The Return of the Iron-blood Sword Hound
Chapter 67: Blood Relatives (1)
The four seasons of the jungle are quite distinct.
Summer. Crazy summer. Winter. Crazy winter.
Beyond the vast expanse of water, beyond the forest, the seasons have changed many times.
And here, in a quiet meadow at the beginning of the season.
...Puck!
A dull noise is heard.
A Balak warrior, probably in his late teens, winced, clutching his nose.
"Oh, my nosebone!"
He grunted, his nose dripping with blood. It was Ahun.
And in front of him stood an impassive-looking man with an extended fist.
Tall, black hair cropped casually, cold eyes, and pale skin.
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