Chapter Twenty-Three: The Newfoundland Wolf

Xiaoshan’s legs, feet, and even the hand gripping his sword had all suffered several bites. Though he managed to react just in time, the wounds left behind by fangs and claws still marked his body. The bitten flesh was inflamed, sending jolts of pain through his nerves—a clear warning that if he didn’t “draw his sword!” immediately, the injury would go beyond flesh and bone, threatening his very life.

Gritting his teeth, Xiaoshan forcefully unsheathed his sword, the scabbard scraping free of the blade. A murderous aura surged straight to his head, causing his swift movements to come to an abrupt halt.

The scabbard was flung aside by his strength; his left hand caught it deftly, giving him the air of a martial artist. Yet his expression was ghastly pale, the murderous intent clouding his mind, leaving him in a state of confusion.

“Focus! You’re surrounded by a pack of wolves!” Haoyun shouted loudly.

Strangely, at the very moment Xiaoshan drew his sword, the surrounding wolves paused, clearly startled by the sudden transformation before them.

But the howls of wolves echoed around them, and the beasts quickly lunged forward again. Countless claws and fangs aimed at Xiaoshan, desperate to tear him apart.

“Wolves!” Xiaoshan’s eyes lit up as he began to wield his sword, striking at the beasts that threatened him.

His movements held a measured rhythm, resembling a dance more than a battle—graceful and without true killing force.

The surrounding wolves halted, watching Xiaoshan’s swordplay. None dared attack. As he moved, the pack shifted with him, wary and evasive.

His sword wove a seamless barrier, leaving the wolves without an opening to strike. Any reckless attack risked a merciless slash.

He mimicked the sword technique etched in his mind—the one from the middle-aged swordsman, imitating his every move in battle.

That man, clad in armor and wielding a longsword, had cut a path through enemy ranks, slaying foes with ease, not a single leaf staining him.

But now, Xiaoshan only danced with his blade—creating an impenetrable defense, yet unable to kill a single wolf.

“Stop dancing! Move, quickly!” Ruoxi called out, seeing Xiaoshan spinning his sword in place without slaying a single wolf.

Watching Haotian and the others gradually pull away, she grew anxious and tugged Xiaoshan along in pursuit.

Behind Haotian and his group, wolves still gave chase, but more hesitantly, cowed yet unwilling to give up.

Ruoxi’s shout broke Xiaoshan’s concentration; he swept the sword, sending a burst of sword energy that startled the nearby wolves, making them retreat a step.

“Why can’t I kill them?” Xiaoshan panted, confused, as Ruoxi pulled him along. He had followed the middle-aged man’s swordplay, which should have been unstoppable—so why hadn’t he killed a single wolf?

“You weren’t attacking! Protecting yourself is good enough. Did you really think you could kill them all?” Ruoxi replied, exasperated.

With so many wolves, anyone else would have run for their life, yet he wanted to slaughter them all.

“Oh,” Xiaoshan replied, but doubt still clouded his mind.

They ran onward, the wolves trailing behind—not so urgently now, as if waiting for them to tire before making their move.

Though Haotian and Ruoxi had slain a few, the pack seemed undiminished and refused to give up the pursuit.

The glowing sphere continued to emit its light, following Haotian and the others. In the distance, the light around Xiaoshan and his group remained steady; Ruoxi wondered if it was some special artifact.

After some time running, the wolves still showed no sign of decreasing, but ahead, a commotion arose.

Something struck the trees, causing them to shake, and now and then, wolfish cries—filled with pain—reached Xiaoshan’s ears.

Ahead, Haotian and his companions had stopped, staring in astonishment at something in front of them, pointing with surprise.

“It must be a powerful beast,” Ruoxi said.

“Another animal besides wolves?” Xiaoshan asked.

“Surrounded by wolves, it can only be an even stronger wolf,” Ruoxi replied, apprehension in her voice.

She was right. Ahead of them stood a truly enormous wolf.

Its fur was ash-grey and white, and it was easily three or four times larger than an ordinary wolf. Yet its feet were slender, almost the same size as a common wolf’s, while its legs above the ankles were powerfully built. Its white tail swayed back and forth—was it displaying affection?

Its huge, white head and glowing red eyes, coupled with its lithe, sturdy body, struck fear in all who beheld it.

Not far off, Haopo stood ready, sword in hand, facing the massive wolf.

His eyes were fixed, his focus unwavering. Though his hand trembled slightly, he held his ground.

“That’s a Newfoundland Wolf! Its body is two meters long, weighs about seventy kilos, with a massive head and a slender, powerful form. Its greatest advantage is speed!” Haoyun’s voice was low and worried.

“Shouldn’t we help him?” Xiaoshan asked.

“No! This is his decision—he came out here to be tested,” Haotian replied.

“If he really can’t hold on, then we’ll act.”

“We’ll just keep watch from here,” Ruoxi said.

“No, look around you!” Haoyun warned.

Ruoxi and the others glanced about—in every direction, wolves were gathering, nearly as large as the Newfoundland Wolf, though with less imposing fangs and slightly smaller frames.

The wolves that had been giving chase now halted, panting heavily.