A miraculous power swirled within Qiuqiu's body. The old, mangy dog, once on the verge of death, seemed infused with boundless vitality as it slowly pushed itself to its feet.
'My little master was a hero. I have to be his pride, too.'
"I know, I know where those children are!"
In truth, Qiuqiu was just a little mutt, taken home only because its owners were kind people. They were good parents who hoped that letting their son interact with small animals from a young age would help him grow into a loving, gentle, and patient man.
Qiuqiu had forgotten some of its more distant memories, but it would never forget how its little master had rushed to help an old woman who had fallen. It was then that the bad men had gagged him and dragged him away.
From that day on, the scent of those men was seared into its very bones.
