron didn’t even react.

Within the black mist, only two glowing red eyes appeared.

“Monty,” his voice echoed coldly, “who do you think you are to tell me what to do?

“Get on your knees.”

A crushing pressure slammed down.

Even with his peak martial god strength, Monty dropped to his knees in shock.

“H-How is this possible?”

From the mist, a twisted face emerged—aged and shriveled like a dried vine. Hideous. Withered beyond belief. It bore no resemblance to the refined Eastern Wanderer from before.

Yet Monty recognized it.

Terror flooded him.

“W-Wait… You’re not Byron Ashby… Are you the founding ancestor of the Umbral Peak Sect?”

Byron sneered.

“Byron Ashby was merely another identity. And you truly believed I was your junior? Foolish thing.

“I am the true ancestor of the Umbral Peak Sect.”

His voice dripped with pride.

“I only disguised myself with that identity and appearance to cultivate the Demonic Art. After three hundred years of work… I’ve finally perfected it.”

Shock gave way to manic delight on Monty’s face.

“What an honor to stand in your presence!”

Byron ignored him completely.

His full attention had already shifted back to Andrew—focused, relentless, predatory.

The Demonic Art struck at the deepest part of a person—the tangled web of emotion, longing, memory, and desire every human carried within.

No one alive was immune.

Andrew gritted his teeth.

He had to admit—the old monster was terrifyingly real.

A glowing protective barrier expanded around him, barely holding back the corrosive black mist. His mind raced, searching for a counter.

Then—

Crack.

A sharp sound echoed inside him.

His heart jolted. For a split second, he thought his barrier had shattered.

But it hadn’t.

Byron burst into laughter.

“I can feel your soul. Vast. Powerful. But your heart… it’s full of tangled emotions and suppressed desire. Perfect.

“You’re exactly what I need. Once I refine you, my power will rise to a new level.

“Demon Waltz—activate!”

With a furious roar, the mist around Andrew’s barrier began to boil.

Alluring figures formed within it—shadowy silhouettes circling, dancing, striking provocative poses as they pressed against the glowing shield.

Andrew’s will was solid as bedrock.

But his emotions?

They were an open field without walls.

Under the relentless assault of the Demon Waltz, his defenses began to slip. His thoughts flickered violently, like static on an old television screen.

Then a scene appeared.

Unbidden. Uncontrolled.

A woman with straight bangs knelt on a wooden floor. Her frame was slender but curved gracefully. She looked up at him.

“Andrew,” she called softly, her voice gentle and sweet.

At first, he thought it was Isabelle. She sometimes spoke his name like that.

But the voice wasn’t quite the same.

And this woman was taller. Far more mature in figure.

She lifted her head fully.

A flush colored her cheeks. Her eyes carried a clear, unhidden longing. A faint sheen glistened at the corner of her lips.

She whispered his name again—

Then lunged toward him.

Andrew tried to pull back.

He ordered his body to move.

It didn’t listen.

His arms wrapped around her instead. His hands moved without his permission, pulling her close.

Shock slammed into him as he finally saw her face clearly.

He recognized her.

It was the covert artist from Throne City—the woman who had once disguised herself as Nyx.