Chapter Fifty-Two: These Goods Are Unreliable

Yang Fan began to run through the forest, more than twenty wild wolves in hot pursuit behind him. The silver-furred wolf king, its body stained with blood, still raced in the center of the pack. Just after the silver wolf had howled, Yang Fan had continued his fierce struggle with it. He had barely managed to slash a gash across its spine when the pack returned.

The wolves’ fearless determination to protect their king made Yang Fan’s hair stand on end.

The roles of attacker and defender had now reversed.

Yang Fan began to fight as he retreated, at first intending to head toward the lake. However, the silver wolf, whether by design or instinct, blocked his path every time he tried to break through toward the water’s edge, sacrificing its pack without hesitation.

Left with no other choice, Yang Fan was forced further and further from the water source.

He cursed through gritted teeth, his face twisted in frustration: “I knew those idiots were unreliable! Ordinary beasts wouldn’t be able to stop them—truly useless. Give me just five more minutes and I’d have finished off that silver wolf. Dammit, what a bunch of incompetents.”

Though he muttered curses, his feet did not slow. He darted nimbly through the woods, ever wary of the claws of the wolves snapping at his heels.

There was nothing for it; when it came to speed on foot in the forest, even a third-rank cultivator would struggle to keep ahead of these beasts, let alone someone at Yang Fan’s second rank—unless he was willing to burn through his energy and unleash his battle arts.

But Yang Fan dared not recklessly expend his energy here. If he exhausted himself, death would be inevitable.

Meanwhile, the silver wolf, in the midst of its pack, continued to howl incessantly.

It too was furious. Since it had become the leader, never had it been so humiliated. All four gray wolf lieutenants had fallen to the man running ahead, and its own lethal fangs had been shattered, its back gashed by a blade—a disgrace beyond bearing.

Within a hundred miles, nothing had ever frightened it, aside from the white tiger. Yet today, it had suffered a crushing defeat; most of its followers were dead or wounded, and its four gray wolf lieutenants had been slain.

No matter the cost, it had to kill this man today—otherwise, there would be no calming the pack. There might not be an outright rebellion, but giving orders in the future would be unpredictable.

With this resolve, the silver wolf’s gaze grew even more determined.

With so many subordinates now gathered, the silver wolf’s heart was set.

Up ahead, Yang Fan was running, his strength draining steadily. He had already expended much of his stamina underwater, then fought upon reaching the shore, and was now fleeing for his life.

He pulled a small bottle from his pocket and swallowed one of the pills inside—a second-rank Vitality Recovery Pill.

The medicinal power surged through him, flooding his body and filling him with a sudden sense of renewed strength.

Of course, this was an illusion. The pill was no miracle elixir and could not instantly restore him; that feeling of vigor was merely the deceptive effect of its potent energy.

Yang Fan continued to run, occasionally leaping into the trees, but each time he was driven down by the silver wolf. Ordinary wolves could not climb, but the first-rank silver wolf, with its powerful claws and momentum, managed to reach him.

Eventually, Yang Fan stopped trying to escape into the trees. Being forced down each time left him surrounded by wolves, and though he could kill one or two as he broke through, his energy drained even faster.

He had precious few vitality pills left. He’d only ever exchanged for fifteen in total; ten had been used during training, and he’d already taken two more in this desperate flight, leaving only three. If they were all spent on these wild wolves, he would have nothing left for the true target ahead.

As he ran, his mind raced with plans to eliminate the pursuing pack. Whittling them down bit by bit was possible, but the numbers were against him. Should he be surrounded, injury—or worse—was a real risk, especially with the first-rank silver wolf lurking nearby for an opening.

At first, some wolves would break formation and rush at him, but after Yang Fan took two of them by surprise, this stopped. The silver wolf kept the pack moving in unison; if Yang Fan lashed out behind him, he would face a volley of claws.

Thinking it through, Yang Fan realized he had no good options left. Only a direct confrontation would do—otherwise, this chase would never end.

As the effects of his second pill faded, Yang Fan abruptly halted and spun to face the wolves, charging toward them with his alloy blade gleaming coldly.

He swept his blade at the wolves in the front row.

At that moment, the silver wolf howled.

As the blade met the first wolf, its eyes glinted with ferocity as it willingly threw itself onto the blade.

The second and third wolves lunged at Yang Fan, jaws wide.

As the blade met their bodies, one wolf tried to block with its skull. Predictably, it was killed instantly, its head cleaved nearly in two.

But the impact caused Yang Fan’s blade to deviate slightly and pause for an instant.

Though the blade’s sharpness was beyond question, wolves were known for their tough hides and bones—especially their skulls, which, even against an alloy blade, provided some resistance.

Yang Fan was surprised by this, noting every detail as if in slow motion.

In that instant, his energy surged into his arms, and three flashes of the blade split the air.

He unleashed the Thunderclap Blade Technique—one move, three strikes.

Two wolves, about to reach him, were sliced apart, their bodies falling in eight pieces.

He charged into the fray, his blade dancing up and down.

Blood and flesh flew everywhere.

Yang Fan pushed the Thunderclap Blade to its limit—where once he could strike four times in a breath, now he managed five.

A storm of blade-light enveloped him, making him nearly untouchable.

No wolf could withstand even a single strike, but the cost in energy was enormous.

The silver wolf remained outside the melee, its green eyes fixed unblinkingly on Yang Fan, indifferent to the deaths of its pack.

It cared only for killing this human.

Wolf corpses piled up around Yang Fan. Soon, fewer than ten of the original twenty wolves remained.

When Yang Fan decapitated another wolf, the pack descended into chaos.

The silver wolf howled again.

The remaining wolves hesitated, and in that moment’s pause, Yang Fan’s blade flashed once more, severing another wolf’s head.

The six wolves left showed terror in their eyes. The silver wolf howled yet again, but they refused to attack. As another head thudded to the ground, the six survivors scattered in flight.

As the pack fled in all directions, the silver wolf made its move. The moment the first howl caused the wolves’ hesitation, it had readied itself, knowing its followers were now afraid.

Its massive body lunged at Yang Fan.

Yang Fan had not anticipated the last wolves would defy the wolf king. He did not try to stop their flight; he was nearly out of strength, his energy reserves almost depleted.

After slaying a dozen wolves in just a few minutes, he was spent.

As the silver wolf leapt at him, Yang Fan’s fierce expression twisted into a cold smile.

The timing was good, but it would do the wolf no good.

It was true that he was exhausted and drained, but Yang Fan had more than just these resources.

What was his true trump card?

It was the supernatural ability he had once disregarded.

As the silver wolf crashed into him, Yang Fan’s body erupted with crackling electricity.

Bolts of lightning arced from his body.

The instant they collided, the wolf bore Yang Fan to the ground, but as it pinned him, the silver wolf began to convulse violently.

At that moment, a spear whistled through the air, striking the silver wolf’s neck, the tip bursting through and coming to rest a mere centimeter from Yang Fan’s throat.

Yang Fan stared at the wolf’s corpse and the spearhead hovering near his own neck, cold sweat pouring down his face.

Five people emerged from the forest: four men and one woman.

Four of them bore weapons; only one was empty-handed.

When Yang Fan saw them approach, he directed a tirade at Jiang Chao, the one without a weapon.

“Are you trying to kill me, you bastard?”

He shoved the silver wolf’s body aside and stood, still cursing.

Jiang Chao looked aggrieved. He had seen Yang Fan pinned by the wolf and, in a moment’s panic, had thrown his spear—managing to hit the wolf. He had, after all, just saved Yang Fan’s life, yet here he was being berated.

This man was impossible to please—truly insufferable. To save his life and be abused for it was beyond reason.

...

Through the woods, a group of six made their way back toward the water’s edge.

Jiang Chao’s eyes were ringed with bruises, and he carried the silver wolf’s corpse on his back. His expression was as dark as a thundercloud.

The others glanced at him with sympathy. They’d come to the rescue, only to be beaten up by the very person they’d saved. That black eye said it all.

Mu Qingshan grew increasingly amused and finally burst into loud laughter: “Hahaha...”

Hearing this, Jiang Chao’s expression darkened further. He snapped at Mu Qingshan, “What the hell are you laughing at? Laugh at your own sister!”

“Hahaha, exactly, I’m laughing at my sister!” Mu Qingshan replied, still laughing.

Xie Sihua, Zhou Yiyi, and the rest could no longer hold back, and laughter erupted among them.

Jiang Chao’s face grew darker still, and he turned away, ignoring them.

Yang Fan walked at the head of the group, a smile playing on his lips. The laughter helped dispel much of the tension left from the battle.

For all but Zhou Yiyi, this was their first mission outside the academy. Aside from the island trial, this was likely their first true combat experience. Though their foes were beasts, the tension had been very real.

Watching his companions ahead, Yang Fan felt a strange mix of emotions. “Maybe these guys aren’t as unreliable as I thought. At least they came looking for me, even if they were late and left me to face the fight alone. Still, in the end, they came.”