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Leaf Village Hokage

Breathless Blade wielder and divine village chief

In the far reaches of the world, past the scorched ridges and withered bones of civilization, lies Grainshell Hollow, a forgotten village in the Desolate Zone—so far removed from cultivation’s reach that even the wind carries no spirit. Here, life is quiet and brutal. Survival is earned, not promised. Among the drifting ashes and dying roots, a boy is born—small, observant, and eerily silent. His name, like his future, is not remembered by the heavens. One dusk, drawn by an unnatural silence and a flicker of something wrong, he discovers an ancient relic buried beneath the village shrine—a fractured, half-buried fang of something too old to name. It breathes when he touches it. Whispers crawl into his ears. From that moment on, his dreams rot and bleed with visions of storms that devour stars, gods kneeling in smoke, and swords that cry. The villagers begin to vanish. Animals flee before unseen tremors. The sky grows heavy with flickers that move against the sun. The thing in the relic is awakening—so is something older, deeper, watching through the bones of the land. Without cultivation manuals, without sects, without divine bloodlines, the boy must piece together his own path—through instinct, memory, and the broken remnants of a world that abandoned his people. He carves power from stone, learns to move with silence, to cut with weight, and to channel the relic’s breath into his limbs. Every gain costs something—sanity, warmth, connection—but he endures. As the world spirals toward what the old hunters call the Chaos Stage, a time when even gods bleed and stars fall like rain, the boy refuses to run. Instead, he chooses to rebuild—his home, his people, and the land itself. With relic-forged instincts and a blade that does not obey natural law, he leads the remnants of Grainshell against nameless forces that devour truth and corrupt breath. But even as he grows, questions remain. What is the relic truly? Why was it hidden in a place no cultivator remembers? And why do the dead bow to him, even when he has no cultivation name? To survive is not enough. To fight is not enough. He must raise a village that can stand among gods—and spit in their storms. And in the end… how do people call themselves swordsmen, if they do not yield a living, breathing sword?
sunhell · 328 Views

Alpha's village girl

Maya stepped back, her chest heaving as she avoided Damien’s piercing gaze. “I’m not yours,” she said, her voice trembling, though her words were firm. “I never was. I never will be.” He closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hand reaching out to grip the back of her neck, forcing her to meet his storm-filled eyes. “You are mine,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, his breath mingling with hers. “The universe has already decided. You. Are. Mine.” Before she could protest, his lips claimed hers, rough and unyielding, stealing the words she wasn’t sure she wanted to say *********************************************************** She was just a simple village girl, living a quiet life in the heart of the countryside—innocent, kind, and completely unaware of the power her existence holds. When strangers from the city arrived in her village, seeking water and shelter, she thought she was just being hospitable. But scent sparked something primal in the heart of one visitor, her life changed forever. He was not just a man—he was an Alpha. The moment he caught her scent, he knew she was his. But She was human, untouched by the world of wolves and unaware of the dangerous power struggles in his pack. Determined to make her his, the Alpha stays in her village, weaving his way into her father’s trust to win her hand in marriage. But their union is only the beginning of her struggles. ***PLEASE NOT THAT THIS STORY ONLY UPDATES WEEKLY 3 CHAPTER************ *********THIS IS SLOW BURN ROMANCE*****************
Inked_jas · 8.8K Views
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