Chapter 50 What Kind of Scent Am I to You, Young Wolf?

Armand, seeing Ulysses getting angry, felt a sense of satisfaction at turning the tables. After regaining his composure, he took a big gulp of his drink and mocked, "Hey, can you use your brain a bit? I wasn't helping you; I was helping Farl, ensuring her safety by keeping her away from these lunatics. Her safety is my responsibility." "Otherwise... with your way of doing things, it wouldn't take long for Farl to be discovered by my crazy sister. She's fearless, in plain sight or in the shadows." Ulysses, indifferent, raised his glass high, slammed it on the counter, and with a menacing glare, scoffed, "She dare?! As long as I'm around, no one touches Farl! I'll tear her apart first!" Armand toyed with his half-empty glass, his tone more mocking, "She can try countless times, but you can't afford to fail once. And the cost of your failure is too great. Farl is too fragile, like a delicate porcelain doll." Ulysses signaled to the bartender, who promptly refilled their glasse