Silver Fang Sutra: The Doctor of WarChapter 121: The Last Hunt1. The Silence Before the StormThe battlefield was broken earth and burning ash. Wolves lay scattered—some dead, some dying, some still clinging to life with blood-soaked jaws. The sky above was no longer black but silver and red, a canvas torn open by clashing powers that did not belong in the hands of mortals.Azael stood hunched, claws dripping, his chest heaving with ragged breath. His silver flames no longer crackled wildly. They burned steady, heavy, like molten steel shaped into form. His eyes glowed, not with the chaos of the Sutra, but with something far older—something primal.Across from him, the Executioner straightened. His cloak hung in tatters, his hood scorched away to reveal the twisted remnants of a face barely human. One eye was gone, burned to a crater of black flame. His skin was cracked like molten stone, every vein pulsing with the abyss he carried wit

Silver Fang Sutra: The Doctor of WarChapter 123: The Fang of the Abyss1. Fragile DawnThe forest tried to breathe again.Smoke thinned. The cries of the wounded dulled into whispers. Wolves limped back into makeshift shelters, licking their wounds, tending to the broken with what herbs and claws they could muster.But no one truly rested.Every wolf knew—the Council never stopped.Azael sat beneath a shattered oak, his body covered in fresh bandages, silver fire stitched into his wounds like burning thread. His chest rose heavily, but his eyes remained awake, vigilant. Lyra sat beside him, sharpening her moonblade with deliberate strokes, her gaze never straying from him.“You should be lying down,” she murmured.Azael shook his head slowly. “The Council doesn’t let Alphas heal. They send the next blade before the blood dries.”Lyra paused, her jaw tightening. She wanted to argue, to demand he res

Silver Fang Sutra: The Doctor of WarChapter 125: The Breaking of Chains1. Abyss UnleashedThe Fang’s body twisted into something beyond beast, beyond shadow. Chains melted into wings of black fire, jaws stretching wide enough to bite the moon from the sky. The air itself bled darkness, choking every wolf’s lungs.The Council’s voices screamed through it:“You cannot win! This vessel is infinite! Each strike only feeds the void!”The Fang reared back, shadows writhing into serpents that rained upon the battlefield. Wolves scattered, some crushed beneath the tide, others fighting tooth and claw. The ground groaned, cracking under the weight of abyssal power.Yet in that storm, two flames still burned.Silver.White.Azael and Lyra.2. The Alpha’s ResolveAzael’s claws blazed brighter than any star. Every breath felt like fire tearing through his chest, but he refused to bow. He saw

Silver Fang Sutra: The Doctor of WarChapter 127: Echoes in the Ashes1. The Dawn AfterThe first light of dawn painted the battlefield in hues of gold and gray. The pyres had burned low through the night, their smoke rising into the sky like threads tying the fallen to the heavens. The wolves stood silent, heads bowed, their bodies ringed around the ashes.Every pack had its rituals. Every death was honored. But this time, the mourning was heavier, deeper. For it was not just wolves they had lost. It was the illusion of safety.Azael stood at the head of the circle, his body wrapped in blood-soaked bandages, his claws hidden beneath his folded arms. He looked like a man carved from scars and shadows, but his eyes held steady.“This ground,” he said, voice carrying low but sharp, “is blood-soaked. And it will not be the last. The Council wants us broken. They want us to howl in fear.”He let the silence stretch befo

Silver Fang Sutra: The Doctor of WarChapter 129: Strings of the Raven1. The Trap TightensThe forest had become a prison. Every howl of the wind, every crack of a branch, every flicker of shadow—it all carried the weight of threat.The wolves patrolled in pairs now, their eyes sharp, their claws ready. But fear lingered. No scent of the Raven touched the ground. No tracks marked his path. He was there and not there, a ghost that played with their nerves.Azael had not slept in three nights. His body was whole, but his mind strained. He had faced monsters of flesh and flame, but this enemy was different. This one did not fight to kill. He fought to break.And the next message came at dawn.On the trunk of the oldest oak, carved deep into the bark with threads that cut like blades:“An Alpha cannot protect what he loves.”At its roots lay a feather—black, sharp as a knife—piercing a piece of Lyra’s