The Golem Mage - Chapter 385: A Blaze Grudge 2.

Have you ever seen exposing holy vein?

With so many people in the entertainment industry, the most unpleasant thing for Ye Chen is Ren Jing’s hypocrisy. Ren Jing looks polite and amiable, but Ye Chen couldn’t listen to half a sentence he says.

How does it feel to lose your parents at the tender age of four?Imagine the trauma, the psychological scars. Now, take it a step further—what if they died right in front of you?That was Kael’s reality. As a young boy, he watched his parents perish while desperately protecting a golden coin.At the time, Kael had no idea of its significance. He only knew that their deaths were tied to it.Fleeing from his father’s murderers, he was forced to survive on the unforgiving streets, learning to fight, steal, and endure.Twelve years later, he had transformed into one of the deadliest assassins the world had ever known.He had no official title. No known employer. No traceable identity. Just a calling card.They called him The Coin Flipper.Not because he left his mark, but because after every kill—just as the body hit the ground, as the last breath escaped—he would flip a coin.No one knew why. Some believed it was mockery, a cruel reminder that fate had turned against them. Others thought it was ritual.But what they didn’t know was that each coin held power—literal currency of the Core System embedded in Kael’s soul.Every kill earned him millions. Digital fortunes funneled into off-grid accounts with each confirmed target. Blood turned into bounty, pain into profit.And one thing was certain: if you saw the glint of a coin spinning through the air, death had already found you.

Jianghu was in turmoil, an era of great strife. The leader of Great Qin wielded the Mo Blade, leaving the world battered and bruised. The ageless figures of Jianghu crouched upon the mountains, and with a single turn, they cast the entire world below them. Strong men measured the earth with their feet, and heroes of Jianghu could cleave the heavens with one sword, yet in the blink of an eye, they were drunk in the embrace of beauties. The Taoist carried his sword, the Scholar drunk on wine. Wearing tattered clothes, a beggar grasped a rotten branch and dared to storm the ancestral hall of the Taoist Sect. On the willow-lined causeway, in the long pavilion, a man who had sat withered for thirty years turned and stepped out, holding a peach blossom, with a flick of his wrist, he shattered ten miles of red candles. The era of Great Qin was renamed the Great Yuan Era. The youth with the Wooden Sword left his mountain village behind.