With wolves surrounding him on every side, Fang Qianyuan lowered his head in silence, his heart heavy with grief. The scene was solemn and sorrowful.
The lead wolf approached, looked at the little white wolf on the ground, then at him. An inscrutable, complicated look flickered in its eyes, and it opened its mouth to say something.
But suddenly, its ears twitched, and it looked toward the woods to the west.
"Alas, I was still a step too late." An elderly voice came from that direction.
Fang Qianyuan raised his head and saw the stooped old man from the cabin in the woods, leaning on his cane as he shuffled shakily toward them.
A magnificent Swift Eagle Spirit perched on his shoulder. Clearly, he had seen what was happening through the Eagle Eye Art, but had still failed to arrive in time to save her.
"Steward Wolf." Fang Qianyuan suddenly felt guilty, and at a loss.
The stooped old man walked around the bear's corpse and came up to him. With a soft sigh, he said, "Life and death are ordained, and each receives their allotted fate. Such is the way of Heaven."
Fang Qianyuan said, "I didn't want things to end like this, but she still died..."
"I'm sorry!"
"Qianyuan, you needn't apologize to me, because it serves no purpose." The stooped old man sighed. "No matter how many times you say you're sorry, she won't wake up again."
At those words, Fang Qianyuan silently clenched his fists.
But he also knew the old man was right.
The little white wolf was dead. She would not come back to life.
Fang Qianyuan had lost his mother as a young child, before he understood grief, for he had been too young to know anything then. But after witnessing his father's