"This guy's too frail to stay on his feet in the arena?"
"What the hell is he bragging about?"
"Exactly, what the hell is he bragging about, putting on airs like some big bad wolf? Where's our fighter? Get up there. Don't keep this frail fellow waiting."
"Exactly, exactly. Whose turn is it? Hurry up and get up there. Finish this quickly."
"Come on, come on, come on. Stop wasting time."
On the Chaos Ancient Clan's side.
The members of the Chaos Ancient Clan looked at the figure in the arena, all curling their lips at the same time, their faces full of disdain.
A cultivator at the Third Heaven Quasi-Saint Realm claimed he was too frail to stay on his feet?
Who would believe that?
Not even a fucking idiot would believe it.
Was he playing dumb?
"Heh..."
"In that case, I'll go up."
A figure slowly rose from among the Chaos Ancient Clan.
He was a hulking man with a wolf's head and a human body.
His head was a fully formed wolf's head, with grayish-brown fur covering his entire skull.
An old scar ran down the center of his forehead, extending from the bridge of his nose to the crown of his head. The fur along the scar could no longer grow back, leaving a strip of dark red flesh exposed.
His ears were long and pointed, each missing a small piece at the tip, as though something had bitten it clean off.
His eyes were dark green, his pupils vertical as blades. As his eyes opened and closed, a spectral green light flashed deep within them.
His muzzle was long, with two rows of sharp teeth jutting past his lips, interlocking above and below.
Each tooth resembled a polished bone spike, with dark red scraps of