All Chapters of A Werewolf's Growth and Redemption: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

In the darkness of the cargo compartment, Ethan had meticulously prepared all the necessary items for the ritual. The air was thick with palpable anxiety, as if every passing moment was a relentless test of our resolve. I carefully poured the blood into the chalice, my hands trembling slightly—whether from nerves or exhaustion, I couldn’t tell. The blood shimmered with a mysterious glow under the dim light, casting an ominous prelude to the life-or-death decision that lay ahead.Ethan stood beside me, his voice low and solemn. “Master, this is the third time we are going to resurrect him. Are you sure we should continue?” His eyes were filled with worry and confusion, clearly troubled by the lingering concerns about the depletion of my werewolf powers. Although this issue weighed heavily on his mind, my own focus remained firmly on the imperative of Neil’s revival.I looked into Ethan's eyes, sensing his deep concern for me. Despite the heavy weight of anxiety and uncertainty that fil

Then Peter suddenly became serious, with a touch of playful mystery, and began sharing an interesting story from recent events. "You know," he said, "I recently had something quite amusing happen. A kid, probably around twenty, suddenly appeared in front of me, trying to assassinate me." His tone was light, as if he were recounting a joke.Harry was taken aback for a moment, then asked with curiosity, “And then? Did you just let him go? Is that even possible?”I shook my head with a smile and said, “Not a chance. Our Peter Black isn’t exactly a philanthropist.”Peter rolled his eyes and retorted, “I’m not a philanthropist, but I’m not the kind of person you’re imagining either, okay?” His expression was serious, though his tone carried a hint of resignation.I continued to play dumb, “What are we talking about?”Harry chimed in with a tease, “Yeah, someone must be feeling guilty and letting their imagination run wild.”Peter looked at us with exasperation, “You two can stop pretending

After spending several hours, I finally finished reviewing all the information Ethan had sent me. The background, experiences, behavior, and family details of the twins, Nicholas and Nelson, were laid out in front of me in meticulous detail. Ethan's analysis made perfect sense—there was nothing in their story that remotely resembled Neil's, not even their demeanor. Nicholas came across as overly composed and ruthless, while Nelson, though younger, was alarmingly volatile and combative. This starkly contrasted with Neil’s innocence and kindness. As I pondered these differences, a slight sense of relief washed over me, but deep down, my lingering doubts remained unresolved.In order to gather more information, I decided to have my assistant, Rizo, look into the Yimo family. After all, this situation involved the business realm, and Rizo's expertise in that area made him a far better fit than Ethan. Besides, Rizo was on my payroll, so I wouldn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about reachi

I clenched my fists, my heart swirling with complex emotions. The identity of that boy was becoming increasingly clear; I was nearly certain he was the person I had been searching for. Yet even so, his pain and experiences weighed heavily on me, filling me with guilt and sorrow. The suffering he endured was far beyond anything I could have imagined.I looked at Nick and asked, “Do you have any idea who might have paid off your debts? Was it the Yimo family? If so, why would they help you?” My tone was tinged with urgency, eager to uncover any leads on the whereabouts of that boy.Nick frowned slightly, lowering his head as if lost in thought. “I didn’t know it was the Yimo family at first,” he said, his voice laced with weariness and resignation. “But later I heard that the boy was sold, and the money went to pay off our debts. Peter helped me investigate, and that’s when I found out it was the Yimo family.”“Sold?” Peter's voice suddenly rose, filled with shock and anger, disbelief e

At that moment, a soft knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. To my surprise, the visitor was Ethan, and I felt a mix of shock and unease. As I opened the door, the man before me was no longer the precocious figure I remembered. Time had etched deep lines on his face, and the cost of the resurrection ritual had transformed him into a frail, elderly man of seventy. In that instant, my heart ached for him, filled with a profound sense of regret.Ethan gave a faint smile, as if he could read my feelings. “I knew you wouldn’t be asleep yet, so I came over without asking,” he said, his voice hoarse but still carrying that characteristic calmness. Though time had stripped him of his youthful appearance, his keen insight into others remained unchanged.“It's fine; you guessed correctly,” I replied, forcing a smile to suppress my unease. “I was just reviewing some documents and brainstorming our next steps.”“Why don’t you let me lend you hand?” Ethan suggested casually. But I knew that h