boyutpedia Chapter 32: The Wolf King's Dying Counterattack
Chapter 32: The Wolf King's Dying Counterattack
The blood and qi were extremely strong, with a rusty, astringent smell that clung to the nose and wouldn't leave.
The wailing gradually subsided, turning into sobs and muffled whimpers. The previously deafening curses dissipated into a buzzing discussion, like cicadas chirping in a locust tree on a summer afternoon—chaotic yet full of life. On the outskirts of the crowd, several teenagers, oblivious to their troubles, chased after the head that had rolled to the base of the wall—Zhao Mang's head, dusty and covered in bits of grass, its hair tangled in clumps. A boy in a coarse cloth jacket raised his foot to kick it, but his mother grabbed him by the back of his collar, pulling him back with a flushed face, cursing him as a "short-lived devil." But his eyes, unlike usual, were bright and piercing, as if they held a newly lit spark—a newfound sense of triumph, a feeling of being in control, even his scolding carried a hint of relief.
Standing on the stone platform of the old stage, Uncle Zhang's voice was hoarse, yet still resonant. "The old rice from Chen Fuhai's granary, first send it to Old Man Zhang and Crippled Li's families at the west end—" He paused, coughed twice, his knuckles white from gripping his pipe tightly, "Their family is almost starving, the children are crying for food, so give the kids priority." Several old men beside him nodded in agreement. One, wearing a felt hat, wiped the sweat from his brow and said, "Those leather armors from the Demon Suppression Division, though worn, can at least protect against wolf claws. Let Shi Hu's men wear them." Uncle Zhang agreed, his gaze sweeping across the audience, landing on the section of the city wall at the east end that had collapsed halfway. His brows furrowed: "The breach in the city wall must be plugged. Even if it means tearing down our own doors, we'll rebuild it first."
Shi Hu, leaning on his single arm with a wood-chopping knife, stood upright beside the crowd, the blood on the blade congealed, a dark red stain like frozen syrup. He stood like an old pine tree struck by lightning, his remaining arm bulging with muscles, veins crawling like earthworms beneath his skin. His twenty-odd men, still dressed in patched-up rags, had frighteningly bright eyes, like eagles crouching in the shadows, scanning the crowd with a wary gaze. Several boys from the refugee camp surrounded them, chattering about the events of the previous night in the mountains. One boy in straw sandals reached for the knife, but Shi Hu glared at him, causing him to pull his hand back, though his face still wore an admiring smile, his eyes shining brighter than the sun.
Lin Yan leaned against the old locust tree, its shadow so thick it resembled impenetrable ink, casting dappled sunlight on his face. His eyes were closed, long eyelashes casting faint shadows beneath them. After a series of fierce battles, his bones felt like they were about to fall apart, especially the wound on his lower back where the wolf's claws had scratched him; it ached from the sweat, feeling as if a tiny worm was crawling inside his flesh. The Devouring Spirit True Essence within his body circulated slowly, like lukewarm water, gently soothing the subtle, hidden wounds. The mark on his chest was now just the right temperature, not as scorching as before, but like a warm piece of jade, subtly reminding him—the threshold of the Profound Realm was within reach; he only needed to catch his last breath. He needed stillness, even if only for a moment, to dissolve the spiritual energy from the wolf he had swallowed the previous night, to stabilize his current state of perfect Body Tempering. His fingertips could already touch that thin, translucent window; he just needed a little more force.
Su Qingyao sat by a half-collapsed earthen wall not far away, revealing the brown rammed earth beneath, stained with withered grass. She clutched the bone fragment in her hand; its icy touch traveled from her fingertips up her arm to her heart, calming her turbulent emotions somewhat. The patterns on the bone fragment pressed against her fingertips, like the carvings of an old carpenter; the strange symbols gleamed faintly in the sunlight, and staring at them for too long made her dizzy. Her gaze drifted, sometimes landing on Zhang Bo's trembling blue shirt in the crowd, sometimes on Canglang Mountain—the dark green mountain range stretching endlessly, like a colossal beast crouching in the distance, always weighing heavily on her heart. Chen Fuhai was dead, Zhao Mang was dead, but what about Liu Dutou, behind them? And the things she hadn't understood in the Wolf Den, the fire, the demonic writing—they were like fine needles pricking her heart, causing a dull ache. Things would not end so easily. She had a feeling that the peace in Blackrock Town was just the calm before the storm.
In the midst of this chaotic tranquility, a howl drifted from the west.
At first, it was extremely distant, like a muffled groan coming from the belly of a mountain, broken and scattered by the wind. The chatter in the town was too loud, and many people didn't hear it at all, still shouting their gossips. But Lin Yan heard it. The sound was like a thin thorn, piercing his ear unexpectedly. He opened his eyes abruptly, his eyelashes trembled, and the weariness in his eyes instantly vanished, leaving only a sharp light. He abruptly turned his head to look west—in the direction of Canglang Mountain, where the dark green shadow seemed to move.
The second howl followed closely, much closer and more solid. It was no longer a muffled groan, but a heart-wrenching roar, like a rusty iron saw grinding against bone, sharp enough to pierce one's brain. It contained a pain that went to the bone, a hatred that reached its extreme, and a kind of mad, desperate despair—it made one's teeth ache and the hairs on one's body stand on end.
"Awooo—Roar—!!!"
The town's clamor abruptly ceased, as if someone had suddenly grabbed its throat. Uncle Zhang's hand, holding his pipe, froze in mid-air, the tobacco shreds falling from between his fingers; the man under Shi Hu, who was telling the boy about the war, stopped mid-sentence, his mouth still agape; even the children chasing each other stopped, their round eyes wide, their smiles fading into blank stares.
The howls came one after another, growing closer and more urgent, like the urgent beat of a death knell. The sound had long lost the wolf king's usual majesty; it was no longer a deep roar, but the mournful howl of a dying beast, yet it was more terrifying than ever—every cry was filled with blood and hatred, as if it wanted to drag the entire mountain and the whole town down to hell to be buried with them.
"Is...is it the Wolf King?" a man in gray cloth asked in a trembling voice, his teeth chattering and his voice barely audible. He had just lost his son, and the tear stains on his face were still wet. Now his face was pale, even more so than plaster on a wall.
"It's not dead? It's come for revenge!" More people realized what was happening, and the color drained from their faces in an instant. The excitement they had felt after turning the tables was instantly swallowed up by fear. Some people's legs went weak, and they slid down the wall to the ground, muttering "It's over, it's over," their eyes vacant, as if they had lost their souls.
Lin Yan's face darkened. With a swift movement, he leaped onto the rooftop beside him, using the roots of the locust tree as footsteps. The tiles clicked softly under his weight. He shaded his eyes with his hand, peering out—the sunlight was too intense, forcing him to squint, but the scene in the distance was crystal clear. At the foot of Canglang Mountain, a dark swarm of birds took flight, like ink specks scattered by the wind, desperately trying to escape upwards. Then, the forest stirred. It wasn't just the wind swaying; entire swathes of trees fell to one side, the cracking sounds carried by the wind. Dust billowed into the sky, and within it, faint gray-black shadows ran and leaped, emitting a chorus of howls, like a pack of enraged demons.
The figure at the very front was dazzlingly silver.
It is the Bloodfang Wolf King.
Dozens of demonic wolves followed behind it, all wounded. But they all had red eyes, bared their broken fangs, and howled as they followed the wolf king like a group of death warriors led by their master—their target was all too clear: Blackstone Town, and the people who had destroyed everything they had.
Lin Yan's heart pounded, not with fear, but with anxiety. Half of the wall of Blackstone Town had collapsed, and the townspeople's weapons were either hoes or carrying poles; they didn't even have a decent weapon. If this pack of mad wolves rushed in, it would be a massacre. All those lively smiling faces, those buzzing discussions, those children's playful antics would all turn into bloodstains on the ground, rolling at the base of the wall, just like Zhao Mang's head.
"Enemy attack—!!!"
Lin Yan took a deep breath; the mark on his chest burned intensely, as if it were helping him breathe. He roared, his voice like thunder, drowning out the distant wolf howls and shaking the roof tiles. The townspeople shuddered at the roar, and even those sprawled on the ground raised their heads.
"Old, weak, women and children, go home immediately! Lock the doors shut and hide in the cellar!" Lin Yan's voice was fast and urgent, but every word was clear, like nails piercing people's hearts. "All able-bodied men, grab your weapons! Hoes, carrying poles, kitchen knives, anything will do! Assemble at the gap in the east wall! Shi Hu! Uncle Zhang! Take men and guard it!" His gaze swept over the panicked crowd below, and the steadiness in his eyes was like a stabilizing force, forcefully suppressing some of the panic.
Shi Hu was the first to move. With a single arm, he swung his wood-chopping knife, which gleamed coldly in the sunlight. "Brothers! Follow me! If we can't hold the east wall, we'll all be wolf food!" His roar was hoarse, yet it carried a ruthless, desperate spirit. The twenty-odd men responded in unison, their voices deafening. They scattered, some fetching leather armor from the Demon Suppression Bureau, others knocking on doors, shouting "Grab your weapons!" In the chaos, they carved a path through the crowd.
Uncle Zhang threw down his pipe, crushed it to pieces, and roared with red eyes, "If you're a man, don't cower! Wives, take the kids home! Hurry!" He pushed his way through the crowd, grabbed a trembling young man, and shoved him toward the east wall. "Your father died in the wolf's mouth, now it's your turn to avenge him!" The young man was stunned for a moment, then his face gradually turned red. He grabbed a hoe from the ground and ran after Uncle Zhang.
The town was in complete chaos. Cries, footsteps, and the clanging of hoes against stones mingled together, but it was no longer a desperate chaos. The men, clutching their weapons, their faces pale and hands trembling, did not stop, following Shi Hu and Uncle Zhang towards the east wall; the women, dragging their children and supporting the elderly, stumbled and ran home. The wooden doors creaked shut, and from inside came the thud of the door being pushed shut, along with the suppressed cries of children.
Su Qingyao darted over, stepping across the roof tiles, her skirt fluttering in the wind. Her face was pale, her lips pressed tightly together, the bone shard in her hand clenched until it was icy cold, her knuckles white, yet her eyes remained steady, without a trace of panic. "It's too badly injured, it's at its last gasp, but the worse it is, the more we must fight." She looked at the approaching dust cloud in the distance, her voice urgent, "We don't have enough manpower, and the wall is broken; we can't stop it at all."
"We have to stop it, even if we can't." Lin Yan's gaze didn't leave the silver figure as he estimated the distance. "We can't let it into the town; we have to stop it outside."
"What do you want to do?" Su Qingyao grabbed his arm, the coolness of her fingertips reaching him. "Even if it's weak, it's still a Profound Realm cultivator. If you go alone, you're just throwing your life away."
Lin Yan paused for a moment, the mark on his chest burning hotter and hotter, and the Devouring Spirit True Essence within him surged restlessly, like a rushing river, causing a slight pain in his meridians. He glanced at the townspeople below—Uncle Zhang's white hair fluttering in the wind, Shi Hu wielding a machete with one arm, directing the men, and the young men clutching hoes, their faces pale but still charging forward. He smiled, a smile tinged with madness and certainty: "It's a Profound Realm cultivator, just right."
Su Qingyao was taken aback, then understood. Her hand loosened, her eyes filled with worry, yet also with understanding—she knew that Lin Yan had waited far too long for this opportunity.
"This is my chance." Lin Yan gently pulled his hand away from hers, his gaze sharp as a knife. "A fight to the death is the only way out. Whether I can break through to the next level depends on this." He turned to look at her, his eyes filled with entrustment, determination, and a reassuring calmness. "You help me guard the town, appease them, and delay as much as possible. Leave the Wolf King to me."
Su Qingyao looked into his eyes, opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end only nodded, "Be careful."
Lin Yan glanced at her one last time, then at the panicked yet still resisting townspeople below, and at the blood-stained yet still vibrant town. The next moment, his figure blurred, his swift talent fully activated, and he slid down the rooftops like an arrow released from a bow, his footsteps treading on the bloodstains, running against the flow of the town's outskirts—not towards the crowded east wall, but towards the direction where the smoke and dust were thickest and the wolf howls were loudest. His grey-black robes fluttered in the wind, like a bird flying against the current, plunging into the shadow of destruction.
In the distance, the wolf king's blood-red eyes seemed to pierce through the smoke and dust, locking onto the lone human running towards it. It let out an even more ferocious howl, filled with mockery and murderous intent, and dragged its broken body, running even faster—