On the high slope of the deepest part of the vast primeval forest, a sturdy white wolf squatted.

It was tilting its furry head up, its dark blue eyes staring straight at the bright moon in the sky.

Its eyes are fierce and profound, but under closer inspection, it reveals a slight sense of loneliness and loneliness.

At this moment, no living creature that does not know whether it is alive or dead will dare to disturb it, because the aborigines who live in the mountains know it.

Whenever there is a moonlit night, the king of the forest comes here to watch the moon.

A sitting is a night, and no animal knows how many years such a habit has lasted.

It's just that they know from their ancestors that since their earliest ancestors, the wolf king has existed here, like the guardian of the bright moon in the sky.

Suddenly, the bright moon flashed, and the center of the moon appeared as red as snowflakes.

But the change came too quickly and disappeared so quickly that in a matter of seconds the moon returned to normal.

No one would notice the fleeting change, except for the wolf.

I saw that the white wolf, who was still motionless just now, suddenly stretched out his head and roared, and the hoarse roar seemed to be whimpering with countless grievances, and the hearts of those who listened trembled tremblingly.

The wolf's heart was excited, and his eyes were even more watery.

The vicissitudes of life, the rotation of the sun and the moon.

It's been thousands of years, and it's finally been waiting.

Master, Yue'er, little moon, have you finally come to look for me!

"Fourth Uncle, Your Moon is Presumptuous Again" wedge: The wolf is hitting the moon in his hand, please wait a while,

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