SWORD OF THE DEMON WOLF

The Arrival of the Warriors

The local villagers inside the eatery quickly chose to leave, fearing the consequences if a fight broke out.

The owner could only rub his chest and mutter patiently to himself. If a battle erupted in his establishment, severe damage would be inevitable.

Once the locals had fled, only martial artists remained. That much was clear from their attire.

Aside from members of the two rival sects, there was a young man in a bamboo hat sitting quietly in the corner, a middle-aged man seated across from a woman of similar age, and an old man leisurely sipping wine while humming to himself.

“If you think you can claim that sacred weapon, forget it! We of the Black Kala Peak Sect will not hesitate to kill anyone who refuses to leave this village!” threatened a tall, broad-shouldered man with curly hair.

“That’s right! We’ll slaughter anyone seeking that weapon!” another added.

“We are not children who tremble at empty threats! Our Sect Leader of the White Garuda School has ordered us to retrieve the weapon. Know this—we are prepared to die to fulfill that command. Your threats mean nothing to us!” one of the White Garuda members replied.

According to the latest information they had gathered from the villagers, no woman had given birth on the night of the strange phenomenon. That made it highly likely that the Blood Moon was a sign of the emergence of a high-grade sacred weapon—something destined to stir the entire martial world. Anyone who obtained it was believed to gain tremendous power.

The problem was, no one knew what kind of weapon it might be. There wasn’t the slightest clue.

The quarrel between the two sects grew louder. Finally, the only woman in the room lost patience with their shouting.

“Can’t you let us eat in peace?” she said, rising to her feet and glaring at the dozen men facing each other.

Her sharp tone made the members of both sects turn toward her, surprised that anyone dared to interrupt them.

“I think you’d be better off working together to find the weapon,” the man seated with her added. “The area you’ll be searching is vast—you’ll have a hard time finding it alone. Once it’s found, you can kill each other all you like.”

“Hahaha! I never thought Lu Lian and Liu Yang would leave the Poison Flower Valley just because of yesterday’s strange phenomenon. Do you two also want the weapon?” The voice came from the old man drinking alone.

Lu Lian and her partner, Liu Yang, turned toward the source of the voice.

“So, it’s Chen Hao, the Drunken Madman. If you’re here, doesn’t that mean you’re after the weapon too?” Liu Yang sneered.

“Hahahaha! I need no weapon other than this bamboo,” Chen Hao replied, raising his bamboo cup of wine.

“Then why come here if you’re not after it?” Lu Lian pressed.

“Hahaha! I just happened to pass through this village to visit a friend. Is that a crime?” Chen Hao shot back, glancing toward the young man in the bamboo hat, who continued eating calmly, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

Liu Yang and Lu Lian followed his gaze, smirking in disdain at the mysterious young man. They looked down on him—for in the martial world, youth often meant inexperience and weak skill.

The members of both sects, overhearing the exchange and recognizing the names being spoken, were shocked. Only now did they realize that the other patrons in the room were renowned martial experts.

It was strange they hadn’t recognized them sooner, but understandable—they were merely ordinary members of their sects and had little exposure to the wider martial world.

“Nonsense!” Lu Lian snapped at Chen Hao. “You’re just making excuses. There’s no way you’d come here if you didn’t want that weapon!”

“Don’t shout at me unless you want me to tear that mouth of yours apart!” Chen Hao growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

“We’ve never had a problem, but if you—or both of you—want trouble, let’s take this outside!” he challenged.

Lu Lian couldn’t refuse such a public challenge. Their reputation as a Poison Flower Valley couple would be tarnished if they backed down.

“Don’t bother with him, Lian! We’ll deal with him another time. Right now, we need to focus on finding the weapon,” Liu Yang said firmly.

“But he—”

“No buts. We’re leaving now. The other warriors have already gone ahead. It’s pointless to waste time on a drunken madman,” Liu Yang cut her off.

Chen Hao didn’t care as the Poison Flower Valley pair left. He simply poured more wine from his clay jug into his bamboo cup.

Meanwhile, deep inside a cave, Xiao Chen opened his eyes for the first time since Zhang Wei had rescued him from the waterfall. Looking around, he quickly recognized the cave that had been his home for the past two years.

The last thing he remembered was a surge of energy erupting from within his body. After that, nothing.

Rising to his feet, Xiao Chen felt a remarkable change. His body was fuller, stronger, yet lighter—completely different from before his waterfall meditation.

Not long after, Zhang Wei entered the cave, slightly out of breath. “Thank goodness you’re awake,” he said, his expression tinged with concern.

“What’s wrong, Grandpa? What happened?” Xiao Chen asked.

Zhang Wei explained that he had visited the nearest village, where he learned that dozens of martial artists were searching for the sacred weapon believed to have appeared during the Blood Moon phenomenon.

“It’s very likely they’ll come here as well. Are you ready if it comes to a fight?”

Xiao Chen swallowed hard. But he knew—if the sanctity of his home was threatened, he had no choice but to defend it.