Without wasting time, he followed the trail silently but deadly. Every tree he passed carried his scent, marking his anger as he moved. His sharp senses led him straight to the source.
And when he reached the place, the sight in front of him froze his blood.
On the ground, a female was struggling and crying weakly. The stench of fear and those crushed herbs filled the air.
And right above her, the same filthy owl beastman was pressing her down, trying to force something into her mouth.
The snake beastman's eyes went cold as ice. His pupils thinned even more, turning into sharp slits of a feral beast.
That was the same scent. The same filthy scent from that night.
It was him.
The snake beastman's hand clenched, his body radiating cold fury. The soft, handsome features on his face twisted slightly, and a dangerous air rolled off him like a wave.
Every tree nearby seemed to tremble slightly under his hidden aura.
