It was remarkable for her to survive for three years when she was thrown into an uninhabited island filled with beasts at the age of three. She had already lost count of the number of life-and-death situations she had encountered by the age of six. There were all kinds of battles she had to fight—against beasts, against illnesses, against pain, against loneliness, against herself. After her tears were drained dry, she understood the cruel reality of massacring! Massacre! Massacre! Or die.
She possessed the purest instincts of massacring because she had undergone countless of battles. She had undergone countless cruel battles that were to kill or be killed.
After engaging in countless massacres, she had affirmed the meaning behind life, so how could that be swayed?
How could her thoughts of massacre which were colder and tougher than ice mountains be wavered because of an appreciation of his intelligence?
