The Iron Throne: Year 117 of the Apocalypse

When Lu Mingyan woke up, he had transmigrated into an apocalypse that had already lasted 117 years.

The most powerful combat support chip of the 23rd century, Pangu, had come with him. It was his golden finger in this world, and the only “person” he knew in this life.

The Beastfolk thrive among the ruins, while humanity huddles behind the last few city walls like trapped animals waiting to die.

They call him a monster because he shows no mercy when killing Beastfolk.

They call him a hero because he held back the fall of an entire city all by himself.

The Federation puts him in chains and calls him a “weapon.”

The Resistance places him on a pedestal and calls him “hope.”

But he simply sits on a broken wall, wiping his blade, and asks the emotionless voice in his mind:

“Pangu, can you figure out which of them will turn on me first?”

A line of text slowly appears on the screen:

"Win probability: 47.3%"

"Optimal solution: Fight through the Beastfolk throne"

"Host, are you afraid?"

He sheathes his blade, stands, and smiles.

“Yeah. But sitting here won’t change anything. Let’s go.”

One winter, many years into the apocalypse, Lu Ming walks alone toward the heart of Beastfolk territory.

Behind him lies a city on the verge of collapse. Above him hangs a sky that has been sunken for a century.