There were ninety-nine… ninety-nine heartbeats. Ninety-nine screams. Ninety-nine souls, devoured by the fangs of tyranny. Ninety-nine corpses, turned to ash… and one infant—whose cry was not a cry of weakness, but a roar of blood waiting to boil.

When a clan is slaughtered, when bloodlines are ripped from bones, only one question remains: why did you survive?

But survival was not mercy… it was a curse—a different kind of curse.

They sealed the bloodline legacy inside his body—the secrets of his ancestors—and exiled him to the Great Wilderness, a place where not even monsters fought over dead prey.

He had no name. No lineage. No home.

But blood never forgets.

And when it ignites… nothing can extinguish its flame.

This is not a hero’s story.

This… is the beginning of a massacre.

Alright guys, I'm publishing a new novel titled 


As for this other novel, I'm already working on rewriting it.


Chapter 200 - 200