Chapter 2: Kill the Wolf!

It’s Blind San!

Li Yan had already guessed.

Ordinary beasts don’t carry this smell.

Could it be true, as people say, that “Blind San” has cultivated Dao?

Li Yan grew wary, reversed his hand to unstring the bow, nocked an arrow loosely, and signaled Blackie to crouch low and follow him with silent steps.

Just this one motion revealed the gap.

Guanzhong has always been full of wandering knights, and after centuries of wars, martial practice never faded—like Li Family Village, once a military fortress, where many children trained in martial arts from childhood.

Even just Red Fist, each village had its own lineage and posture.

Blackie had trained since childhood; his only pastime during farming breaks was swinging the great spear and practicing fists, the spearshaft behind him polished smooth as porcelain.

Yet when he walked, he still landed heel first, then sole—even when tiptoeing, his weight pressing on the grass still made faint sounds.

But Li Yan was different.

He landed on the ball of his foot, bow steady, arrow level, moving like a spirit cat, his spine always balanced, not a single sound made.

Stability and lightness—two opposing states—now perfectly unified.

Behind him, Blackie watched, filled with envy.

Martial training demands hard work, but talent matters too; this light-footed step was a realm he could never reach in a lifetime.

Villagers praised Li Yan only because of his veteran grandfather and his father, once a blade-wielding swordsman, long dead.

After all, what could a fourteen-year-old boy possibly achieve?

But Blackie was different—he had secretly seen Li Yan train, stunned into awe, which was why he came to him first after the incident.

While lost in thought, Li Yan ahead suddenly stopped.

Blackie halted instantly, peered forward, and his eyes widened.

Behind Li Family Village still stood many earthen walls—the remnants of a former dynasty’s military fortress, now reduced to broken ruins.

The darkest hour before dawn offered poor light.

There, at the broken wall, a large dark shape writhed.

It was a shaggy, mangy giant wolf, stealing a pig.

It bit the pig’s ear with sharp fangs, its thick tail whipping back and forth like a horsewhip, making the fat pig follow along.

Pigs are clever creatures; when the butcher grabs them for slaughter during New Year, they know their end is near and scream in terror—but now, as if possessed, covered in blood, it didn’t even grunt.

This wolf had only one eye—it was “Blind San”!

“Blind San” had truly entered the village at dawn.

And why weren’t the village dogs barking?

The eerie scene sent chills through Blackie’s spine, but hatred soon overcame fear; his eyes turned red as he slowly unslung his long spear.

Li Yan was also surprised, yet grew even calmer.

He signaled Blackie not to move, then slowly raised his bow.

But he didn’t release the arrow immediately; instead, as he drew the string, he adjusted his breath, narrowed his eyes, and concentrated icy light into his pupils.

Having come to this world for years, his greatest passion was martial training.

This world’s martial arts resembled national martial arts—no qi or true energy—but many breathing techniques existed, and breath control was especially vital.

Only when breath is steady can one’s strength be fully concentrated.

Just as he had moved stealthily just now—mind calm, breath unbroken—his tendons and muscles obeyed his will like limbs, allowing him to move like a spirit cat, harmoniously unified.

Don’t underestimate this—this is the very essence of entering martial arts.

Ordinary people may lift stone weights and swing great spears daily, building immense strength and learning many techniques, yet when fighting, their breath still falters, their mind races, their thoughts go blank, and all they deliver are clumsy punches.

The art of archery lies here too.

No matter how strong the bow or how much you practice, you must hit to matter.

And for controlling bodily strength, breath is the switch!

“Blind San” might indeed be different, but his getting caught in a trap and losing one eye proved he was still flesh and blood.

They were downwind, so they smelled “Blind San” first, crept low and silent, and now, with the wolf busy stealing the pig, the distance had closed to a hundred meters.

Li Yan believed that if he hit, one arrow would kill him!

Creak…

The bowstring tightened rapidly, the arrowhead unnervingly steady.

But at that moment, “Blind San” suddenly bristled and lifted his head.

He’s been spotted!

Li Yan didn’t know where he’d erred—perhaps the wolf sensed the killing intent—but there was no time to think.

Whirr!

The arrow shot out, swift as light and shadow.

Li Yan aimed for the wolf’s neck.

Wolves are said to have copper heads, iron tails, and tofu waists—because between the hips and ribs, only a single spine connects, offering little bone protection, relatively soft, and packed with vital organs.

Few know that between the eyes and nose, the bones are most fragile; a strike there can knock it unconscious, and an arrow can kill.

But this spot is extremely hard to hit, and since “Blind San” was no ordinary beast, Li Yan targeted the neck instead.

Thwip!

The arrow pierced fur and hide.

“Blind San” ultimately dodged slightly—the arrow didn’t strike a vital spot but pierced his right forelimb, spraying blood.

Li Yan said nothing, nocked another arrow, and prepared to fire again.

Though he hadn’t killed it outright, the arrow piercing through would reduce its mobility; if he acted fast, the wolf still couldn’t escape.

But something surprised him.

“Blind San” didn’t flee—he leapt behind the wall and used his sharp fangs to gnaw, trying to bite through and pull out the arrow.

Damn, it’s grown cunning as a demon!

Li Yan threw down his bow and charged forward, body like a released arrow, hand gripping his saber’s hilt.

His saber was about three feet long, less than two inches wide, uniquely shaped—the guard, meant to protect the hand, was unusually narrow.

It was a fast saber from Guanshan Town near Lintong.

Guanshan sabers were the standard and symbol of Guanzhong swordsmen.

At a hundred meters, Li Yan accelerated with every step, dust rising underfoot; with a sharp click, his left thumb pushed the guard open, his right hand lightly pressed the hilt—but he never drew the blade.

Family-secret fast saber: Waist Strike.

It looked vaguely like the Japanese iaido of his past life, but was entirely different.

The fast saber’s “Waist Strike” was a stealth technique—sudden horizontal charge, blade swing like thunder.

When clashing with the enemy, no killing intent revealed; blade drawn and sheathed, man walks away, corpse left behind.

"Blind San" was flesh and blood, yet displayed extraordinary spiritual insight and wisdom—impossible to judge by ordinary standards.

!.

Drawing the blade would release killing aura with cold light, alerting it immediately.

Li Yan chose the Waist Strike—like a beast pouncing, revealing its claws at the final moment.

And as he expected, “Blind San” was no ordinary creature.

As Li Yan charged, the wolf had already bitten through the arrowhead and pulled the shaft from behind, handling it like a human, minimizing damage.

An arrow piercing through would cripple a normal person.

But “Blind San” seemed unaffected—baring fangs, wrinkles forming on its snout, its single blood-red pupil contracting, it leapt onto the earthen wall and bounded away.

This leap reached five meters high, perfectly timed—it landed midair and lunged straight at the charging Li Yan.

Beast combat is a skill honed in the wild.

As top predators, wolf packs surround prey with howls and probing, while the strongest leaps to tear the throat—deadly strike, then the pack rushes in to tear apart.

Lone wolves also favor ambush, hiding beside paths, striking suddenly as travelers or prey pass by.

Like instinct, always finding the optimal method.

Now was no different.

“Blind San” leapt from the earthen wall—ordinary prey, whether turning to flee or raising their heads in panic, would expose their neck.

Wolf jaws tear the throat—no matter how large the prey, it’s useless.

But the one facing it was no ordinary man.

Sensing the stench of wind from above, Li Yan grew even calmer, his phoenix eyes narrowing, pupils glowing with icy fire; as “Blind San” descended, he spotted the vital spot, sidestepped, bent low, and flicked his right arm.

Clang!

As they crossed paths, the Guanshan saber slashed upward.

Cold light flashed, blood exploded.

“Blind San” crashed to the ground, a deep gash across its neck, blood spurting, limbs twitching in weak whimpers.

Li Yan stood five meters away, back turned to the wolf, flipped his blade to shake off blood, sheathed it smoothly, movements fluid as flowing water.

“Excellent sword technique!”

Blackie, watching from afar, surged with emotion and shouted praise.

This human-wolf duel lasted only moments, yet left him trembling, sweat beading on his forehead and palms.

On the other side, Li Yan sheathed his blade but still did not turn.

It wasn't an act—it was for another reason.

His face darkened; he touched his neck and found a cut there too—just a superficial scratch, yet it bled, missing the carotid artery by a hair's breadth.

“Blind San” was indeed flesh and blood, but his movements and reactions far surpassed those of any ordinary beast; even as Li Yan severed his neck, the beast managed to swipe a claw in passing.

“Brother Yan, are you alright?”

Behind him, Hei Dan had rushed over with his spear, asking anxiously.

“What could happen to me?”

Li Yan replied, slowly turning around.

Something strange happened: as he turned, the wound on his neck vanished instantly; the few drops of blood left behind seemed only to be splashes from the wolf’s blood.

Hei Dan hadn’t seen a thing—he exhaled in relief and turned to look at “Blind San” on the ground.

This vicious wolf was indeed terrifyingly fierce; even with blood pooling around him, breath faint, and unable to move, he still bared his fangs, glaring hatefully at Li Yan.

His gaze brimmed with venom, as if determined to etch Li Yan into his memory.

“You beast, still not dead!”

Hei Dan flew into a rage, jabbed his spear, and with a wet thud, drove the tip into the wolf’s one good eye, piercing straight into the brain.

Even then, “Blind San” thrashed a few times before finally going still.

At that moment, Li Yan suddenly sensed something, frowning.

“Blind San” was dead beyond doubt, yet the unique stench clinging to his body grew stronger, spreading outward.

Like an invisible wind, it intensified to an overwhelming peak, then vanished abruptly.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Li Yan inexplicably felt a chill along his back.

But upon closer inspection, there was nothing around him.

“Hei Dan, did you smell any foul odor?”

“What? No, I didn’t…”

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(End of chapter)