The werewolf I raised for ten years talked back to me for the sake of a bastard daughter. As I coldly whipped him eighty-eight times, the livestream comments exploded with hate: [Oh my god! Is this toxic woman crazy with jealousy? She's actually trying to kill him!] [What's the difference between this and treating the male lead like a dog? This is straight-up abuse! No wonder he saved the bastard daughter instead of you!] [If not for her tough attitude and constant threats, the male lead wouldn't have stayed with her anyway!] Threats? Threatening a disloyal dog? I was silent for a long time, then scoffed. I ordered his belongings thrown out. The next day, I picked a new wolf pup from the underground arena. Half a month later, he heard the news and came running from the bastard daughter's place in the pouring rain. Gripping my arm tightly, eyes red, he asked with a trembling voice: "Did you really get a new beastman?" 1 When I dragged the bloodied wolf pup home, the villa fell into a deathly silence. No one expected that after my harsh words yesterday, I would actually bring a new beastman home today. The butler, catching a vase his trembling hands almost dropped, stepped forward and asked where to put him. I glanced at him. "Where do you think?" Beastmen need personal training. His room would be next to mine. He probed cautiously: "What about the things in that room..." "Throw them out," I said coldly. Everyone knew what happened. The werewolf I raised for ten years talked back to me for a bastard daughter. When we both fell into the water, he swam towards her without hesitation. Last night, suppressing my rage, I whipped him eighty-eight times. Even as the whip soaked in blood, he kept his face tight and didn't make a sound. I was soaked, my palms burning. When the last lash fell and blood spurred from his mouth, I snapped: "Speak!" He finally looked up, eyes devoid of emotion. "Say what? What does the Young Miss want to hear?" Knowing I was furious, he provoked me further with rhetorical questions. "You bought my life, broke and reset my bones, carved your rules into my flesh. What? Now that the wolf you raised with your own hands disobeyed, you feel embarrassed?" It was laughable. Knowing I raised him, he still saved the little white flower trying to steal my inheritance. The night stretched endlessly into the distance. He smirked. "The Young Miss has plenty of people who care. You don't need me." "Don't need you?" I scoffed. "Lucas, don't forget why I raised you." His gaze was mocking, his back straight with cold pride. "I can't guess your thoughts." "I only know you are high above, surrounded by stars. There were countless hands reaching for you on the shore, but her back was empty." "Maybe you've never felt like drowning and grasping at a straw—but I have. In that moment, I was the only one who noticed her." The night wind chilled me to the bone. I smirked sarcastically. "So?" His gaze was cold, words clear. "She only has me." Only you??? The absurdity expanded in my eyes. In a stare-down lasting half a minute, he didn't flinch. I scoffed, jaw tightening. "Want to be her dog?" "Fine." "I'll deliver you personally." A werewolf's blood and pride would never allow being called a dog. But I wanted to humiliate him. I drove him to Ella's rental apartment that night. When I kicked him out, he only frowned slightly. Then, enduring the bleeding wounds on his back, he stood up slowly and limped towards the lit villa. His back was lonely and proud, never bowing. 2 They say once bitten, twice shy. No one thought I would raise another wolf pup. At first, the underground arena boss recommended a batch of different beastmen. I looked them over again and again, but none caught my eye. Frustrated, I turned to leave. Just as I was about to turn the corner and leave the corridor, a bloodstained hand reached out from a cage in the corner and grabbed my boot. I looked down. I've seen too many beasts on the verge of death. Most are hysterical, numb, crazy, or begging pitifully. But unexpectedly, in the filthy blood and cold shadows, I saw a pair of stubborn, clear black eyes. He said he was willing to be my dog. Just for a bite of food. I glanced at the cage label—Defective. The boss, chattering beside me, broke into a cold sweat. I raised my hand to stop him from interfering. Taking off my black leather glove, I squatted slowly. In the underground ring, forever mixed with rust and rot, a single beam of light hit my fingertips. I lifted his chin, studying him intently. If he had watched me picking people earlier, he would know how strict my requirements were. He was lingering on his last breath, almost dead. The heartbeat in his chest was anxious. He could hear his every breath. Three minutes of scrutiny felt like a century. Yet he saw no change in my cold expression. Just as his black eyes were dimming, I suddenly raised an eyebrow. "Willing to come with me?" His drooping wolf ears perked up instantly. He wagged his tail desperately like a dog, eyes burning like a lit flame. Rubbing against my wrist, repeating fervently—Willing. Willing to come with me, willing to be my dog, willing to be loyal forever, never betraying me. Good. That's what I like to hear. I looked at the terrified boss and said calmly: "Him." 3 I didn't plan to keep this wolf pup. After all, he was defective. He couldn't possibly survive my long and rigorous training. When his wounds healed, I told him he could leave. He was stunned for a long time before asking: "Why?" Emotions surged in his wet black eyes as he stared at me unblinkingly. I flipped my newspaper casually. "No reason. Consider it charity." The butler stepped forward to pull him away, whispering: "Sigh, our Young Miss only wants the strongest and most loyal beastmen. Don't dream about it. Your predecessor was sent away overnight for disloyalty. He was with her for ten years, and she didn't even flinch..." As the butler rambled, the space beside him suddenly emptied. The boy beastman returned. His voice, hoarse and still panting, asked: "Can I have a chance to do better than him?" I rarely lifted my eyelids. "In what aspect?" He clenched his fingers, enunciating clearly: "Every aspect." Strength, loyalty. He would do better than the predecessor the butler mentioned. I put down the newspaper, looking at him with interest. In the spacious and bright living room, he waited nervously for my judgment. I didn't pay much attention to his looks when I brought him back. Now that he was clean, I realized every part of him was aggressive. High brow bones, sharp eyes. Yet his wet eyelashes softened the fierceness. Stubborn and clear black eyes, just like that day. —That was exactly why I took him. After a long stare, I finally spoke: "Okay." "If you can survive." 4 My training is known for its cruelty. Numbers One through Five didn't survive this period. He was the seventh. Names are just codes. Besides taking my surname, the name Seven meant nothing special. But he nodded seriously. I didn't intend to go hard immediately. But his potential far exceeded my expectations. In just one week, he completed all basic training and actively requested increased difficulty. It made me suspect the "Defective" label was a mistake. Sunset. He just finished a 100-kilometer mountain cross-country run with a 200-pound load. The muscles in his calves twitched uncontrollably. He had to support himself with hands on his knees to keep from falling. Six hours. Muscle tearing while maintaining shooting accuracy. He did it on the third try. I rested one arm on the window of the SUV, chatting lazily on the phone, but my eyes stayed on his back. Suddenly, he turned as if sensing something. Our gazes met from afar. Against the setting sun, he ran towards me down the slope. The mountain wind blew the wet black hair on his forehead. As he got closer, I saw his flushed neck and the bead of sweat trembling on his throat. The call was from my father, asking me to attend a banquet. He said if I bowed my head, he would overlook my actions against the bastard daughter. Hilarious. A man so ruthless in his youth now pretending to care about family in his old age. I agreed lazily and hung up. "Young Miss." He tried to calm his breathing, standing before me. Watching his heaving chest, I realized he ran to me breathlessly like this every evening. Even today, when his body was at its limit. I scolded him lightly: "Why run so fast?" "Afraid you'd get bored waiting." My hand inserting the key paused. I glanced at him and said coolly: "Get in." "I came to pick you up. What's boring about that?" After buckling up, he turned his head, Adam's apple rolling, finally spitting out the sentence he'd been brewing. "Only took six hours today." "Mmh." "Didn't miss a shot either." "Mmh." He didn't need to report. Someone was already recording the data. Physical fitness, reaction speed—top tier. Back then, Six's best record was seven hours and three minutes. He broke it in a week. The livestream comments were arguing fiercely— [Impossible! A beastman stronger than the main cast?? Who is this? Doesn't this clash with our wolf boy's setting? Someone do something!!] [Why the rush? Forgot this is a reverse harem novel? Stronger beastmen are normal! Why the shock? They'll all fall for our heroine eventually.] [Exactly. Who wouldn't like our gentle, cute, praise-giving heroine? Once the little wolf sees the toxic woman's true colors, he'll run to our heroine's arms.] [Aiya, I really wish the heroine was here. The little wolf obviously wants praise!! Working so hard, gathering courage to ask, only to get a cold 'Mmh'! My heart aches for him!!] I've learned to ignore these brain-dead comments. But the last sentence made me pause. Asking for praise? 5 The car entered the city. The sunset glow enveloped the traffic jam on the overpass. I couldn't help glancing at the person in the passenger seat. Ears seemed to droop a bit, lips pursed. Looking down at the bloodstains on his body, lost in thought. I rehearsed in my mind several times before finally calling him. The boy beastman looked up, thick lashes trembling. Half his body drowning in the sunset, unexpectedly softening his murderous aura. Damn it. Words were on the tip of my tongue but couldn't come out. I hesitated. "Take a day off tomorrow," I finally said, gripping the steering wheel. Didn't praise, but showed concern. Shouldn't be disappointed, right? But after a brief stun, he told me: "I'm fine. I can continue training." I turned my head, looking down at his bloodstained calves. No rest? I frowned. The comments answered my confusion— [He thinks he didn't do well enough today, didn't meet the master's expectations. Poor little wolf, heroine come quick! The villain is destroying his confidence!] [Sigh, afraid of being abandoned for not being good enough, so he tries so hard to prove himself. Pity he met a heartless villain. If it were the heroine, she'd be praising him non-stop.] [Upstairs, let's be rational. The heroine has lots of love to give. But for someone like the villain who was never loved as a child, it's hard to learn to love others. I think I understand her.] [Defending this toxic woman?? No thanks. Her twisted personality is her problem. What did our little wolf do to deserve this?] The argument in the comments intensified. I ignored it, fixing my gaze on Seven's face. The sunset's afterglow fell on half his face, making the blood on his neck look bewitching. The spreading twilight was like splashed ink, dazzling enough to get lost in. My prolonged stare made his fingers curl tight, his heartbeat pounding harder and harder. He couldn't withstand such scrutiny. Earlobes burned hot, eyes uncontrollably lowering. Just as he tried to turn away in embarrassment to avoid my gaze, I spoke suddenly. "You were great today." His turning motion froze. I added: "So, you can rest tomorrow. That's a reward." The traffic finally started moving. Not everyone is born knowing how to love, but I don't mind learning a bit. Especially for this little wolf pup I'm raising myself.
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