Warden of the Beast World: Everyone is a Hakimi

As soon as Chi Heng left, a corner of the tent flap was lifted. Youming crept in halfway, his grey-blue eyes scanning the area to make sure the ruffled firebird was gone before he finally stepped inside.

"Brother, you even rip off kids' snacks." Youlie looked helplessly at his brother, who showed no remorse whatsoever.

"Brother, this is to let him know how dangerous society is." Youming straightened his military uniform cuffs, speaking with righteous indignation and without the slightest guilt.

Speak like a human.

"That thing called ice cream is pretty good. But speaking of which, why is it that he has it but you don't? Have you fallen out of favor?" Youming's gaze swept over Youlie, his tone clearly provocative.

"I don't like this," Youlie said expressionlessly. Chiheng, that firebird, had a sweet tooth, and the ice cream Yetang prepared for him was always a limited edition with added sugar and milk. He preferred barbecue and hot pot and had little interest in sweets.

"I think you can enjoy it, little brother." Youming took a half step forward, lowered his voice, and a shrewd glint flashed in his gray-blue eyes.

If Youlie tells Yetang he loves ice cream, Yetang will definitely prepare some for him. If Youlie doesn't like it, then the ice cream will naturally end up in his older brother's stomach. A perfect plan.

"No way. Don't think I don't know what you're up to." Youlie looked up at his brother, who was like a honeycomb briquette, and said speechlessly.

"How about we make a deal?"

"Give me the money."

"Youlie, we're like brothers." Youming began to appeal to emotions.

"Even between brothers, accounts should be settled clearly." Youlie remained unmoved.

"Blood is thicker than water!"

"I have many older brothers." The Canglang clan is a wolf pack, and his father had several brothers. His cousins ​​in this generation could form a reinforced platoon.

"I've spoiled you for nothing."

"Is there really no room for negotiation?"

"Pay."

"Youlie, when did you become so mercenary?" Youming lamented, her brother used to be such an honest person. He'd been deceived for over a decade and didn't hold a grudge, even using her hard-earned savings to help him with his dowry. Now, he'd even hesitate to give her a simple ice cream—

"Tangtang likes money." Youlie's voice remained calm.

"Besides money?" Youming tried to find a breakthrough.

"Me," Ghost Hunter said confidently, even wagging his tail.

After all his freebies were blocked by the Ghost Hunter, he was not discouraged. Instead, he changed his perspective, and a glint of light flashed in his gray-blue eyes.

He took a half step forward, lowered his voice, and said with a hint of probing and teasing, "We're brothers, do you think my mysterious sister-in-law might also have her eye on me? Should I use my looks to my advantage?"

"You're sick." Youlie didn't even lift his eyelids.

"What's wrong with my physique and looks, brother?" Youming protested. He and Youlie were born of the same parents and looked six or seven parts alike, both having the standard silver-gray hair and gray-blue eyes of the Canglang clan. His features were even more refined than Youlie's, and his demeanor was more dashing. How could Yetang be interested in Youlie but not him?

"Tangtang said I don't agree, she won't marry another beast husband. Forget about it." Youlie's voice was as calm as if he were reporting military affairs, but the tips of his ears turned slightly red for a moment, almost imperceptibly.

He never mentioned the privilege Ye Tang had given him to outsiders; it was his treasure, and he kept it hidden very carefully. But dealing with his brother, who was like a honeycomb briquette, required drastic measures.

"What?! What kind of bewitching potion did you give your sister-in-law?!" Youming's usually shrewd and cunning eyes widened in surprise. He had lived for nearly forty years and considered himself to know the empire's marriage rules inside and out, but what Youlie had just said...

The idea that a female master must seek the consent of her existing male beast husband before marrying him was something he had never heard of before. He had never seen such treatment, such favoritism, such preciousness towards the feelings of male beasts in any female in his life.

Jing Yao happened to be passing by the camp, holding a freshly brewed cup of coffee, preparing to go to You Ming to discuss the next phase of defense adjustments.

He had just reached the tent entrance when he heard Youlie's calm yet resolute declaration—Tangtang said, "I disagree. She won't marry any other beastmen." Marshal White Tiger froze in place. This wolf cub had this trick up his sleeve?

Jing Yao recalled what he had done to You Lieqian in the Northern Territory: stealing his self-heating hot pot, stealing his beef jerky, exploiting his late-night snacks with all sorts of high-sounding reasons, and even teaming up with You Ming to increase his workload.

Back then, he was only thinking about settling personal scores and never considered that this wolf cub would later whisper sweet nothings in Ye Tang's ear. Now, with this kid's pillow talk, all his previous behavior has been rendered meaningless. Jing Yao's fingers, holding the coffee cup, tightened slightly.

He realized he had to adjust his policy, and immediately. He could no longer treat Youlie like a donkey; not only could he not use him, he also had to find a way to appease this wolf cub.

As Youlie went to move reinforcement materials for the fortifications as usual, he had just bent down when a hand pressed down on his shoulder. Jing Yao appeared beside him at some point, his expression still stern and imposing, but his tone was much gentler than usual: "Youlie, as the Empire's fourth SS-level combatant, you should focus your energy on the defense line. Let your subordinates do this rough work from now on."

Three question marks slowly appeared above Youlie's head. Yesterday he said he was "rusty and needed to start from scratch," and today he said "we should focus our efforts on the defense line." The marshal's attitude changed far too quickly. But doubts aside, it was better not to have to build walls. He gave a crisp military salute: "Yes, sir."

When lunchtime arrived, Youlie, as usual, took out the self-heating hot pot that Yetang had prepared for him from his storage ring. The spicy and fragrant aroma had just wafted out when Youming appeared precisely at the tent entrance, as if he had a GPS tracker, chopsticks already in his hand. However, before his hand could even touch the edge of the hot pot, it was pressed down by another large, well-defined hand.

Jing Yao appeared in the tent at some point, one hand pressing down on You Ming's restless wrist, the other holding his ever-present cup of coffee. He spoke righteously and sternly: "Is it appropriate for you to steal your brother's things? That's outrageous."

Youming looked down at his wrist, which was caught red-handed, then looked up at Jing Yao's righteous face. The image of the Marshal confiscating several boxes of self-heating hot pot from Youlie right in front of him flashed through his mind. A string of question marks slowly appeared above his head—Has the Marshal gone mad? Wasn't he usually the one most enthusiastic about grabbing them?

Youlie silently moved the self-heating hot pot closer to himself, without asking any further questions. Jingyao must have heard what he said.

Marshal Baihu's ears were always exceptionally sharp at times like this. He lowered his head to unpack the chopsticks, a very faint smile curving his lips. The pillow talk hadn't even started yet, and it was already having this effect—a remarkable one.