Brian stood with his back to the bright moon, his wings unmoving, suspended midair by the airflow, looking down at the battlefield below.
If he remembered correctly, below was the Sentinel Base close to the border of the United States and Canada.
Really, it was just some broken houses.
Of course, there were no barriers between the two countries. They had simply cut a car-accessible clearing through the forest and used this as the borderline. Residents from both sides could go shopping next door at any time, and no one would interfere.
Brian’s box with the Twilight Plate inside was buried not far away.
Thinking of this, Brian suppressed his hunger and cast an unfriendly glance downward.
Could someone have dug up his box?
As his gaze became unfriendly,
the big wolf dog still howling at the sky below shivered, feeling an icy chill run down its spine.
It hesitated not even for a moment, no longer caring about the enemies and loot on the ground. With a flash, it darted toward the forest on the Canadian side on all fours, running madly.
The last time it had felt this kind of danger was when it was targeted by over twenty heavy sniper rifles.
The guy above was very dangerous!
But how could Brian let it escape so easily?
With a shrill sonic boom, he descended from the sky with a hurricane, standing in front of the over three-meter-tall werewolf: "Sorry, buddy, you can’t pass this way."
The over three-meter-tall werewolf exuded an overwhelming sense of oppression.
It was too large, its body sleek, its muscles bulging, radiating a raw blend of speed and power.
Seeing Brian, who only reached up to its chest, the gigantic abnormal being reacted as if it had seen a ghost—too scared to even speak, it turned to try and flee the other way.
tall trees were snapped midway.
The werewolf, on all fours, let out a pained howl as Brian kicked it flying four or five meters, and it only stopped when it crashed into a large tree, breaking it in half.
It coughed up mouthfuls of fresh blood and fragments of shattered organs, its large eyes looking at Brian with terror.
This guy, encased in black keratin, was even more horrifying than it had imagined!
As he watched the werewolf floundering on the spot, Brian’s eyes showed surprise.
After landing, he smelled the pheromones emitted from the other’s body.
This guy gave off a very peculiar sensation: not a Mutant, not a Beastification Person; in fact, devoid of any biologically unique human pheromones—if he closed his eyes, Brian could almost believe he was dealing with a real North American gray wolf.
The other’s strength was rather average, merely perched at the critical point of a First Rank life.
But the pheromones were filled with a youthful scent.
The other couldn’t be that old.
Brian cocked his head and looked at him: "Mutant?"
The werewolf shook its head.
"Beastification Person?"
The werewolf lay on the ground and shook its head again.
"Offspring of a Mutant?"
This time, the werewolf seemed conflicted. After spitting out a large mouthful of clotted blood, it roughly said, "My name is Kokuvi Bryan, from the Bryan family of Canada’s Northwest region. We are the offspring of the union between Mutants and Beastification People."
Brian thought he must have misheard.
He knew about the Northwest region—it was one of the three territories in Canada’s first-level administrative divisions, located in the northwest and near the Arctic Circle, adjacent to Alaska in the United States, a vast, scarcely populated region of 1.17 million square kilometers with just tens of thousands of residents.
But when did this frigid northern territory get a Bryan family!
If Susan found out about this, she’d shoot him without hesitation!
Kokuvi thought Brian knew of the Bryan family and lifted his head proudly: "Yes, our Bryan family is one of the first new Abnormal Bloodline Families, having survived for three generations, over fifty years. The strongest among us has reached Second Rank life, making us one of the top Abnormal Bloodline Families in Canada."
Brian slapped him: "Just answer the question, what are you looking up for? Fifty years and only a Second Rank life, where do you get the nerve to be proud?"
Kokuvi was left seeing stars from the slap.
He quickly lowered his head with a hint of grievance: "I was just answering your question."
Brian slapped him again: "Did I ask you to speak?"
Kokuvi became even more aggrieved.
His three-meter-tall form, with swollen lips, resembled a husky uniformly stung by bees on both cheeks, head bowed in silence.
Kokuvi was beginning to regret coming out to play.
People outside really were as mean as his sister had said!
As he thought to himself, tears began to mist in Kokuvi’s large eyes: Sister, save me!
Watching the tears form in the other’s eyes, Brian:..
Bro, you were howling at the moon with such passion, but now two slaps make you cry?
This contrast made him uncomfortable, like bullying a small child.
He cleared his throat: "Don’t cry, I’ll still hit you if you cry."
Kokuvi sniffled, wanting to wipe his eyes, but then he realized the kick from Brian had also broken his hefty wolf claws, leaving him powerless. His anxiety shattered, he sniffled again and truly started crying: "Wuu... Awoo wuu wuu.."