Battle of the Bear Clan: The Slaughter Begins!

The blizzard swept in.

Twenty [Dark Golden Terrorclaw Bears] were already moving.

There were no roars, no buildup, not even a single unnecessary breath.

The wedge formation took shape faster than the wind poured in—two Hundred-Thousand-Year Fearclaw Bears stood at the very tip, Iron Wall on the left and the other on the right, followed closely by eighteen Forty-Thousand-Year-Class Fearclaw Bears. In a perfect arrowhead formation, they plunged into the depths of the snowstorm.

On the ice plains outside the cave, fifty [Mysterious Ice Heavy Armor Bears] were charging.

Their icy-blue armor reflected cold, harsh arcs of light through the blizzard. Every step smashed half-meter-deep craters into the frozen ground, sending shards of ice flying like shrapnel.

A mass charge by Forty-Thousand-Year-Class Soul Beasts.

If a beast tide of this scale crashed into the gate of a medium-sized city, the gate would shatter first.

Then—they stopped.

Not of their own accord.

Their bodies simply stopped obeying them.

The instant Iron Wall and the other Hundred-Thousand-Year Fearclaw Bear released their ferocious beast auras, more than a dozen Mysterious Ice Heavy Armor Bears at the front seemed to have their spines clutched by an invisible hand.

Their limbs went weak.

Their claws carved long braking trails across the ice.

Something surfaced in the depths of their beastly eyes—not thought, not judgment, but something etched into the deepest parts of their marrow, something older than any instinct.

Fear.

One hundred thousand years against forty thousand years.

A gap of two and a half major realms might perhaps be bridged by numbers between different species.

But within the bloodline of the same bear race—this gap was an impassable chasm.

The numerical advantage of fifty Heavy Armor Bears was worthless before bloodline suppression.

Iron Wall gave them no chance to break free.

Its massive six-meter-tall