SWORD OF THE DEMON WOLF

Qian Hao’s Suspicion

Mo Lin was shocked by Qian Hao’s words. A sense of disbelief gripped him, for he couldn’t feel any extraordinary power radiating from the sword held by the young man who had already severed his right arm.

“Are you certain that sword is the one we’ve been searching for?” Mo Lin asked.

Qian Hao nodded firmly.

“But why can’t I sense any great power from it?” Mo Lin pressed again.

“Because that boy hasn’t yet mastered the full strength of the sword. Now go, quickly find a safe place!” Qian Hao ordered as he stood and helped his companion to his feet.

Mo Lin hurriedly moved far away. Not only to avoid further injury should a stray strike come his way, but also to secure the chance to flee if Qian Hao were to lose.

“Hey, Qian Hao, are you two done talking? If so, let’s fight,” Xiao Chen said while struggling to hold back the smile tugging at his lips.

Qian Hao snorted. He knew the young man was suppressing his laughter. To him, that was an insult to his short and stocky build.

“Once again you mock my body, you brat! I may be short, but that doesn’t mean I can’t beat you to a pulp!” Qian Hao growled furiously. To him, there was no forgiveness for anyone daring to insult his stature.

“Who’s mocking you? If I said you were tall, that would be a lie, and then you’d truly have a reason to be angry,” Xiao Chen replied calmly. He sheathed the Wolf Demon Sword once more since Qian Hao hadn’t yet drawn his weapon.

For him, it was dishonorable to use a sword when his opponent still fought barehanded.

“Enough talking, brat! You’ll pay for cutting off my friend’s hand!”

Unable to contain his fury any longer, Qian Hao launched himself at Xiao Chen with a flurry of techniques. Yet Xiao Chen deliberately dodged and dodged, provoking Qian Hao further into blind rage.

Nearly ten minutes passed, with Qian Hao unleashing close to thirty strikes. But not a single one had landed on Xiao Chen.

Qian Hao leapt back, retreating several steps. Frustration gnawed at him. At first, he thought he could defeat the youth after analyzing his movements, but reality proved far different.

The short, stocky man shifted his stance. He was preparing to unleash his ultimate hand-to-hand skill—the Body-Crippling Fist. He gathered two-thirds of his inner energy into his body before springing forward in a single breath.

Noticing his opponent’s change in technique, Xiao Chen too altered his style. He knew Qian Hao had studied his movements, so switching techniques would at least throw him off balance.

“Night Wolf Claw!”

For men like Mo Lin and Qian Hao, who were relatively new to the martial world, this technique was completely unfamiliar. But for elders past the age of seventy, it was possible they had once heard of this art that had disappeared for decades.

The clash of their energies erupted with a small explosion. But it didn’t stop there—each meeting of their power continued to spark bursts of sound and shockwaves.

Their high-speed battle, with frequent detonations, quickly attracted the attention of nearby martial artists. Driven by curiosity, they began to search for the source of the explosions.

Amidst the rising dust and smoke, Xiao Chen stood firm, glaring at Qian Hao, who was about ten steps away.

Xiao Chen realized the fight was dragging too long, nearing the limit of how much time he could endure before his blood began to burn in his chest. He knew he had to end it quickly.

The heavy dust was swept away by strong winds. Qian Hao appeared mostly unharmed, though in truth he was suppressing the sharp pain coursing through his body. He quickly circulated his inner energy to numb the pain in his joints.

“Mountain lizard! I didn’t expect you’d be strong enough to withstand my signature technique,” Qian Hao said, trying to buy time for the pain to subside.

“If you think flattery will make me arrogant, you’re wrong. Honestly, this is my first real fight. Yet you, who’ve roamed the martial world far longer, still can’t defeat me. That means your skills are nothing special,” Xiao Chen mocked.

As he spoke, Xiao Chen wished for his inner energy to surge higher so he could end the battle. And just as before, his qi responded. The aura radiating from his body grew stronger and stronger.

“Leave now, before you end up like your friend—missing an arm!”

“Bastard! Just a little praise and you’ve already become so arrogant. It’s time you die!” Qian Hao roared as he finally drew his sword.

Xiao Chen shook his head slowly. He thought to himself that this opponent needed to be finished off quickly before his own time ran out.

“I’ve already warned you. Don’t blame me for what happens next!” Xiao Chen said coldly as he unsheathed the Wolf Demon Sword.

Qian Hao snarled in rage, refusing to be shaken by Xiao Chen’s threat.

Unexpectedly, Xiao Chen—unwilling to waste more time—took the initiative. His opening slash aimed directly for Qian Hao’s neck.

Qian Hao was startled. He hadn’t expected his opponent to attack first, since up until now, it was always him who struck first.

He quickly evaded and countered with a strong, swift strike. Xiao Chen, caught off guard by the sudden counter, blocked with his sword.

CLAAANG!

Both men staggered back several steps, their arms trembling slightly from the clash of energies.

Qian Hao’s eyes widened in shock. A long crack had appeared along his beloved sword. Though he knew the weapon in Xiao Chen’s hand was the sacred sword sought by many martial artists, he had thought it impossible for his own blade to suffer such damage. He had even told Mo Lin earlier that Xiao Chen hadn’t fully mastered its power.

Unwilling to accept it, Qian Hao channeled a greater surge of inner energy into his blade. Miraculously, the crack began to close until the weapon was whole again.

He then fixed his gaze on Xiao Chen, trying to gauge his true strength. But to his shock, he couldn’t sense any inner energy at all. The thought struck him—if Xiao Chen could suppress his qi to such an extent, it meant his internal cultivation was far higher.