Chapter 162: Wolf Pack

Wang Yu's eyes glinted as he darted swiftly through the dense forest, closely monitoring every movement around him, striving to make no sound at all.

Since two Black Soul Sect disciples could appear here, who could guarantee no other demonic cultivators lurked nearby? The earlier battle had been loud—likely drawing the attention of those with ill intent—and he naturally needed to leave the battlefield as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, his expression changed; he shifted his body and pressed himself against a massive tree, then formed a hand seal. A few wisps of Bai Yun appeared beside him, and in a ripple of spiritual energy, he vanished without a trace.

Moments later, a dozen Black Soul Sect disciples in black robes flew in a group across the sky, heading precisely toward the site of the earlier battle.

Seeing this, Wang Yu's heart tightened; he maintained the concealment of Bai Yun Shu and continued slipping away silently.

Not long after, the group of Black Soul Sect disciples flew back overhead, faint curses audible from above.

Clearly, they had discovered the traces of the earlier fight and realized one of their own had perished here.

Wang Yu halted again, waited silently until the group had vanished far away, then quietly rose into the air, soaring to the treetop of the tallest nearby tree, hiding his body within the thick foliage, and once more scanned his surroundings.

These Black Soul Sect disciples, relying on their numbers, openly flew through the air—were they truly foolish, or did they have some other purpose?

Wang Yu pondered this, sensing something odd about their behavior.

The direction they headed revealed a faint shimmer of water in the distance—likely a sizable lake.

Wang Yu's gaze swept across other directions.

The Jialan Secret Realm was unknown in size, but from his vantage, he saw no horizon in any direction.

Within his line of sight, besides the vast dense forest beneath him, one distant direction showed a towering mountain range, another revealed patches of yellow soil—apparently a desert—and the remaining direction led to the lake where the demonic disciples had gone.

Beyond these three directions, all other horizons were thick, emerald-green forests, seemingly endless and covering the entire secret realm.

Standing on the branch of the treetop, Wang Yu silently considered his current location.

Since he had entered through a formal secret key, even if the entry point was randomized, he could not have appeared directly at the realm's center—this location was almost certainly still on the outer edges.

He could not remain in this area any longer; if a dozen demonic disciples could appear, who knew how many more might randomly emerge? Even if he sought a safe hiding spot, he could never hide here.

Thinking this, Wang Yu leapt down from the tree and slipped silently toward the mountain range.

He could not determine which direction was safer, so he naturally chose a terrain complex enough to aid concealment.

Lakes and deserts—both terrains revealed everything from the air—he would never choose either.

Because he had to remain constantly alert for hidden demonic disciples, his ground speed was slow; though the mountain range was faintly visible, it was still extremely distant—traveling at his current pace would take at least half a day.

To preserve his mental energy, he could not activate Overclock Mode continuously, so he advanced slowly, occasionally sweeping his spiritual sense around him, staying perpetually vigilant.

But after walking only seven or eight li, he suddenly frowned and stopped.

Almost simultaneously, from a patch of dense shrubbery ahead, a rustling "shush-shush" erupted—a dark shadow shot out with a stench of blood, lunging straight at Wang Yu.

Wang Yu shifted his body, stepped half a pace sideways, and threw a casual punch.

"Bang!" The shadow flew backward, crashing heavily into a tree before sliding to the ground—a yellow-furred wolf, half a zhang long.

The wolf seemed stunned by the punch; it groaned weakly on the ground for several moments before struggling to rise, its gaze toward Wang Yu now clearly filled with fear.

Seeing this, Wang Yu's face betrayed surprise.

He knew his strength—even without using his breathing technique—could deliver thousands of jin of force. For this wolf to survive a single punch was unexpected.

As he moved to deliver another blow, the yellow-furred wolf lifted its head and howled—a low, echoing cry that reverberated through the surrounding forest.

Wang Yu's expression changed; he flipped his hand, a long blade of green and red light appearing in his grip. He shifted his body and charged forward.

A flash of cold light—the yellow-furred wolf's head severed, falling into a pool of blood.

But in that brief moment, howls erupted one after another from other directions in the dense forest.

Without hesitation, Wang Yu dropped flat to the ground, limbs exploding with force, launching himself forward like a wild beast—his body leaping between trees, vanishing dozens of zhang away in moments.

Just as he relaxed slightly, landed again, and prepared to activate Bai Yun Shu, two green wolves burst from behind nearby trees.

These wolves were noticeably larger than the previous yellow one; as soon as they appeared, they opened their jaws simultaneously, spitting out two palm-sized, pale-green wind blades.

"Yao beast."

Wang Yu frowned, his body blurring—he advanced instead of retreating, leaping forward. The green-and-red blade blurred, flashing past the heads of both wolves.

Two green wolf heads rolled away, clattering to the ground.

But in that brief delay, more "swoosh-swoosh" sounds erupted from behind the trees—seven or eight more green wolves of identical size leapt out. Three charged directly at him; the other four opened their jaws, firing four more green wind blades.

Had he stumbled into a wolf den?

Wang Yu puzzled, shifted his body to evade the four wind blades, then suddenly kicked out—a blur of legs swept forward.

"Bang!" "Bang!" "Bang!"

The three charging wolves were struck squarely on their soft bellies, spewing blood as they flew backward, crashing to the ground—clearly dead.

This surprised Wang Yu, but he immediately sheathed his long blade at his waist, gripped the hilt, and uttered a low command: "Drawcut Technique." His body shot forward like a released crossbow bolt.

A bright slash of blade-light rose—the other four wolf heads rolled to the ground simultaneously.

Wang Yu raised his blade, his eyes glinting as he swept his spiritual sense in all directions—then his face turned pale. Without hesitation, he formed a hand seal; white clouds swirled around his body, and he shot straight into the air.

Almost simultaneously, from every direction behind the trees, countless wolves of various colors surged forth. Seeing the seven dead wolves on the ground and Wang Yu airborne, they all howled skyward in unison.

The howls were piercing and guttural—making the hair on one's skin stand on end.