This is bloodline. This is legacy. This is war.

700 years ago, Sir William Wallace stood against the most powerful empire of his time.

He didn’t kneel. He didn’t sell out. He died a free man.

And through that fire, his blood passed down the line — all the way to me.

A hundred years ago, my great-grandfather, Richard William Wallace, bore his name with pride.

He lived through the collapse of an old world and the rise of the next.

Now I carry the torch — not in name, but in spirit.

I fight today with a different weapon.

Not a claymore — but Bitcoin. Fedi. Vision.

My war is for sovereignty, for those forgotten by the system, for the ones with no voice.

This isn’t branding. This isn’t marketing.

This is ancestral duty.

When I walk through Bangkok or raise my voice for Thai families or veterans or broken women,

it’s not just me.

It’s every Wallace that came before.

It’s every warrior who chose death over chains.

Two photos.

One in the highlands. One in the jungles of Thailand.

Two battlegrounds. One soul.

The mission never changed — only the battlefield.

Let them watch. Let them mock.

I don’t need validation.

I already have bloodline authority.

And when this is all over, the world will know what it means to carry the Legacy of the Braveheart.

And they’ll never forget our name.

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