Her blood, having undergone the Blood Pupa trial, also let out a howl.
It was the most primitive call, the call of beast blood to beast blood.
(No other way, I'll sacrifice a bit and prepare for desertion,) Little Eight conjectured, vanishing into thin air in Gladiator Arena's No. 0, which would surely cause a sensation.
"Beast," Yijie cursed harshly as everyone focused on the struggle between the human and wolf, holding the dead body of the young wolf.
The she-wolf's deeply embedded claws relaxed slightly, its ears twitching, its eyes, inflamed by hatred, staring blankly at No. 0.
The woman beneath was disheveled, her face smeared with blood, her hands trembling from prolonged exertion.
It was this woman, this woman who had shot her wolf cub and the Wolf King herself.
The wolf corpse in Yijie's hands was cold and soft. He was betting that the she-wolf would forsake No. 0 and turn to attack him. He was fifty percent confident he could dodge the she-wolf's fatal strike.
