"So what do we do now?" the tattooed Divine Being on the left asked, looking at Wumeng. "Celestial Wolf Four is a lost cause. The stationed Priest is dead, and the resources have been destroyed. If this news gets out, our other vassal Star Realms might waver. Those fair-weather races have always sided with whoever is strongest."
Wumeng remained silent, the wrinkles on his ancient face as deep as if carved by a knife. His fingers gently tapped the blood-red Crystal Stone at the top of his bone staff, making a rhythmic TAP, TAP, TAP.
Inside the council hall, the other eight Divine Beings awaited his decision.
This Elder Werewolf, who had lived for over three hundred years, had seen the civilization's most glorious era and its most devastating retreats. Every decision he made had once altered the fate of the Celestial Wolf Civilization.
"Gelu," Wumeng finally spoke. "The raiders' current position?"
