SWORD OF THE DEMON WOLF

Song Im’s Revenge

From a distance that was still close enough to see clearly, Sekar and Martha could only gape in astonishment at the young man being besieged by the Four Wicked Masks. They were both bewildered—how could this young man hold his ground against four opponents who were clearly much more senior in age and experience?

Not only was he holding his ground, but he was also pressing them with powerful attacks. Sekar thought that compared to herself and Martha, this young man’s skills were far superior.

“Stop...!” The long-bearded figure shouted loudly, bringing the fight to a halt. He had finally recognized the technique the young man was using, especially after seeing the wolf-head carving on the hilt of his sword.

The other three masked men immediately leapt back after hearing their comrade’s command.

“Damn it! Why did you stop the fight? I haven’t even killed all four of you yet!” Xiao Chen barked, pretending to be annoyed.

The white-bearded man held back his emotions after being snapped at by Xiao Chen. He felt the need to confirm the suspicion growing inside him.

“Young man, I recognize the sword technique you’re using, and that blade of yours as well. Tell me—what is your connection to Zhang Wei?”

Although surprised that his opponents knew about his master, Xiao Chen remained calm.

“Zhang Wei? Who’s that? I don’t know him.”

Had his face not been covered by a mask, the frown on the white-bearded man’s forehead would have been clearly visible. He was confused by the young man’s response. His mind drifted far back to his youth.

Around sixty years ago, when he was not yet twenty, he had been training at a martial sect. One day, a middle-aged man came to challenge his master. For reasons he did not understand, the man insisted on a duel.

Unwilling to lose face before his disciples, the sect master accepted the challenge, but with the condition that should he lose, his students would be spared.

He had heard his master address the challenger by name: Zhang Wei.

The duel was held in the training courtyard, witnessed by all the disciples. In the end, his master was slain, his head severed by a sword with a wolf-head hilt—the very same sword now in the hands of the young man before him.

“Don’t lie to me, boy. I know very well that the sword and technique you wield belong to Zhang Wei. I’ve been searching for him for a very long time.”

“I already told you, I don’t know the man you’re talking about. But if I may ask, why are you looking for him?”

“To avenge the death of my master, whom he murdered!” the white-bearded man spat, his voice heavy with fury.

Xiao Chen couldn’t help but laugh. To him, the man’s words were ridiculous. How could he talk about revenge when he and his three comrades had yet to defeat even Zhang Wei’s disciple?

The long-bearded man felt insulted by Xiao Chen’s laughter. “Why are you laughing? What’s so funny?”

“Fine, I’ll tell you. The man you seek is indeed my master. But the real question is—how do you expect to take revenge on him when the four of you together still can’t defeat me?”

“Bastard! So my suspicion was correct! You’ll pay dearly for daring to lie to me. Don’t call me Song Im if I fail to kill you!” the long-bearded elder roared as he ripped off his mask, revealing a deeply wrinkled, aged face.

Xiao Chen was unsurprised. He had already guessed that anyone holding a grudge against his master would be an old man, for Zhang Wei had told him he had retired from the martial world nearly fifty years ago.

“If I cannot kill your master, then I’ll take revenge by killing his disciple instead! Attack him and finish him!” Song Im commanded.

The fight resumed with even greater ferocity. The Four Wicked Masks’ formation no longer placed Xiao Chen under pressure—on the contrary, he now pressed them hard.

As time passed, Xiao Chen managed to wound three of his opponents, though Song Im himself remained unscathed. On the other hand, the four had failed to so much as scratch Xiao Chen.

Song Im’s three comrades began to waver. They doubted they could win if the fight continued. Xiao Chen’s speed and skill were simply beyond them. Worse still, they realized Song Im had dragged them into his personal vendetta against Zhang Wei.

Distracted and unfocused, their movements grew sloppy. Xiao Chen’s blade inflicted wound after wound, while their hesitation further eroded their coordination.

Song Im noticed the change in his comrades. They had lost their focus, but he could do nothing to help, as Xiao Chen now targeted him directly.

“Prove it if you want to kill me—Demonic Wolf Rampage!” Xiao Chen shouted, leaping high into the air. He swung his sword downward, aiming straight for Song Im’s neck.

The elder raised his blade just in time, blocking the deadly strike. The clash rang out, steel against steel.

But Xiao Chen’s attack was merely a feint. As his sword clashed with Song Im’s, his leg lashed out in a powerful kick—blocked once more. Yet that kick gave Xiao Chen the momentum to propel himself sideways, launching at another foe who had let his guard down.

“Look out, Song Rui!” Song Im shouted, warning his comrade.

Song Rui realized the danger, but he lacked the speed to evade. Desperate, he raised his sword to defend.

Xiao Chen’s plan did not end there. Barely half a meter before their blades would meet, he suddenly shifted, plunging his sword into the ground to vault himself sideways, bypassing Song Rui’s defense.

Song Rui froze in shock as Xiao Chen appeared at his flank, sword flashing in a ruthless arc toward his neck.

“Aaaargh!”

Song Rui’s scream was cut short. His throat was slit nearly in half, his windpipe severed.

Within seconds, his body staggered, then collapsed lifelessly to the ground, eyes wide open in death.