Chapter 10: The Wolf King's Cub
Is there truly no hope left? Was this group really destined to become nothing but nameless, withered bones scattered across the desert sands?
The desolate sky grew steadily more somber, and gusts of bitter wind swept through, yet no one replied.
Thud!
Thud... Thud!
A sound, as if from some ancient era, beat softly in the heart of every beastman. The rhythm was deep, yet not without authority. A soul, long dormant, was awakened.
The beastmen ceased their movements, fixing their silent gaze on the jeep. It was as though they sensed something stirring.
Suddenly, the winds shifted, and the sky seemed to churn with change.
A piercing wolf’s howl split the heavens! The cry was laced with struggle and sorrow, as though it resisted awakening, yet was forcefully roused from slumber.
In the back of the jeep, young Rong Hao clenched his fists so tightly his whole body trembled. He knew the madness was about to seize him again. He was terrified—afraid he would hurt his brother once more... Yet the call of the soul had already dyed his eyes crimson, like the vengeful spirits of the underworld come to claim their due.
He exhaled a hot breath, revealing two sharp fangs. His skin stretched and his body began to grow.
A painful wail escaped him. He was losing control, truly losing control!
Brother, help me!
After more than ten minutes, silence returned to the jeep.
Bang!
A slight figure crashed through the jeep’s roof, rolling once before coming to rest on his knees upon the earth.
A mournful howl tore from Rong Hao’s throat as he looked skyward. The sound was desolate beyond compare.
All around, beastmen shivered uncontrollably; a few even collapsed to the ground, whimpering as if in mourning.
His clothes had been torn apart, and Rong Hao’s figure was now a whole size larger than before. Pure silver fur covered him from head to toe, leaving only his face exposed.
Unlike the other beastmen, who were bulky and lumbering, Rong Hao remained lean and graceful. Though his size had increased, he was still no taller than an ordinary human adult.
Aside from the dazzling silver fur and a pair of sharp fangs, he looked almost entirely like a normal grown man.
His smooth face had shed its boyishness, revealing striking, handsome features—though beneath that beauty lurked a cold, bloodthirsty menace.
Rong Hao turned, his gaze sweeping the surrounding beastmen with a ruthless glint—more precisely, those beastmen who were still standing.
They trembled, but stubbornly held their ground.
A closer look revealed that those who remained standing were stronger than the ones who had collapsed. The prostrate beastmen resembled wolves, while those who stood, shaking, looked more like bears, tigers, lions... and a few even resembled leopards.
With an expressionless face, Rong Hao took a step forward. In an instant, his figure vanished. When he reappeared, a mighty bear-man crashed to the earth, blood gushing hotly from its neck. Its eyes stared wide in terror, powerless to halt death’s approach.
The beastmen behind it wailed in grief and tried to help, but when they saw the “frail” figure before them, they hesitated.
Low, disgruntled growls rumbled from their throats, voicing their displeasure at Rong Hao’s actions.
He snorted coldly and vanished once more. A series of muffled thuds sounded, blood spraying as five or six beastmen fell simultaneously.
His savagery seemed to ignite the fury of the crowd. Except for the wolf-tribe beastmen lying prone, all the others advanced upon him with low, threatening growls.
Indeed, Rong Hao was a king—but only the Wolf King of the wolf tribe.
Other beastmen might respect him, but they would never submit. Battle coursed through their veins; no foe’s strength could make them cower.
Moreover, Rong Hao was just a Wolf King’s cub—no guarantee he would ever truly become the Wolf King.
Silver fur streaming in the wind, Rong Hao darted into their midst like a bolt of lightning.
His fingertips, sharp as blades, slit one throat after another...
Each movement flowed with unearthly grace—a dance of death, chilling yet beautiful.
His face was as cold as water, every motion precise and necessary. This was the artistry of killing.
A single-strike kill demanded complete focus and energy, ensuring each blow was fatal. The impact was awe-inspiring, but such a style drained stamina swiftly.
Rong Hao sought to establish his authority, to awe the other beastmen into submission. Yet, he failed to realize his excessive savagery had already provoked their wrath.
But the majesty of the Wolf King was not something these ordinary beastmen could defy.
If it was battle they wanted—then battle they would have!
Only those who survived the slaughter of the battlefield could be called true kings.
Regrettably, after just over ten minutes, Rong Hao began to feel his strength flag; his killing speed slowed drastically.
The twenty-first kill!
The twenty-fifth!
The twenty-ninth!
His chest heaved like a bellows, his breath ragged.
After the twenty-ninth foe fell, he knew he was at his limit.
Yet the beastmen’s assault did not relent.
A beastman seized the opportunity, landing a heavy punch on his head.
A wave of dizziness crashed through his mind...
Rong Hao spun, his hand shooting out in a deadly arc. With a sickening crunch, half his arm sank deep into the beastman’s neck.
The thirtieth kill.
The wolf-tribe beastmen howled in unison, as if cheering him on.
But in that instant, three more beastmen rushed him, raining blows upon his body.
Blood finally spilled from Rong Hao.
A punch driven into his abdomen left him wounded within; hot blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
He flicked his tongue out, licking the blood away.
Suddenly, a massive fist loomed before his face. Before he could react, it struck him hard.
His whole face went numb; the pain was blinding, but still he did not stop fighting.
To be a werewolf is to live for battle, to fight as long as there is life—to be worthy of the name Wolf.
Blood, his own and that of others, smeared his features, making him terrifying to behold.
His vision blurred, but his hands did not cease their deadly work.
This was true combat—not a desperate struggle for life.
Claws slashed, and one after another, beastmen fell.
Thirty-one.
Thirty-two.
Thirty-three.
Rong Hao’s legs gave way; his body began to tremble uncontrollably, hardly able to stand.
Beastmen formed a ring around him. Within the circle lay more than thirty corpses; the rest pressed in, undaunted.
One beastman seized the chance to grapple Rong Hao, pinning him to the ground.
The others piled on, crushing him beneath their weight.
The struggle dragged on for over ten minutes, until at last, Rong Hao at the bottom passed out completely, and only then did the assault cease.
The foreign beastmen backed away, and the wolf-tribe beastmen stepped forward.
The childlike form of Rong Hao lay sprawled on the ground. A werewolf picked him up and set him gently upon a flat patch of earth.
There was no absolute enmity among beastmen; more often than not, they stood united.
All because they shared a common enemy: humanity.
However, for a Wolf King’s cub to become Wolf King, to command the absolute obedience of the others, he had to prove his strength.
Power was the only truth.
Clearly, Rong Hao possessed strength, but he had not yet reached the necessary threshold.
When kin contested, a king could be wounded but never slain. Even though Rong Hao was but a Wolf King’s cub, his life could not be risked.
For the rise of the beastmen still required a leader.
Their glory was only just beginning; every king's cub was a spark of hope.
Night was falling. The sun cast its final rays and slipped below the horizon.
Night descended...
Desert nights were bitterly cold. Fortunately, their overturned vehicle lay only at the desert’s edge; deeper within, the sudden drop in temperature would have claimed their lives.
A groan sounded—Han Xue awoke, facing a darkness so complete she could not see her own hand before her face.
Ghostly winds howled, sand whispered.
Suddenly, the young girl burst into tears. “Oh, heavens! Am I dead? I don’t want to die! I haven’t even found a boyfriend yet...”