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   "John Howlett was our honest and loyal partner."

"In his whole life, he has shown the greatest kindness to his family, friends, and everyone he gets along with. Now he is buried, and the time to pass away has come. He feels that beautiful life with the greatest love. When he leaves He has walked the way, he has kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for him the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give to John in that day. Not only to him, but also To all who love his appearing. Amen."

  Father Hans recited the eulogy solemnly and compassionately, and the crows on the rosebush howled without winking, beating time for the priest's lengthy tone. Elizabeth Howlett's face was pale, and the layers of black veils covered her face, and the black and white colors were so dazzling.

  James in his arms tightly pursed his lips, his little face was tense. He didn't cry, but it made all the people who saw this scene even more heartbroken. Such a young child lost his father, but tried his best to pretend to be strong, which made the guests who came to pay homage hate that devilish gardener even more.

  After the ceremony, James was the first to go to the coffin that was about to be filled with soil, put down a branch of white chrysanthemum, grabbed a handful of floating soil next to it and sprinkled it, and people stepped forward one by one to say their final goodbyes.

  Mr. Howlett stood far away. After everyone left, the old man picked up the shovel beside him, walked slowly to the grave, and filled the soil one by one.

  The originally gray hair and beard turned into silver frost, and the kindness and kindness brought by several years of comfortable life disappeared. It seemed that overnight, he became the man named "Bloodmane" again, but this time the blood red was stained by his son.

  Rose O'Hara looked at James who was walking in front of her, walked away from her mother, and took his hand. James turned his head and smiled reluctantly, but did not refuse.

He felt remorse and guilt in his heart, and he couldn't say how deeply he felt for John, but he could feel John Howlett's pure fatherly love. Maybe in a few years, he would truly integrate all his emotions and consciousness into this place. In time and space, he will sincerely accept this man, even if he knows deep down that this is not his "biological father."

   More importantly, John is a kind person and the most innocent person. He always believed that his former brother was only a drunkard and a **** because of his wife who died of dystocia. The disgust and hatred for him may be more indisputable, and even the moment the bullet entered his body, he might not believe that Thomas Logan would treat him like this.

   James' own careless behavior has brought unpredictable consequences, and the unprovoked death is the greatest tragedy.

  The surrounding manor owners seemed to think that the loss of their sons in their later years would crush Mr. Howlett. After they heard the news, they became restless and began to make provocative actions on the demarcated borderline of the pasture. Mr Howlett's inactivity until John Howlett's burial sparked more activity.

   On this very night, the day after the funeral, Mr. Howlett rode Black Mountain with little James in front. In front of him was the entire manor land illuminated by torches, and more than three hundred cavalrymen stood standing, which far exceeded everyone's estimation of his strength.

  Many faces are so familiar, the watchman in the manor, the servants, the farmers in the fields, and the guys on the horse farm. These brothers who accompanied Mr. Howlett to build his foundation stayed with him in another way. They put down their guns and picked up farm tools, gave birth to children, and tended the land, but they picked up guns again, just to be themselves again.

"I buried my son today, and I have time to deal with other things. It is unfortunate for people to encounter such a thing when they are old. Many people may think that I will lie on the bed at this moment and call my son's baby name. , They even wanted to come and see for themselves how I went with John. But they had no guts, they didn't have the guts to stand in front of William Howlett! Well, let's go to them and tell them if I'm the original Me, and you! You are still not the original 'wolves'!"

  He tightened his whip, whipped Black Mountain vigorously, and ran out of the manor, followed by the knights behind him like a fire dragon. Like a scorching sharp knife piercing the night...

   One night of non-stop rush, three towns and seven manors, 216 lives. For these, Mr. Howlett paid thirty-four old brothers. But he didn't hesitate for a moment from the beginning to the end, and even James, who had been in his arms all the time, didn't have the slightest resistance.

  He could feel the terribly small body of the grandson in his arms. He thought the child would be trembling all the time, and even begged him to go home and find his mother. And James watched the scenes pass by with wide eyes. Even if the chest of a teenager who looked the same age was opened, there was no change.

  Dawn was approaching, and the team finally returned with a bit of exhaustion. Mr. Howlett was suddenly inexplicably afraid that his grandson had been scared to death. He terribly regretted doing this. The child who was less than twelve years old had just lost his father, and seeing such a night of killing, he didn't dare to think about it.

   "Jam, Jamie?" asked Mr. Howlett tremblingly, speaking to James for the first time that night.

   "What's the matter, grandfather?" James turned his head to look at Mr. Howlett. Although his grandson hadn't slept all night, he looked exhausted, but his eyes were bright. Mr. Howlett's heart sank heavily. The moment he heard the response, Mr. Howlett aged rapidly as if under the illusion, and his spine that had been straight these days finally softened.

   "Sorry, Jamie."

  James looked at his grandfather strangely.

"The thing I promised you before was not done well, a very small thing was not done well..." James' heart seemed to ache at this moment, and he grabbed Mr. Howlett, who was covered in blood and gun oil. Mr. Howlett rubbed James's soft and thick black hair, and said, "Remember all this, deeply Remember."

   "I will, Grandfather."

  ...

   It wasn't until dawn that Victor Logan found a dead body full of crows and unknown birds in the wild valley at the far east of the ranch.

  His approach scared away these little guys who were eating breakfast. The corpses were already in tatters, especially the entire face was completely pecked to pieces, and it was impossible to distinguish the appearance. There were some carrion and fibers hanging from the two eye sockets. Victor picked up the corpse that was much taller than him, and walked vigorously towards the hillside.

  When the red sun was rising, he just climbed to the edge of the cliff at the top of the mountain, threw off the corpse on his shoulders, and just planed gravel and clods on the spot.

  He dug very quickly and with great force, and his fingers rotted within a few strokes, but the thick and long nails seemed not to be affected at all, and they vaguely grew longer.

  The fingertips were still bleeding, but what Victor himself didn't notice was that although the fingers had been worn and cracked, they always healed little by little, and they didn't get any worse. In this way, with one hand, he dug a pit deep enough for one person to lie in.

  Victor picked up the corpse beside him, threw it in neatly, and filled the hole. Picking and picking around, I found some stones, and laid them on the soil one by one.

"I won't set up a tombstone for you, lest someone dig your grave, a **** like you is not qualified to use a cross, and I don't know what the priest is saying, so let it be. Don't ask too much, my It's over. Father."

  Victor turned and

went down the mountain without looking back.