SWORD OF THE DEMON WOLF

The Masked Figure

"Aaakh!"

Xiao Chen screamed in pain. But he kept running without looking back even once. The book inside the cloth bundle strapped to his back became his only motivation to keep running and running.

“Catch him, quick! Don’t let him escape!” shouted one of the bandits.

Even though blood continued to flow from the wound on his right shoulder, the brown-skinned young man refused to give up. As long as there was breath and strength left in his body, he would keep fighting to fulfill the task his mother had entrusted him—and to avenge the death of his parents.

The pursuit through the darkness didn’t end simply with Xiao Chen’s injuries. Unwittingly, they had arrived at the foot of a small hill known for being haunted. A hill that welcomed no one who dared to enter its domain.

Xiao Chen’s vision began to blur from the excessive blood loss. His eyes were spinning, and everything he saw seemed to whirl around him. The young man finally fell to his knees and slumped against a large tree trunk. The sword once embedded in his back had fallen during the run—whether from the jostling or from brushing against the trees, he didn’t know.

The blood from his wound continued to seep out, staining the bark of the tree he was leaning against.

The group of bandits stood just a few paces in front of Xiao Chen. Their eyes were sharp, as though they intended to skin him alive.

“So you’ve finally given up, boy! We’ll show you what it means to be skinned alive!” one of the bandits threatened, panting heavily.

Xiao Chen didn’t respond. His vision was completely blurred. Even his hearing had dulled. The bandit’s words sounded like nothing more than a gust of wind rushing past his ears.

“Catch him! Before he dies—we must skin him first! Let him feel the pain of crossing us—”

The man’s words were cut off suddenly. From inside the tree trunk where Xiao Chen was resting, a figure emerged—its identity unclear, as its face was hidden behind a mask.

“Wh-who is that?” one of the bandits asked, trembling.

And it wasn’t just him. All the bandits who had been chasing Xiao Chen were now filled with dread. There were many reasons to fear what they saw—chief among them, the sudden appearance of a masked figure emerging from a tree.

One of the bandits suddenly realized where they were. “I think we’ve entered the region of the Thousand Ghost hill, everyone. We need to leave now and let the spirits devour the boy.”

The other bandits were startled by his words. It was as if they hadn’t realized there was a towering hill standing right before them.

Like reaching an unspoken agreement, they began retreating—step by cautious step—until, at fifteen meters from Xiao Chen, they broke into a full sprint.

“Where do you think you’re going?” came a deep voice from behind the mask—a voice that clearly belonged to an old man.

The bandits’ rapid footsteps came to an abrupt stop when the masked figure suddenly appeared right in front of them.

“Spare us, Elder! We promise we’ll never return to this hill,” one of them begged.

The masked man let out a thunderous laugh before replying, “Only one of you will be allowed to leave this place! Your hearts are tainted, your souls rotten, and your minds filled with worldly greed. People like you don’t even deserve to be called human.”

The dozen or so bandits trembled, wondering—which one of them would be spared?

“Only that young man will leave this place alive,” the masked figure continued, as if answering the question echoing in their minds.

With that, he raised his right hand. A beam of bright green light shot from his palm toward the group of bandits—instantly destroying them all.

“You don’t need to struggle for food anymore. Come, feast on the meat I’ve prepared for you!” the masked man said as he departed, leaving the remains of the bandits scattered on the ground.

Dozens of glowing eyes emerged in the darkness and crept toward the place where the bandits had been obliterated. Judging from their form, they appeared to be a pack of forest wolves—with long snouts and sharp fangs protruding from their mouths.

Without needing any orders, the wolves devoured the fresh meat eagerly, as if celebrating a feast. Occasionally, they howled into the night, expressing their joy.

The masked man knelt down and looked at Xiao Chen for a long time. “Who are you, really?” he muttered softly.

But Xiao Chen, unconscious and bleeding out, did not respond. The amount of blood he had lost had stolen away his awareness.

The masked figure then lifted Xiao Chen’s body and disappeared swiftly into the dense forest.

---

Several Days Later

Xiao Chen’s consciousness slowly returned. With great effort, the young man tried to sit up. He looked around, but saw only darkness.

“Why is everything so dark? Am I… dead? If that’s true, then I must be in a grave now…”

He couldn’t hide his sorrow. He believed he had died, and that meant he had failed his mother’s final mission—to deliver the Book of the Sky Sovereign to the old hermit on Mount Huashan.

“Forgive me, Mother… I couldn’t carry out the duty you entrusted to me. I’ve failed to avenge your and Father’s deaths. Now I’m dead, and soon I’ll join you both…”

“Dead, my foot! You’re still alive, you weak little boy! Can’t you appreciate all the effort I spent healing you?”

Xiao Chen recoiled in shock at the disembodied voice. “Who are you? Show yourself! I’m not afraid of ghosts!”

“Call me a ghost one more time and I’ll feed you to my pet wolves!”

Suddenly, the masked figure stepped out from the darkness. The pitch-black room lit up as the sound of a massive stone being moved echoed through the chamber—sunlight then streamed in, illuminating the space.

Xiao Chen gasped in awe. The place he had thought to be a grave was actually a cave. Even more astonishing, the cave’s entrance was sealed by a massive rock that could slide aside so easily.