In the pitch-black night, the vast plains were densely wooded.
A weasel as tall as half a human spoke in human tongue, blocking the way ahead, its yellow fur gleaming like silk. Clad in green gold armor and wearing a helmet, and with faint electrical light swirling around its body, it looked rather extraordinary no matter how you saw it.
"What do you want by blocking my path?" Qin Ming asked.
"Young man ignorant of the immensity of heaven and earth, you slaughtered a group of young and strong from the Wolf Ridge, and now you ask knowingly," said the Weasel with an air of worldly wisdom.
"What does it have to do with you?" Qin Ming coldly asked.
The slender Weasel stood there and said, "As part of the Wolf Clan, they all have to call me Uncle Huang, what do you think?"
Qin Ming looked carefully and confirmed it was a Yellow Weasel, not something from the Wolf Clan, and said, "If you miss your nephews that much, then follow them, the whole family can be together, reunited."
