At the centenary ceremony of the Ye family, Ye Wuchen dripped blood into the stone, and the blood vein stone was silent and dull.
"Those who are not of my race will be expelled from the ancestral hall."
The adoptive father looked coldly, and the clan members sneered. He took off the jade pendant from his waist and threw it on the ground, turned around and stepped out of the door of Ye's house. Fang took three steps, and the birthmark on his wrist suddenly burned his skin like a soldering iron, and a memory that had been dormant for sixteen years cracked from the depths of his blood.
Nine blood moons hang in the sky. The man in black armor stood on the top of the mountain of corpses holding a gun. When he looked back, his eyes were the same as his.
"The day my descendants wake up will be the day I return."
Who is he?
Under the underground palace of the ancestral temple, the remains of the ancestors of the founding clan had eight words written in blood: Ye's bloodline has long been replaced.
Not only is he not a waste, but he is not a wild species. The three thousand members of the Ye family are just livestock to be raised.
A piece of "Nine Deaths Against Fate" came to mind. Every time he experiences life and death, he transforms into a dragon pattern. Every time a realm is broken, a certain amount of life will be burned.
The stronger you are, the faster you die.
And the mastermind who had kept the entire Ye family in captivity for three hundred years was slowly opening his eyes from under the Demon-Sealing Abyss.
"The blood food they want to feed is you. The sacrifice they want to wait for is also you."
"Now, do you want to go back?"
