The blood moon hung high, and the feast began. The main hall of the Jin Clan blazed with light. A crimson carpet stretched from the entrance to the elevated dais, flanked by wolf nobles adorned in beast patterns, their bloodlines ancient and proud. Tonight was the century's "Blood Moon Banquet," an event reserved only for pure-blood Alphas and hereditary clan leaders. Yet, as the chime rang, a man cloaked in frost stepped onto the forbidden red carpet—followed by a woman in scarlet. His name was Ethan, nameless, without lineage—the last wandering soul of the Ironclaw Tribe. Hers was Isabella, once the brightest general of the Silverclaw Clan, now branded a traitor and hunted across the land. “They’re mad,” someone sneered. “How dare they set foot on the Jin Clan’s sacred ground?” But madder still—Ethan walked straight to the highest seat, pulled out the empty chair beside the Jin patriarch, and sat. Silence gripped the hall. “What are you?” the Jin heir roared, rising from his seat, fangs bared. “Get down! This is no place for filth like you!” Ethan said nothing. He gently brushed petal-like snow from Isabella’s shoulder and whispered, “What do you think, my queen?” The words detonated through the chamber. Guards surged forward, three bone blades pressed to Ethan’s throat. Nobles grinned, eager to watch these “stray dogs” torn apart. But Isabella slowly rose, her red gown cascading like a waterfall of blood. She surveyed the assembly of elites, voice calm yet cutting: “You call me a traitor? Then tell me—who allowed humans to slaughter my entire clan? And what did you do? Nothing. You watched.” No one answered. Only the crackling of candle flames broke the silence. Then, from the far end of the hall, a soft laugh echoed. All turned. From the shadows emerged a figure draped in gray, his face hidden beneath the veil of moonlight. With each step, an oppressive aura flooded the air, suffocating all present. “Thorne… Alpha?” someone trembled, uttering the name. The legendary former Wolf King—banished, forgotten, a being of myth who had vanished a century ago. He stopped before Ethan, studying him for a long moment, then knelt on one knee, head bowed. “Hail the true heir’s return.” Chaos erupted. Thorne raised a hand, pointing to an old scar on Ethan’s wrist—not merely a wound, but an ancient sigil, a mark that only the primordial bloodline of the first Wolf God could awaken. “You thought he was just an orphan of Ironclaw?” Thorne scoffed. “Wrong. He is the rightful heir erased by usurpers. The Jin Clan’s so-called ‘legitimacy’ is nothing but a lie that has lasted a hundred years.” His gaze shifted to Isabella. “And she—is no traitor. She is the only Silverclaw chief who refused to bow to the false king. The woman destined to rule the Crescent Throne beside him.” Stillness cut like a blade. Then, an elder noble shrieked, “Absurd! Even if they are the chosen ones, they must undergo the ‘Blood Oath Trial’! Fail, and they die!” Ethan stood, eyes sweeping the hall, finally meeting Isabella’s. She smiled, reaching out to clasp his hand. “Then let’s see,” he said. “If this world is worthy of our fate.” As the words left his lips, the blood moon above split open—a fissure tearing across its face, as if ancient eyes were now gazing down upon the earth. Who would be the next sacrifice? It no longer mattered. Because— the storm had arrived. To escape Vincent’s harassment, Isabella holds a tournament to find a strong warrior to marry. Unexpectedly, an unknown rogue named Ethan, accompanied by his daughter Lily, wins the competition and becomes Isabella’s mate. But Ethan is not just any rogue. He is Lycan.After the two switch roles, Vincent launches a surprise attack, forcing Isabella into a desperate battle. In order not to burden Ethan and Lily, Isabella chooses to face Vincent alone, but is quickly overwhelmed and faces imminent danger. At the critical moment, Ethan then easily defeats Vincent—becoming the hero who saves the damsel in distress.