My off-road vehicle tore across the border line, but I didn't head toward the bustling human cities. Instead, I turned the wheel toward the one place every werewolf feared to tread: Death Valley.There, I found them. A pack of Rogues, cast out and exiled by their former tribes.They were a sorry sight—missing legs, blinded eyes, dressed in rags that barely clung to their emaciated frames. Their eyes held nothing but hollow despair.In my last life, I wasted my White Wolf gifts playing the dutiful housewife, cooking soup for two ungrateful Alphas.In this life, I would build my own order."From this day forward, there are no cripples here," I announced, standing atop a towering rock, my silver eyes sweeping over the discarded warriors. "There are only the conquerors of this land."I utilized the combat techniques I had memorized from my previous life, teaching them how to turn their disabilities into lethal advantages. I taught them to identify ancient, forgotten herbs to heal their rot
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