“Flower Mulan shyly bows and greets the Marshal, respectfully hear and inspect~”
Lion Lord hummed a tune as he held a file, trimming Leopard Lord’s claws.
A-gong came down from the upper floor, carrying a knife on his back, a bow, a sword and a spear; a row of throwing knives hung from his waist along with two short blades.
How could someone who came out of the Yu family nursery possibly be good at fighting?
Although she had spent these decades studying and training hard, a demon beast’s bloodline constrains its strength far more than a human’s.
When the village needed martial power to deal with things, they usually left it to Lion Lord and Leopard Lord; A-gong only handled daily management and planning.
A-gong knew he had no talent in real combat, but he had many hands and feet, so he outfitted himself with as many weapons as he could.
Lion Lord: “A-gong, maybe you should—”
A-gong: “Let’s go home!”
Lion Lord wanted to argue, but in the end the words died in his throat.
Go home — that Yu family house was where they were born, and where they were devoted to be buried.
Leopard Lord rose from Lion Lord’s leg, shook his body, pressed his front paws against the floor and rubbed them back and forth to check how sharp his claws still were.
Lion Lord stretched a long, lazy yawn, lifted his head and opened his mouth.