The Rise of the Wolf Clan (1)

Russ admitted that what she had said earlier was indeed somewhat offensive.

Let alone overpowering everyone, just one punch from that fist, thicker than his own body, and he'd be in his seventh day of mourning within seven days.

Fortunately, the two brothers ultimately escaped being boiled into soup, not for any other reason than Mordred's ability to speak a foreign language.

Learning a foreign language is great! You should learn a foreign language!

At that moment, Russ was incredibly grateful to his father for giving him a Super Brain that allowed him to learn the Dog-men language in just three hours.

As soon as he could understand what was being said, Russ immediately knelt down, doing so with remarkable speed and efficiency.

And like Mordred, Russ also gave himself a new identity: the utterly lowly dog Dorn. What does that have to do with me, Roboute Guilliman?

However, although they escaped being boiled into soup, the terrifying goat-headed monsters did not let them go. Instead, they captured them and kept them as pets, taking them directly onto the spaceship.

"My Mei Yangyang, is this pressure just right?"

"Indeed, it seems you were right, your skills are indeed quite good."

"Oh, sir, you jest. Our Dog-men have been loyal for generations. My respect for you is like a surging river, never-ending! I am certainly not one of those who bark wildly."

Mordred, who was standing on a stool massaging Mei Yangyang, stood up. Although he was a dog, he had a very human-like fawning smile on his face.

Meanwhile, Russ also stood up, massaging the legs and back of the terrifying, muscular ram with utmost flattery.

"To tell you the truth, my ancestors were all cattle herders. I am a true cattle dog and even served as a tax collector. My brother Dorn, on the other hand, pulled snowmobiles and worked as a policeman."

Although we are not as good as you, sir, don't underestimate us just because we are small. We know a lot, and we can never repay your kindness in this lifetime.

Our skill, which we brothers learned from Commorragh, is guaranteed to be high-quality. Enjoy it! Dorn, what are you waiting for? Hurry up and wax the ram's horns; they're not shining anymore."

Russ had never suffered such humiliation before. She picked up the wax and began to rub it in, applying it with utmost care and dedication.

Life is tough, so the dog performs for a living. After all, the first priority in life is survival; it's all about staying alive, isn't it?

Looking at the two Dog's Leg, Mei Yangyang didn't say much. As one of the new generation of strong sheep, she was skilled in using Psychic Power and could sense that this strange creature who called himself Zhuang Sen was indeed not lying.

He truly believed himself to be a creature called a dog, and his experience studying abroad in Commorragh was not a lie. In fact, Mei Yangyang even learned from another somewhat dim-witted Dog-men that they had come here through a journey across the Sea of Souls.

As for why these two little creatures resemble wolves, according to them, the Dog-men were created by a creator known as the Old Ones, and it is very likely that they borrowed the genetic sequence of the Ruthless Clan.

This explanation cannot be proven, since many life forms originated from the Old Ones, and no one knows exactly how many races they spread; perhaps even they themselves were unaware.

But none of that matters. What truly saved the two from being boiled into soup was that the empire didn't care.

Compared to the Sheep Empire, which spans multiple star systems, the so-called Wolf Clan is nothing more than an indigenous species born in this Garden of Nurgle world.

For this backward race that has not yet left its home planet and is under a feudal system, their fate is to be used as slaves and expendable resources for the empire, and to be put to work in factories until they die.

After all, for the Sheep Empire, which reveres military might, the Wolf Clan, a small race that only hunts rabbits on the grasslands, is not even fit to be cannon fodder. They have been enslaved by the Empire for nearly 800 years.

In Mei Yangyang's view, their trip out for training was just a way to accumulate merits. Once the time was up, they would return to the empire and become a rising star once again.

As for these two little creatures, Mei Yangyang doesn't mind keeping two servants. After all, in terms of appearance, Zhuang Sen and Dorn are very much in line with her aesthetic. Most importantly, they speak very nicely, unlike Fei Yangyang, that brainless idiot.

According to Xi Yangyang, these creatures who call themselves Dog-men are a highly domesticated race, born to be servants, and can be used as mouthpieces to manage slaves.

Looking at her own shimmering chair corner in the mirror, Mei Yangyang was in a great mood and felt that it was well worth keeping the two little ones.

"Alright, you two can leave! These two pelts are yours; use them to make some clothes. Don't embarrass me. Remember your mission: the Empire doesn't tolerate idlers. This is your test. I especially liked what you said; this is a test for both of you. Don't let me down!"

Upon hearing this, Mordred and Russ immediately stood at attention, respectfully accepted the two wolf pelts, and waved their arms, shouting:

"Hey ha, I haven't let you down!" ×2

"Haha, not bad, in that case, let's bring this along."

In the blink of an eye, before the two could react, two collars were firmly fastened around their necks.

As soon as Russ entered his house after leaving the Archon, he ripped off the wolf skin he was wearing:

"Damn it, I can't live like this anymore, Second Brother. Why do I feel like we've become his Dog's Leg?"

Mordred had also torn off his wolf skin, retorted, "Of course! You think we're not Dog's Leg? I saw how seriously you were waxing your clothes just now."

"Bullshit! I was forced to do it, and you even gave her a massage! You're the Dog's Leg."

The two brothers exchanged a glance and cursed their bad luck. After this period of investigation, they both realized one thing: they were no match for the enemy, or rather, they couldn't even escape.

This so-called Sheep Clan is not a disorganized mob, but a genuine interstellar empire, surpassing even the Imperium of Man in martial virtue.

Although we're not in the kind of era where everyone's worse off is going to be, the Warp is still a fairytale world.

With their current strength, which is barely enough to defeat a Space Marine, it's not like you can just rebel whenever you want; they simply don't have the strength.

"Then what should we do?"

"What should we do? Of course, we'll just have to take it one step at a time. We might as well go and see what this so-called wolf clan is like."

Without hesitation, the two brothers took their appointment letters and went to report for duty, relying on the identification codes on their bodies. Compared to the three Terrifying Monster Sheep, the sheep official who received them seemed much more normal.

"You two are the two strange servants His Highness recently took in, right?"

"Yes, yes, may I ask your honorable name, sir?"

The official, chewing on some kind of cardamom, waved his hand, indicating that he dared not address himself as "sir." He said, "Since you two are His Highness's servants, you are part of the Empire. From now on, you will be the Planetary Governor of Satellite 2."

That being said, the two could sense the sheep soldier's gloating, which was strange, but it was this feeling that Mordred and Russ couldn't understand.

Before long, two sets of uniforms with ram's horn markings were distributed to the two men, along with a small terminal-like device and even two small handguns.

They received their equipment in a daze, and were then crammed into a landing craft in a daze. That's how the two of them became the so-called Planetary Governor in a daze.

"Second Brother, we've been promoted already? Don't you think it's a bit rushed?"

"I think so too, and I also have a strange sense of déjà vu."

Sure enough, as the landing craft descended and arrived at the so-called Number Two satellite, Mordred's terminal instantly lit up, displaying only one task: to ensure the operation of the industrial zone.

As they read on, the two of them gradually came to their senses:

"Twenty? Isn't that Imperial Tithe? And it's more for the same price, so it's ten percent tax!"