Rumble!
The sky was filled with dark clouds. Torrential rain came crashing down with the thunder, hammering the endless mountains of the Broken Spine Mountains. The trees drank their fill of the rain, while monster crows with feathers comparable to steel perched on the treetops, their lifeless eyes fixed on the ground. Various animals darted through the forest, searching for shelter from the wind and rain.
A figure staggered through the rain. He clutched his chest, stopping beneath a tree to rest every few steps.
This man was Bairangpu Ironclaw, the eldest son of the Ironclaw Family, one of the four great families of Bloodclot City. He was known as Beauty Wolf.
Because of his younger brother William's ambush, his chest had been wounded by a silver weapon. Fortunately, his heart was slightly farther to the left than normal, so the silver had only injured his lungs. The wound was not yet fatal.
After being ambushed, he had called for the guards. But when they appeared, he sensed danger, so he decisively fled Wolf Fort. He had avoided the guards' search all the way here, enduring the pain from his wounds.
However, he knew very well that he was nearly out of strength. The self-healing ability that Werewolves prided themselves on had been greatly weakened by the silver's suppression. He might well die from his severe injuries before his wounds could heal.
He struggled to breathe, gritted his teeth, and kept moving forward. The rain gradually blurred his vision, while the thunder rumbling beside his ears made his head throb. He did not want to give up. He did not want to die. He wanted revenge. He wanted to send every person who had betrayed him straight to hell.
Thud.
Bairangpu was terribly unwilling to accept this, but the body