"This batch of grain and weapons will arm us with a new army. Additionally, send someone to the Whip-tail Clan's territory to receive fifty thousand Throne Wolves. That's what Old Chief Singer just agreed upon, along with ten additional vassal clans."
"God bless The Master of Hunting, is Old Chief Singer intending to give up on life?"
The Defense Military Governor was startled, exclaiming:
"Is he trying to sell off the Whip-tail Clan in a bundle? What's he up to?"
"Ha, you're young; you don't yet understand the feeling of life's ebbing away while being powerless. Especially for Old Chief Singer, who is a long-lived Werewolf; the longer he lives, the weaker his courage becomes."
Amot sneered and said:
"Time's blessing has turned him into a despicable coward. To stay alive, let alone selling off his clan, he's capable of doing even more disgraceful things.
