Extraordinary Pedigree.

Chapter 1112 "I am your father".

At that moment, Fenrir, the wolf boy on the other side, looked up at the sky. At that instant, the air was filled with the stench of decay and shrieks.

Groups of happies circled beneath the clouds, their faces contorted, their wings beating to create a nauseating black wind, making it seem as if the entire sky was bowing down to the tribe.

Fenrir's pupils contracted sharply, and a low, instinctive sound escaped his throat...

"ha--!"

The wolf boy couldn't help but start breathing out.

At this moment, the people of the Fenris tribe also saw Hapi, and they couldn't help but cause a stir.

"Happiness...it's Happiness!!"

"Gods above, they've set their sights on us?!"

"That's a soul-eating monster! Even the ancestral spirits can't save those who have been captured!"

In Fenris legends, the Happis are not wild beasts, but calamity itself. Their appearance signifies that souls cannot return to their ancestral lands, and that the dead will have their names erased. The Happis have already hunted down many Fenris.

For the Icefang tribe, whose roots lie in honor and ancestral spirits, this was more terrifying than death, and panic spread among the people like a plague.

Headhunter Harold couldn't help but rebuke:
"enough!"

He roared to quell the commotion, then turned sharply to look at Fenrir.

"Fenrir, take the men and leave! Leave now! You are the fang of the tribe, the future king chosen by King Gil, so you cannot lose your life here!"

Fenrir did not turn around. His shoulders heaved, his breathing was heavy, and his gaze was fixed on the group of monsters circling in the sky, his eyes burning with an almost overflowing rage.

“They killed Eric.” His voice was low and hoarse. “Just last month…and little Sig, and Ida’s daughter, and many, many tribes.”

Fenrir's fingers slowly tightened, his knuckles making a teeth-grinding grinding sound.

He slowly turned around, looked at Harold, grinned, revealing his gleaming white teeth, and said directly, "Take your men and leave."

"I'll cover the rear."

"Fenrir!" Harold roared, "You're committing suicide—!"

Before he finished speaking, Fenrir had already taken a step forward.

--boom!

The ice field shattered, the air behind him suddenly twisted, and the phantom of a giant wolf tore out of his body, its fur billowing like a storm and its fangs as menacing as mountain ridges.

【Fenrir, the Avatar of the Overlord】.

The wolf's shadow howled to the sky, and the howl transformed into a visible shockwave, forcefully sending several swooping hawks flying backward, their feathers and black blood scattering across the sky.

Fenrir grabbed his spear and hurled it.

The spear pierced the air, nailing directly into the chest of a harpy, tearing its hideous face to shreds. But in the next instant, more shadowy figures pounced, their claws raining down and their beaks sharp as knives.

The wolf shadow and the happi tore and tumbled in the air.

Fenrir was swatted away by a claw, crashing heavily into the ice. His chest armor shattered, and blood instantly stained the snow. He coughed up blood, but in the next moment he rolled to his feet, growling as he charged back into the battle.

Claws tore open his shoulder, wings ripped through his back, and blood flowed down his skin, but his eyes grew even more ferocious.

Xia Xiu stood in the shadowy void in the distance, watching the figure charging back and forth between the ice field and the shadows, and couldn't help but mutter to himself.

"It's wolves again."

The boy Lupercal now commands a wolf pack, and his avatar, Horus, is also a wolf-headed warrior.
The second child before them was an incarnation of Fenrir, the legendary giant wolf that tore apart the gods.

Their Primarchs are now locked in a fierce battle with the wolves.

While he was lost in thought, on the other side of the battlefield, the headhunter Harold had already made his decision.

He watched Fenrir stand alone between the tribe and the sky, like a wolf's fang nailed to the ice field, impossible to pull out, and finally clenched his teeth tightly.

"Go! Don't look back!"

This is the order for the headhunter.

The people of the Fenris tribe all had red eyes, but no one hesitated any longer. They knew that staying would only be a burden to the child.

The two giant wolves—Freggie and Gerry—whimpered softly as they were forcibly dragged away. They kept looking back, their claws scraping deep marks on the ice, but they were eventually led away from the battlefield by the crowd.

The moment Fenrir heard the footsteps fade away, his shoulders relaxed slightly.

Then, he had no more scruples.

He let out a long wolf howl, the sound tearing through the cold wind, as if declaring to the entire Garden of Joseph—now, only hunting remains.

Unlike the beautiful mechanism of Lupercal, the son of the Firstborn, Fenrir, the wolf boy, took a different path.

Fenrir is pure numerical beauty.

Simply put, it means that the left hand deals high damage, and the right hand deals high damage.

When his spear broke, he simply threw away his weapon and tore open Hapi's wings with his bare hands; when his bone armor shattered, he used his flesh and blood to withstand the sharp claws; the wounds that had just been torn open were forcibly closed the next second as his muscles writhed.

From Xia Xiu's perspective, Fenrir's life curve is simply unscientific... Oh, the science of Terra has been treated like an abstraction, it has been criticized countless times, and science no longer exists, so this is actually normal.

Fenrir is now showing off his stats to his elderly father.
Self-healing, regeneration, the faster it fights, the crazier it gets.

As the fight continued, a faint crimson mist began to rise around his body, as if his body temperature and will had burned to a critical point.

“…Similar to the Blood God’s Blood Battle Technique.” Xia Xiu stroked his chin, his gaze calm and sharp, “but not entirely.”

That was a primitive form that had not been systematically organized.

There is no complete logic for the Blood God sacrifice, no fixed combat circuit, and even the Dominator's incarnation is not solidified enough.

It's more like—a certain bloodline is awakening prematurely, but hasn't had time to be completely corrupted by any god or narrative.

"A quasi-dominant, with an avatar and a key, but no mechanics, purely numerical beauty... Well, it can't be said that it has no mechanics at all. It seems to be able to communicate with and command beasts, to be precise, wolves."

Xia Xiu knew very well that this state was ridiculously powerful in the early stages, but extremely dangerous in the later stages.

And the facts proved him right.

Fenrir was completely engrossed in the fight, the phantom of the giant wolf becoming more and more solid, causing the Happis to splatter black blood everywhere. But the problem was—there were too many Happis.

They were fearless, as if driven by some higher malice. One group fell, and another immediately took its place, their shrieking never ceasing.

The battle was dragged out into a war of attrition.

Fenrir, after all, is still just a child, and not fully awakened. He has no rank suppression, and although he has a cheat code, he doesn't have a father to fully activate it. So right now, he only has a life force that is burning wildly.

If this continues...

Xia Xiu squinted, already seeing the outline of the ending.

On the icy plains, the wolf boy Fenrir, through repeated charges that nearly resulted in injuries for injuries, finally managed to completely squeeze out the surging bloodlust within him.

His chest heaved violently, and a low, beastly roar escaped his throat. The blood mist gushing from his wounds did not dissipate in the cold wind as usual. Instead, under his will, it quickly rolled back and condensed, like liquid metal being repeatedly forged by an invisible hand, layer upon layer covering his shoulders, arms, and vital areas of his chest and abdomen, ultimately outlining a rough yet extremely oppressive blood-red armor.

The blood mist was not still; it flowed and breathed slowly around Fenrir, maintaining an eerie rhythm with his heartbeat.

The surface of the blood armor rippled with subtle waves, adjusting its thickness as if it were alive, deflecting the claws and swallowing the impact. When Hapi's sharp beak tore through the air and swooped down, the blood mist would suddenly swirl and turn into sharp edges, repelling the enemy and leaving behind shredded black shadows.

At the same time, his body was showing faint signs of werewolf-like characteristics. This scene did not surprise Xia Xiu much.

Wolfification... It seems that, like the First Apostle's gene seed, there is a relatively obvious physiological genetic defect.

The genetic seed of the firstborn son is very stable, with virtually no physiological genetic defects. However, the fact that Lupercal has opened the Horus Program is a bit worrying for Xia Xiu.

Physiological genetic defects are manageable, as they can be suppressed by the original embryo, which is a perfect embryo. However, defects hidden in the mental traits bestowed by the genetic seed are not so easy to avoid.

Therefore, Xia Xiu had to carefully protect the Son of First Return to prevent him from being corrupted by Chaos.

At this moment, as he looked at the swarms of Happis still swooping down from the sky, and at Fenrir's blood armor, which had become noticeably thinner and dimmer after the blood mist erupted once, and whose recirculation rate was gradually falling behind the consumption, he quickly came to a conclusion.

Fenrir does indeed possess the Blood God Factor, and almost instinctively so. He doesn't need to perform the Blood God's battle ritual or join the Blood God lineage to become a Chaos Warrior; he can automatically unlock Blood Battle Techniques of considerable energy level.

However, it's still too immature!

"It's reached its limit." Xia Xiu thought to himself as he looked at the wolf boy, whose burst damage was high but whose endurance was clearly insufficient.

The next moment, he stopped hiding.

The [Presence Weakening] Mimu essence surrounding him was casually removed, like a curtain being lifted. The aura that had perfectly blended with the environment instantly fell into the coordinates of reality, and life fluctuations appeared at the same time.

Almost at the same instant, all the Happis in the sky paused.

A brief look of astonishment appeared on their ugly human faces, which was then replaced by an even stronger sense of greed and excitement—a reaction that only occurs when the value of the prey suddenly increases. A sharp and piercing cry exploded in the sky.

Without hesitation, the flock of Happis changed their target, flapping their wings that stirred up a foul stench, and turned around, like a black cloud sloping down, heading straight for Xia Xiu's location.

Just then, Fenrir, still locked in fierce combat, suddenly turned around.

When he saw the dark mass of Hapi swarms turn around, his pupils contracted sharply, and even the condensing blood mist momentarily became disordered. Almost instinctively, he opened his mouth and shouted in a hoarse and anxious voice towards Xia Xiu's direction:

"Hello--!"

"Don't stand there!"

"Run! They'll tear you to pieces—!"

Despite Fenrir's almost instinctive roar, Xia Xiu did not retreat a single step. Instead, he raised his head and gave a very gentle, even somewhat reassuring smile to the wolf boy who was covered in blood and still stood firmly in front of him. The smile seemed particularly abrupt in the biting wind and snow of the icy plains, yet it inexplicably made people's hearts skip a beat.

Then, he took a step forward, his shoulders slightly lowered, his back taut, his right arm hanging down naturally and then slowly rising again, his five fingers spreading, clenching, and then tightening. It was a very simple starting stance—a basic blood fighting move he had learned from the "Complete Book of Blood Fighting Techniques" in the Blood God Arena when he was still in his early years and had not yet reached a high position, when he participated in ensemble performances.

[Blood Battle Technique - Strong Hand Skull Crusher!]
At this moment, the blood-fighting techniques, which should have been nothing more than close-range bursts of power to finish off the enemy with pure brute force, underwent a qualitative change due to the infusion of great spirituality.

The old father was now demonstrating to Fenrir what true numerical beauty was.

The moment Xia Xiu's fist force truly came to a close, the air was crushed by some invisible weight, and his aura, no longer restrained, burst upwards as if out of control.

The crimson spirituality was instantly ignited, piercing through the sky from the icy plain beneath his feet, transforming into a brutal, direct, and undisguised crimson pillar of light that shot straight into the heavens.

That beam of light was not simply an outpouring of energy, but rather a fighting spirit forcibly pulled from the world, carrying a primal, cruel, and almost savage will to fight, tearing the sky in two, pushing aside the clouds, and causing the storm to dissipate in the high sky.

The swarms of happiest birds that were swooping down fell silent at that moment.

Their ugly faces froze in mid-air, greed and thirst replaced by an instinctive fear, while Fenrir was completely stunned.

The blood mist that had not yet dissipated around him seemed to be held down by an invisible hand, ceasing its surging, leaving him only able to stare blankly at the blood-red pillar of light that pierced through the heavens and earth.

next moment.

Xia Xiu finally threw a punch.

【Blood Fighting Technique - Strong Hand Skull Crusher - MAX】.

There were no fancy trajectories or complex variations, just a single punch forward.

Pure numbers, pure force, bricks flying!
The crimson pillar of light collapsed with a roar the moment the fist was thrown, all the accumulated spirituality, fighting spirit, and rule-based violence poured forward at the same time, and the entire sky was forcibly pressed down by this punch. The Hapi group did not even have time to scream. In the instant it came into contact with the aftershock of the punch, it was completely crushed, torn apart, and evaporated, turning into a sky full of exploding blood mist and broken wings, like a sudden crimson rainstorm pouring down from the sky.

The ice field trembled, and the wind lost its voice.

As the last vestiges of crimson faded, the sky returned to deathly silence, leaving only the slowly falling blood rain and the still-dazed wolf children on the ground.

Fenrir stood there, stunned, his fingers trembling slightly as he gripped the spear. His [Avatar of Domination] still lingered on his back, yet he appeared quieter than ever before. He stared at the blond youth who walked calmly through the rain of blood, his mind blank.

Xia Xiu stopped in front of him, looked down at him, and spoke calmly, but with what he thought was a warm, fatherly smile.

"Fenrir, right?"

He paused, as if confirming an answer that had already been written down.

"You played well, your bones are strong and your blood is hot, but your stats haven't fully developed yet."

Finally, he gave a perfectly natural smile, as if he were saying something that was perfectly natural.

“Um… let me introduce myself. My name is Hugh Abraham, and according to certain characteristics…”

"I am your father."

"According to convention, your name should be Fenrir Abraham."

Fenrir: "???"

The wolf boy was struck dumb as if by lightning, standing there stunned for several seconds, his mind buzzing, and even the [Overlord Avatar - Fenrir] behind him, which had not yet completely dissipated, briefly lost focus.

He looked down at his still-bleeding hands, then looked up at the blond youth in front of him who had just smashed the sky with a single punch and turned hordes of happiest people into a rain of blood, and then couldn't help but say another word:
"what?"

What happened today is absurd enough for Fenrir.

The tribe was hunted by the Happin, and he was left to cover the rear alone. Blood mist erupted, and he was on the verge of exhaustion. Then a stranger appeared out of nowhere and ended everything in a way that he had never seen or even imagined.

Before he could even figure out where this man came from, the other man casually told him that he should change his name to Fenrir Abraham, and then announced, "I am your father." These words echoed in Fenrir's mind, like being pounded on the skull by a group of drunken dwarves wielding hammers. He instinctively took a half-step back, and for the first time, genuine bewilderment appeared in his wolf-like eyes, even more pronounced than when he had faced the Happinches.

Xia Xiu wasn't in a hurry at all. He looked at Fenrir's worldview as if it were shattering, smiled casually, and spoke in a very gentle tone, as if he were comforting a frightened and stubborn little beast.

"Don't worry, the reason is indeed quite complicated and can't be explained in a short time."

He paused here, his gaze sweeping over Fenrir. The scrutiny wasn't cold; instead, it carried a certainty and gentleness born of confirmation.

He continued:

"But there's one thing you should be able to sense yourself, right?"

“You know that you are not a native creature of the Garden of Joseph.”

Fenrir's expression stiffened slightly; of course he knew about this.

His wolf mother had told him this story countless times. She said he descended from a crack in the sky of Nidaville, falling from a higher dimension like a stone crushed by a storm, crashing down on this dead continent where ice and fire coexist.

The glacier is roaring.

The volcano is roaring.

The chilling air spewing from the rift valley was enough to freeze one's breath, while the churning lava nearby distorted the air with its intense heat.

This is the cruelest part of Nidaville, where giant wolves, mammoths, and abyssal monsters roam, and any weak life will be eliminated within days.

As the object that fell, it eventually crashed at the boundary between the glacier and the volcano.

The metal fragments were melted by the high temperature and then instantly frozen by the frost, scattering the debris and leaving almost no intact structure.

Yet, in the very center of that charred and frosty ruin, I, as an infant, miraculously survived.

He was only wrapped in a layer of plain cloth that was already covered in dust, and he let out a weak but tenacious cry in the biting wind.

The crying attracted wolves.

A pure white female wolf with a mane standing on end like steel needles emerged from the depths of the icy plains. She was larger than the average direwolf, and her eyes were as cold as amber. She was the apex predator of this region.

She had come drawn by the scent of blood and the unfamiliarity of the place, and should have torn everything apart. But when she looked down and saw the harmless infant, the ferocity in her eyes gradually faded.

This mother wolf has just lost her entire litter of cubs.

The milk has not yet dried, but the wolf den is empty.

Finally, she carefully picked up the swaddled baby, avoiding the wandering fire lizards and the birds of prey high in the sky, and brought this life, which did not belong to this world, back to the wolf den deep in the ice crevice.

It was a nest hidden beneath the cracks in the ice, its inner walls smoothed by countless sharp claws and lined with thick animal hides and withered grass, which could both withstand the extreme cold and avoid the prying eyes of natural enemies.

From that day on, Fenrir became a member of the wolf pack.

The mother wolf nursed him with her milk and licked away the frostbite on his skin with her rough but warm tongue.

In the wolf den, there were two wolf cubs who had grown up with him—one agile and the other strong—who were his earliest brothers; they were Freddie and Gerry.

Fenrir's growth rate far exceeds that of normal circumstances.

In less than a year, he was able to run on all fours across the ice field; he learned to lie in wait and breathe in the snow, and to judge the wind direction and the escape route of his prey; since he had no claws, he repeatedly sharpened his nails with sharp obsidian until they were as hard as iron; since he had no fangs, he gnawed on bone-in jerky to train his bite until his teeth were strong enough to tear through fur.

The hardy moss growing under glacial crevasses was his earliest food source; the herbs growing in volcanic ash were the first hemostatic agents he learned to use; and the roar of volcanic eruptions became his most natural cover.

When he was three years old, he participated in a real hunt for the first time.

The target is a lone juvenile mammoth.

Led by the mother wolf, the wolf pack outflanked the mammoth, while two wolf pups harassed it from the flanks, causing the mammoth to run away in a rage.

Fenrir seized the opportunity, leaping up the moment the mammoth turned, grabbing its thick, pillar-like leg, and digging its nails into the thick skin, tearing off a chunk of flesh.

The mammoth went berserk, but could not shake him off. Finally, it collapsed to the ground under the relentless attacks of the wolves.

After that battle, Fenrir's position among the wolves was completely secured. As he grew older, he became taller and bigger, with broad shoulders and back, and muscles as defined as glacial rock.

He still ran on all fours, but he was faster, more stable, and more imposing than any wolf.

He knows how to sneak, pursue, and surround; he knows when to fight head-on and when to use leverage; he knows how to win using the methods of a wolf pack, rather than going it alone.

As the snow-white mother wolf grew old, she knew she could no longer lead the pack, and so the leadership of the pack quietly fell to Fenrir's shoulders.

Until one day, an adult volcanic bear wandered into the territory.

Its hide was thick and tough; it could shatter ice and rock with a single swipe, severely injuring several adult wolves. The two brothers were the first to fight, but they were sent flying to the ground, covered in blood.

Fenrir did not charge head-on.

He circled the volcano bear, provoking it and luring it onto the steep slope of the glacier.

In the instant the massive beast lost its balance, he leaped up and landed on its back, his nails digging into the spine like iron hooks, his fangs biting into the arteries.

The volcanic bear struggled frantically, but could no longer break free.

Finally, it collapsed with a roar.

From that day forward, Fenrir became the true wolf king of this land of ice and fire. He led his brothers and pack, expanding his territory, hunting down threats, and repelling external enemies.

At that time, he did not understand human language, the names of gods, or the meaning of fate.

He knew only one thing—either hunt or be hunted; either protect or lose.

This is Fenrir's experience as a wolf child, and his story of contact with humans inevitably includes his encounter with the Ice Fang tribe within the Fenris tribe.

That year, the Garden of Joseph experienced a truly permanent winter.

This was not a normal seasonal change, but a dimensional upheaval caused by imbalance—a cold wave surged from the very foundation of the world, glaciers spread outwards, temperatures plummeted to rock bottom, and breaths, before they could even dissipate in the air, froze into tiny ice crystals that crashed to the ground with a crisp, desperate sound.

Volcanoes are no longer a refuge.

Sulfur vapor condenses into poisonous frost in the extreme cold, covering the surface of the ice field. Even just inhaling a breath of it will burn your throat as if you were swallowing shards of ice.

The prey has vanished.

Ice hares hid in ice fissures a kilometer deep, mammoth herds migrated further south to the fiery continent, and even the most resilient ice wolves became emaciated with bony ribs and sunken eyes, leaving only pairs of eerie green eyes that gleamed with hunger and instinct in the darkness.

Fenrir stood atop the glacier, looking down at his dwindling pack. He knew that if things continued this way, the wolf pack wouldn't survive the winter.

So he turned his gaze south of the glacier—that land of fire that belonged to humankind.

That place is the only stable settlement on the southern edge of Nidaville: the Icefang Tribe.

The towering stone walls, the mountains of grain warehouses, and the braziers that never went out at night stood out starkly in this world of death.

Fenrir didn't understand anything about plunder or civilization; all he knew was that his people had to survive.

In the dead of night, a blizzard descended like a curtain from the sky.

Fenrir led his pack stealthily down the slope, the howling of the wind and snow masking all their footsteps. He used low howls to assign positions, having two of his brothers go around to distract the guards, while he led the pack, approaching from the shadows of the granary.

His movements were so light they were neither human nor wolf-like, but more like a hunting machine forged from ice and snow.

Fingernails easily sliced ​​through the outermost layer of animal hide, and shoulders and backs slammed open the gaps.

Inside the granary, the smell of grain and dried meat filled the air, and the wolf pack nearly went out of control.

At that very moment, the sound of horns tore through the night sky, and the ambush troops sprang into action.

Iron spears coated with antifreeze grease shot out from the darkness, whistling through the air, piercing the wolf pack, splattering blood that instantly froze into dark red ice crystals.

The first to react was the snow-white mother wolf.

She lunged at the spear formation, shielding the wolf cubs with her body. Three spears pierced her chest simultaneously, yet she did not retreat an inch.

Fenrir let out a wolf howl that tore through the night sky. He snapped the spear that was thrust at him with his bare hands, his fingernails tearing through the hunter's leather armor, and frost and blood exploded around him.

But there were too many humans, and as the catapults fell, the sound of bones cracking echoed everywhere.

When brothers fall, the tribe crumbles.

Fenrir knew that continuing would only lead to their annihilation, so he picked up an injured wolf cub and forced his way out.

But just as he broke free of the encirclement, a heavy animal-catching net woven from the tendons and chains of a giant beast descended from the sky, trapping him tightly.

He struggled frantically in the net, his fangs bared, his fingernails scraping against the chains, sparks flying, but ultimately he was powerless to turn the tide.

As he was dragged to the center of the tribe, the campfire illuminated his figure.

Half-human, half-beast, covered in blood.

Her long golden hair clung to her face, and her amber eyes held only wariness and ferocity.

King Kiel, the king of the Icefang tribe, sat on his throne made of volcanic rock, watching him silently.

Those were eyes that had seen life and death countless times.

As the hunter raised his battle axe, ready to decapitate the monster, Fenrir suddenly turned to the side, shielding the child who had wandered in with his body, and let out a low, restrained warning.

It's not about attacking, it's about defending.

At that moment, King Kiel raised his hand.

The animal trap was untied, and a rusty iron axe and a worn-out wooden shield were thrown at Fenrir's feet.

This was the challenge plan that King Kiel gave to the wolf boy, and although the wolf boy did not understand human language, he understood that this was a challenge.

The moment he held the axe handle, he knew how to swing it.

Three guards rushed forward, thrusting their spears, but he dodged them with the instincts of a wild animal.

The axe blade shattered the shield, the handle broke the knee, and with the final blow, he stopped the axe blade just before the opponent's throat, abruptly halting the force.

He did not kill these people, and King Kiel laughed loudly upon seeing this.

"You have the claws of a beast, and the honor of a warrior."

He realized that Fenrir was not inherently cruel, but rather a survivor forced by circumstances.

That night, the king brought the wolf boy back to the palace, gave him warm animal skins and hot meat porridge, and named him Fenrir.

He initially rejected the Ice Fang tribe because the mother wolf who nursed him eventually died from her injuries. However, after learning human language and tribal rules, he realized that the mother wolf's death was due to her own choice, as well as the choice of nature.

He gave the mother wolf a proper burial according to the customs of human tribes.

The tribe taught him many things. The tribe's priests were responsible for teaching him to speak. Fenrir showed amazing talent, learning basic conversation in three days and being able to communicate fluently in half a month.

The best warriors taught him how to use the battle axe and longsword. He incorporated the hunting techniques of wolves into his combat, moving as nimbly as a cheetah and slashing as fiercely as a tiger.

Three months later, in the tribe's annual tournament, he single-handedly defeated all challengers and became the Icefang tribe's undisputed strongest warrior.

He never wore fancy animal skins, always kept the wolf tooth necklace with snow mane, and would sit quietly at the edge of the glacier every day, which was the starting point for him to say goodbye to the wolf clan and step into the human world.

King Kil treated him like his own son, not only entrusting him with the inheritance of the tribe's treasure, the Icefang Axe, but also teaching him the principles of governing the tribe. Fenrir also used his own power to protect the Icefang tribe, drive away predators that harassed the village, and reinforce the granaries and fortifications, becoming the tribe's most reliable pillar.

Fenrir gritted his teeth, suddenly raised his head, and the pride and vigilance of an Icefang tribe warrior rekindled in his eyes.

"You saved me, I will remember your kindness."

His voice was deep and restrained, with a distinct Arctic accent.

"But that doesn't mean you can make these kinds of jokes."

As he spoke, his chest puffed out slightly, and even though he was covered in blood, his posture was still like that of a wolf with its head held high.

“I am Fenris… no, I am the strongest warrior recognized by the Icefang Tribe.”

“I was jointly recommended by the headhunter and the priest, and personally recognized by King Kiel as the future leader of the tribe.”

"My name is etched on the tribe's stone tablet with blood and battle; it is not something anyone can insult."

Fenrir stared at Xia Xiu, his eyes sharp and stubborn.

"Even if you are as powerful as a god, you cannot treat other people's glory, surname, and bloodline as a joke."

The wind howled across the icy plains once more, ruffling his blood-stained braids.

Xia Xiu listened quietly, without refuting or interrupting. His smile deepened, as if he were watching a young wolf that had not yet realized its true origins but had already begun to instinctively rebel against its fate.

……

……

……

P.S.: In order to reach the 8,000-word deadline, I failed to meet the deadline and left early.