...
"It seems the old fox can no longer restrain himself. Look, you've riled him up, and he's actually sent someone to assassinate me. Hmph, these monsters and demons of the Remote Border Wolves, a rabbit's tail can't grow long," Old Summer harbored hatred for these scourges, traitors seeking glory, utterly shameless, and at the same time, he felt profound sorrow. The Remote Border Wolves could no longer return to their former days.
The injuries I sustained earlier were a feint, but the assassination attempt was real. The old fox had planned to kill me during my inspection trip. Thanks to timely notification from an old brother-in-arms, I was able to turn the tables, pretending to be wounded from the stabbing to confuse the enemy.
Thinking of this, Old Summer's solid fist knocked on the newcomer's shoulder as a silent thank you.
The visitor nodded silently, agreeing with Old Summer's words, a look of worry creasing his brow.
