Chapter Seven: The Demon Wolf

Staring at that shadow of black, Chen Ming abruptly lifted his head, his divine eyes piercing through all illusion. Beneath a blur of darkness, he saw a jet-black wolf crouched within the gloom, its cold gaze fixed upon the spectral soldiers ahead.

Then, in less than an instant, the wolf launched itself at a man with astonishing speed. Nearby, Bagel felt a streak of darkness rush past, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Before him, a warrior locked in struggle with a malevolent spirit was struck fiercely from behind. In a single blow, the sturdy, pitch-black wooden armor he wore was shattered, revealing the soul within, wrapped in divine power.

Bagel’s heart turned cold. Since Chen Ming had bestowed the wooden armor upon them, no enemy had ever managed to break through it in battle—yet today, a single demonic wolf had done the impossible. Still, he hesitated not for a moment. Seeing that the wolf, having gravely wounded its target, meant to continue its slaughter, Bagel abandoned his current foe and swung his great blade, charging at the beast.

Across from him, the demonic wolf sensed a faint threat from behind just as it was about to press forward. Whipping around, it let out a low snarl as black mist billowed around it, making it appear ghostlike as it lunged at Bagel with bared fangs.

Seeing the beast whirl back to attack, Bagel’s expression shifted. Fear flickered in his eyes. Not long ago, it was wolves like these that had driven him deep into the forest, where he ultimately fell to evil spirits. Gritting his teeth, he thought of Chen Ming watching from afar, and of the hundred spectral soldiers surrounding him. His heart steadied: “O my god, watch over me!”

With a silent cry, he cast aside all else, focusing solely on the adversary before him. Raising his long blade, he swung at the wolf.

The beast grinned, as if mocking his efforts, making no attempt to dodge—charging straight ahead.

Clang!

Blade and wolf skull collided, unleashing a forceful shockwave that rang out like a clash of metal. Both combatants were flung backward.

“Impossible!” Bagel roared internally, staring at his foe.

The wolf, knocked aside by the blow, shook its head as if entirely unscathed. But as Bagel looked more closely, he saw a faint line of blood appear atop the wolf’s head, slowly seeping black.

Relief surged through him—it could be wounded. Otherwise, this fight would be hopeless.

The wolf shook its head, feeling the wound, a cold, bloodthirsty light glinting in its eyes. It glared savagely at Bagel, body tensing as it prepared to attack again.

At that moment, a green glimmer appeared. From the earth, a vine as thick as a child’s arm shot up, ensnaring the wolf’s hind leg and holding it fast.

In the distance, Largus tightened his grip, causing the vine to send out several smaller tendrils, binding the wolf’s other leg as well.

Now the surrounding soldiers responded. Under the command of a burly man whose face was as dark as iron, some blocked the remaining evil spirits on the field, while others surrounded the wolf at his order.

This burly commander wore pitch-black armor and carried a long spear, exuding great authority. Unlike the other soldiers, his armor bore intricate patterns, densely etched and faintly glowing—a mark of the higher-level Wood Armor Technique.

He was one of the spirits Chen Ming had encountered on his journey, once the chief of a tribe. Though his fate was not as extraordinary as Largus, he was still marked by destiny—different from the ordinary. Chen Ming had immediately appointed him as commander over a hundred soldiers.

He approached the wolf, thrusting his spear with a flash of light at its tip. At the same time, Bagel stepped forward, slashing hard at the immobilized beast.

The wolf tried to break free, but the vines tightened, holding it fast. Blade and spear struck together, and the wolf let out a wretched howl, collapsing to the ground—yet its head still lifted, breath lingering.

Bagel and the burly commander exchanged glances, alarmed. They had struck with all their might, and yet the wolf still lived.

Around them, the soldiers closed in, ready to finish the beast off. But suddenly, the scene shifted.

From afar came a thunderous sound, as if some colossal creature were charging toward them. Simultaneously, the dying wolf on the ground let out a mournful, exhausted howl to the sky.

The approaching thunder grew louder, nearer, and heavier, raising clouds of dust. As the haze cleared and the figures beyond emerged, everyone’s expression changed.

There, across from them, stood more than a dozen black demonic wolves, each as tall as a man, exuding a fierce and savage aura of bloodlust. At their head was a wolf as large as a hill, its fur glinting like gold-plated iron, and its eyes, twin lanterns, coldly surveyed the crowd below.

It did nothing but step forward, one pace at a time. The wolves around it bowed their heads in submission. A pressure vast and deep as the sea swept over the assembly.

Bagel and the others felt their bodies go rigid. No matter how they screamed within, yearning to surge forward and fight, their spectral forms remained frozen, as if turned to stone.

“Move, damn you!” Bagel and the commander raged inwardly, their powerful arms trembling, yet they could not lift their weapons.

The giant wolf remained unmoved, its chilling gaze sweeping over the spectral soldiers as it advanced, the stench of blood growing ever stronger with its every step.

Bagel gritted his teeth, trembling violently, straining with all his might. As he struggled desperately, as if sensing mortal peril, a pure white essence above his head began to quake and writhe.

At last, a beam of light enveloped him, a warm current flowing through his soul. With a sudden roar, he forced himself to take a single step forward—then collapsed, utterly spent.

From behind, Chen Ming watched Bagel with a touch of approval. Through his eyes, he saw the great white essence atop Bagel’s head burst forth, revealing a streak of pure white tinged with red—a sign of destiny transformed.

Great terror lies between life and death, but in that crucible, the essence of destiny is most likely to be elevated. That Bagel could achieve this, even with Chen Ming’s aid, was beyond expectation.

But Chen Ming’s gaze soon grew grave as he looked upon the wolves, especially the wolf king at their fore.

He could no longer rely on the spectral soldiers. Though their souls were condensed, these soldiers had lost their mortal bodies. Facing spirits was one thing; but against these extraordinary, flesh-and-blood creatures, they were at a dire disadvantage, especially since the demonic wolves were steeped in baleful energy and on the verge of transformation—born enemies to the spectral host. As for the wolf king, even with all his soldiers combined, he could not hope to defeat it.

Sensing Chen Ming’s scrutiny, the wolf king slowly turned its gaze from the soldiers to Chen Ming, its disdain fading to wariness.

It raised its head, those immense, ghostly green eyes locking coldly onto Chen Ming.

Chen Ming could not help but grumble inwardly: “Is this really the wolf king? Kuruba and the others managed to escape from a beast like this? Are they sure they didn’t mistake an ordinary demonic wolf for the king?”

In his view, the wolf king was wreathed in darkness, shadowy mist swirling about it, kin to the very haze that shrouded the world—an eerie, unnatural presence. A nameless sense of danger crept upon him.

“This is no ordinary creature. Who would have thought a casual outing would bring me face to face with such a being?”

Elsewhere, Chen Ming stood atop the cliff, his face calm as he mused quietly to himself.