Chapter Twelve: The Demon Wolf on a Snowy Night

Baidu Girl looked downward and indeed saw a small hole in the snow, but whatever had entered it swiftly used its hind legs to fill the entrance. She paused in surprise, but was soon distracted by a faint sound in the distance. Instantly, she transformed into a ray of light and drifted away.

What Zhou Yu had feared finally happened. The overly anthropomorphized Baidu Girl was like a child, insatiably curious about all things new, and seemed to have forgotten her most important duty—keeping watch.

Inside the snow cave, Zhou Yu, lost in a dream, turned over. His eyes, tightly shut, were etched with pain and unwillingness. He opened his mouth and finally cried out, “Don’t go! I will succeed!” The old man opened his eyes with a sigh, murmuring softly, “After so many nights of listening, I finally understand a little.” Gazing at the snowflakes drifting outside the cave, he closed his eyes, almost as if talking in his sleep: “Youth is wonderful, only the young can burn so fiercely. But why, when awake, are you so different?”

Gradually, Zhou Yu quieted, no longer calling out, his breathing growing deep and steady. The world was reduced to nothing but the sound of falling snow—a profound silence.

Suddenly, a faint rustling came from afar, and the old man’s ears twitched.

In the vast whiteness, dozens of raised lines appeared in the snow, all stretching toward where Zhou Yu and the old man slept. About a hundred meters away, they halted.

A shadow emerged from the snow. Its body was clad in a chaotic mix of black and white fur, like a spirit come to claim souls in the night. Its long, white fangs glimmered with a bluish sheen, glinting in the starlight—clearly, those fangs dripped with deadly poison. Its eyes were so dark they seemed bottomless, exuding cruelty and the scent of blood.

The demon wolf’s hollow belly contracted hungrily—this was a starving beast. Yet, after breaking the surface, it did not immediately attack, choosing instead to wait. Only when a dozen or more demon wolves had gathered on the snow did it take a single step forward. This black-and-white mottled demon wolf bore a long scar across its face, an ever-present testament to its ferocity and cruelty.

First, it advanced with light steps, then broke into a run. When only twenty meters remained, the wolves surged forward in a wild charge toward the snow cave where Zhou Yu and the old man slept.

One wolf, tall and powerfully built, was especially formidable. It moved with startling speed, a shadow in the night, reaching the cave’s entrance in a flash. Without hesitation, jaws parted, blood-red tongue lolling, it charged inside, its fangs poised to tear through sleeping flesh!

The wolf’s body, like an arrow loosed from the string, claws slicing the air.

But a sword was swifter than its body, sharper than its claws!

With a hiss, a flash of white light erupted from within the snow cave, slicing the first wolf in two.

The snow, unable to withstand the force of such a fierce sword aura, began to collapse. The old man crawled out slowly and with difficulty, and, without so much as a glance, flicked his hand backward, sending another sword aura that felled a second wolf.

A gaunt demon wolf with a long scar on its face halted its charge, raised its head, and howled.

The other wolves, still rushing forward, stopped and slowed at the sound, though their momentum dragged them across the snow, leaving a dozen long furrows.

Seizing the moment, the old man unleashed sword auras in all directions, instantly killing five more demon wolves. Their blood steamed on the snow, only to freeze in moments.

The surviving wolves retreated cautiously. Wolves are clever creatures; the scarred demon wolf, sensing things had gone awry, pulled back immediately and signaled the others to do the same.

At that moment, Zhou Yu was startled awake by the howl. He crawled out of the snow cave, glanced at the corpses in the snow, then at the wolves still glaring hungrily from a distance. Rubbing his hands together, his face was alight with excitement: “Time to level up by slaying monsters at last.”

The old man said nothing, kicking the giant sword planted in the ground toward Zhou Yu. Then he sat cross-legged, pulled a wine flask from his belt, and began to drink.

Zhou Yu caught the sword one-handed, spat in his palm, wiped it off, and gripped the coarse, tattered hilt with both hands. Feeling the roughness, he strode toward the six remaining demon wolves.

The wolves growled low in their throats, their bristling backs like iron quills, snarling at Zhou Yu as he approached. But, perhaps cowed by the old man’s might, they dared not attack.

The scarred, gaunt wolf glanced at the bodies of its fallen kin, then at Zhou Yu steadily advancing. Its eyes grew blood-red, as vivid as rubies about to bleed.

Lowering its front, hind legs taut with gathering strength, the wolf poised itself for a fatal strike as soon as Zhou Yu entered its range.

Zhou Yu had long noticed this lean wolf. Of all the demon wolves, it was the calmest, neither baring its teeth nor ceaselessly growling.

It’s the silent dog that bites, the silent wolf that kills.

He tightened his grip on the sword and took another step forward. In that instant, a demon wolf lunged—like black lightning, tearing through the night.

A sharp swish—the battered old sword was, in that moment, swift and deadly. All his days of practicing quick strikes bore fruit. As the wolf leapt, Zhou Yu’s brows flicked upward, and without a thought, he slashed, cutting the beast in two.

Yet, though he felled the wolf with a single stroke, Zhou Yu did not feel at ease. Sweat beaded on his back, for this was the fastest, sharpest cut he could muster.

The gaunt wolf howled again. At its call, the others retreated several steps; the scarred wolf advanced, slow and unyielding.

The wolf’s blood-red eyes flicked toward the old man, seeing he paid them no mind, and it stepped forward again. Clearly, this was a wolf of rare intelligence and cunning.

“So, you want a duel?” Zhou Yu halted, leveling the giant sword before his chest, adjusting its angle with each step the wolf took.

The wolf’s steps had a rhythm, sometimes quick, sometimes slow, but every stride covered the same distance.

Zhou Yu’s expression grew more grave than ever. Days of practicing slow strikes had honed his eye for movement, yet this wolf’s approach was elusive, hard to read. He slowed his breath, barely moving, sword shifting in his hands, sweat beading at his brow.

Step by step, the wolf drew closer, but neither attacked. The sword tip hovered less than three inches from the wolf’s forehead—one stroke could split it in two—yet Zhou Yu waited, eyes fixed unblinking on its every move. The reek of blood filled his nostrils, sweat soaked his clothes, turning to mist in the cold night air.

The wolf halted, its blood-red eyes locked on Zhou Yu.

Tension and focus sharpened Zhou Yu’s gaze, now cold and bloodthirsty, outmatching even the wolf’s crimson glare. He stared back fiercely, eyes brimming with killing intent, so intense it seemed almost tangible.

Suddenly, the gaunt wolf retreated, a flash of fear in its blood-red eyes.

A cornered man can be more terrifying than any beast. The killing intent Zhou Yu exuded in that moment struck fear into the wolf’s heart.

Zhou Yu seized the instant. Suddenly, the heavy sword in his hand, once moving slowly, now flashed with astonishing speed. His body moved like a gust of wind, the sword a bolt of lightning. A crimson mist spun in the darkness as the lean wolf was cleaved in two.

The old man, having set down his wine flask, nodded at Zhou Yu in satisfaction.

Just then, a thunderous roar shattered the distance! A torrent of black demonic energy shot into the sky, gathering into dark clouds that blotted out the stars.