SWORD OF THE DEMON WOLF

The First Kill

Qian Hao could only shake his head in disbelief. He still refused to believe that someone so young could possess inner strength greater than his own.

Judging by age, the gap between them was nearly double. Qian Hao had spent more than twenty years in the martial world, so it was difficult for him to accept that his inner power was still weaker than that of this young man.

“Are you just going to stand there daydreaming, or are we going to continue this fight? If you want to daydream, don’t do it here—this place is full of spirits that might possess your body,” Xiao Chen taunted.

“Bastard! Ghosts, demons, or even devils wouldn’t dare possess me. Prepare to die, and that sword of yours will be mine!” Qian Hao snarled, his eyes gleaming with greed as he looked at the blade in Xiao Chen’s hand.

Xiao Chen could already guess what was running through Qian Hao’s mind. Clearly, this short and stocky man believed the Demon Wolf Sword was the legendary weapon that countless martial artists were searching for.

“If you want my sword, then kneel before me three times!” Xiao Chen mocked. He knew full well Qian Hao would never kneel; martial artists had their pride, after all.

“Filthy cur! Mountain lizard! Half-blind ox! I’ll rip that foul mouth of yours apart!”

Xiao Chen chuckled at the barrage of insults.

Qian Hao growled, enraged. To him, this was the ultimate humiliation. The stocky swordsman raised his blade horizontally above his head and pointed its tip straight at Xiao Chen.

With a single sharp breath, his body shot forward. The blade in his hands slashed down with deadly force toward Xiao Chen’s head.

Sensing the danger, the handsome young man swiftly lifted his sword, bracing himself for the strike.

Xiao Chen staggered back several steps from the impact, but in the very next instant, he darted forward with a counterattack, unleashing one of his techniques.

“Demon Wolf Hunt!” he shouted.

Qian Hao’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t expected the young man to counter so quickly after being forced backward.

“Don’t think you can defeat me, bastard!!”

One of the Twin Mist Sword Brothers charged again, his white-bladed sword slicing through the air as he rushed in with equal speed.

The clash between them grew fiercer by the moment. The duel was no longer just a contest of skill—it was a battle of inner energy.

Dozens of onlookers could only stand frozen, stunned by what they were witnessing. None had ever imagined that such a young man could display such extraordinary ability.

Xiao Chen vaulted into the air, twisting his body mid-spin to avoid a slash aimed at his stomach. But before he could land, another thrust came flying at his neck.

He quickly dropped his body low to evade, then retaliated with a swift strike. His blade shot forward, targeting the exposed midsection of his opponent.

Qian Hao was caught off guard. He hurriedly dragged his blade down to parry.

But Xiao Chen suddenly shifted—pulling back his thrust and sliding to the side with lightning speed, his sword flashing toward Qian Hao’s neck.

“Arrrrghhh!”

Qian Hao screamed as his hand clutched his throat, torn wide open. Blood gushed out like a broken dam, flooding uncontrollably.

Moments later, the forty-year-old man collapsed to the ground, dead.

Xiao Chen froze, staring at the lifeless body at his feet. His eyes drifted to the Demon Wolf Sword in his hand, gleaming coldly, untouched by a single drop of blood.

He then turned his gaze toward the place where Mo Lin had been hiding, only to find the tall, lanky man had already fled after witnessing Qian Hao’s death.

The twenty-year-old’s heart pounded wildly. His first kill. For some reason, he felt shaken, his hands trembling slightly. Zhang Wei had once told him that killing was inevitable for a martial artist, but hearing it was one thing—living it was another.

Sliding his sword back into its sheath, Xiao Chen sprinted away as fast as he could. He needed to report his first kill to Zhang Wei.

Four men dressed in red, their faces hidden by wooden masks, emerged from behind a large tree. They had been secretly observing the duel.

“Wasn’t that man one of the Mist Sword Brothers? How could he lose to a mere youth?” one of them asked.

“You’re right. His name was Qian Hao. I also saw Mo Lin hiding in the bushes over there. After Qian Hao fell, Mo Lin ran off,” another replied.

“So both of them were defeated by that boy,” the bearded, white-haired masked man muttered. “Oh, and did you hear Qian Hao mention that he wanted the boy’s sword? I suspect that blade is the very weapon we’ve been searching for.”

“I heard it too. Then let’s chase him! Even if he resists, there’s no way he can overcome the Four Perverse Masks,” another declared.

The four masked men shot forward, pursuing Xiao Chen, who was already far ahead.

Once they vanished, an old woman clad in bright green stepped out from behind the trees, gripping a staff carved with a serpent’s head.

Not long after, three young women, all around Xiao Chen’s age and each strikingly beautiful, emerged to stand behind her.

“Master, shouldn’t we also pursue that boy? If the Four Perverse Masks obtain that weapon, all your efforts to claim it will be wasted,” asked one of the girls, her fine mustache and thick eyebrows oddly enhancing her delicate beauty.

“Patience, Sekar. I already have a plan. You and Martha, follow them. But stay hidden—just observe from afar!” the old woman commanded.

“Yes, Master,” Sekar and Martha replied in unison.

The two beautiful girls dashed after Xiao Chen and the masked men, while the old woman and her remaining disciple stayed behind, waiting.

Meanwhile, less than three hundred meters from the cave, Xiao Chen finally encountered the Four Perverse Masks blocking his path.