CHAPTER 48: Again!!
At first, everything was calm: the steady rattling of the wheels, the lulling sway, and the old man’s measured voice recounting old stories while the forest drifted by outside like a green curtain, with nothing to hint at the disaster to come.
Until the howls arrived—at first so distant they seemed like part of the wind through the trees, and a moment later so close they made the skin crawl.
A neigh broke off halfway, a sharp impact shook the axle, and the carriage lurched violently. In that same instant, chaos erupted outside—shouts, muffled orders, the clash of metal, and the wet, guttural roars of beasts.
The three children went pale at once. The girl, around ten years old, reacted first, clutching the old man’s robe with all her strength, her whole body trembling. The other two immediately followed, huddling behind his hunched back like frightened chicks.
The old man said nothing. He simply spread his arms to shield them, his expression turning grave, while each impact made the wood creak. Beyond the walls, snarls mixed with screams that were cut off far too quickly.
When a guard’s cry was abruptly silenced, one of the children let out a soundless sob that vanished against the old man’s chest. The fear, which until then had only been trembling, thickened into something suffocating, just as the battle outside shifted in tone—the chaos sharpening into dull thuds and the sickening crack of bone.
Then came a tense silence, a suspended heartbeat, broken by a new howl—deeper, unnatural—that made the entire carriage vibrate before slowly dissolving into a quiet far worse than the noise.
“D-did they… leave?” the girl whispered, her voice trembling.
No one answered. The old man remained still, listening like an ancient statue. After several heartbeats, the most curious of the children swallowed, loosened his grip on the robe, and crawled toward the window, trembling as he pulled the curtain aside just a finger’s width.
And he saw him.
A young man of about fifteen had leapt from his horse, cutting through the air like an arrow loosed from the heavens. Time itself seemed to thicken in his wake. His black hair, streaked with strands of gold, streamed behind him in a high tail, and his golden eyes burned with a light that did not belong to this world.
In that instant, the children’s fear vanished. They did not see a cultivator or a warrior—they saw a sun god descending to earth.
“A-Grandpa…” the boy whispered, unable to look away, “there’s… someone outside.”
The old man approached slowly and looked as well. For the first time since the attack began, his eyes narrowed with a mix of shock and deep astonishment.
What they witnessed next would stay with them forever.
The young man took a single step—without shouting, without hesitation—and his fist moved. From the window, the children barely caught a flash before one of the wolves simply vanished. It wasn’t thrown back or sent flying—it exploded into a cloud of blood and fragments that splattered across the forest floor.
Wide-eyed, they barely had time to process it before the youth was already moving again, crossing the battlefield like a streak of golden shadow. Each time he paused for a fraction of a second, another wolf fell.
One after another, they died beneath fists, kicks, and a brutal grip that snapped a neck like dry wood. Five more wolves perished without ever understanding what had struck them.
“I-it’s… he’s so strong…” one of the children murmured, not with fear, but with pure admiration.
Then they saw him change targets, rushing toward the two older men their grandfather had hired as cultivators. He arrived just in time to catch one of them midair—with unreal ease—after a massive beast had sent him flying, setting him down safely before he could crash. In the next instant, he appeared between the other man and death itself, stopping the wolf with a single blow that forced it back.
The children held their breath, because from that moment on, everything changed.
The crimson wolf was enormous—savage, terrifying—and every movement it made seemed filled with enough force to shatter steel. In the first exchanges, the young man was pushed back, sliding across the dirt as he narrowly dodged claws and fangs.
“Is he… going to lose?” the girl whispered, her hands clenched tightly.
That was when the turning point came. The wolf dodged one of his punches, and instead of growing frustrated, the young man smiled.
He leapt toward a tree and, with a sharp pull, tore free a black spear embedded deep within it. The moment his fingers closed around the shaft, his entire presence changed. Even the children, watching from the window, felt it in their chests. Suddenly, the one at a disadvantage was the crimson wolf.
The spear began to dance—spinning, blocking, and striking in a single breath. Every time the beast tried to advance, the steel tip appeared before it like an impenetrable barrier. Crimson blood splattered the ground again and again, and its roars grew increasingly desperate.
The children were mesmerized. They had forgotten the fear, forgotten the chaos. With shining eyes and pounding hearts, they watched the scene as if a legend were unfolding before them.
At that moment, their world had narrowed to just two things—a red monster and a golden youth—and they were on the verge of shouting in pure excitement.
From the small carriage window, they saw the young man gather all his strength into a single strike. His fist surged forward like a falling sun, crashing into the chest of the crimson wolf.
A dull explosion rang out, and the massive beast was sent flying, uprooting trees before slamming violently into the ground, shaking the entire forest as dust rose in a thick cloud.
For an instant, everything fell silent.
“He killed it!” one of the children shouted, unable to contain himself. The other two exchanged bright-eyed looks, their hearts racing. Even the girl, who had been trembling with fear not long ago, clenched her fists in excitement, convinced that this was the perfect ending—that the hero had won.
But then, the air changed.
An invisible pressure descended upon the carriage, as if the sky itself had suddenly grown heavy. The children struggled to breathe, their bodies tensing as a primal, unexplainable fear crept down their spines.
“Behind me!” the old man growled, his face pale and the veins in his neck bulging as he struck the wooden floor with his palm. Instantly, the dormant patterns beneath the boards lit up, unfolding into a defensive array that sealed the interior of the carriage with a faint veil, filtering the corrosive energy already seeping through the cracks.
With difficulty, they looked outside again as the dust slowly settled… and then they saw it.
The thing that rose no longer looked like a wolf. Its chest was caved in and grotesquely twisted, yet it still stood, exuding a foul, dense energy—dark red tainted with black. Its silhouette was unnatural, distorted, and its eyes burned with absolute madness.
The children didn’t understand what had happened. They hadn’t seen it attack, hadn’t seen the movement—only the result. The golden-eyed youth was sent flying through the air like a fallen star, his body tracing a violent arc before disappearing into the trees.
The children’s hearts sank, and the carriage fell into absolute silence, broken only by the old man’s ragged breathing and the inhuman roar of that thing that should no longer be alive.
“Again!” one of the children cried, his voice breaking as he saw through the window how the young man was thrown into the air once more, his body slamming into the ground before rolling several meters. The fear that had barely retreated surged back with greater force, like a dark tide ready to devour them completely.
“He’s going to die…” the girl whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. Terror seized them again, their hands trembling as their bodies instinctively shrank behind the old man, as if they could escape that inevitable fate.
Then something happened that none of them expected.
The young man slowly rose, covered in blood, barely supporting himself with his weapon… and he smiled.
It wasn’t a kind or reassuring smile. It was arrogant, confident—almost provocative. A smile that said, without words, that this wasn’t over yet. The children held their breath.
The young man took a firm stance, planting his feet into the ground and gripping the spear with both hands. He didn’t move, didn’t retreat—he simply waited.
The grotesque being roared and charged at him with killing intent that made the air tremble—
—and then everything exploded.
The children barely caught a glimpse of what seemed like a martial technique, because a brilliant, pure golden flash erupted from his position and collided head-on with a mass of twisted, repulsive black energy.
The impact shook the forest. The light was so intense the children shut their eyes instinctively—and when they dared to open them again, the monster was already split in two.
Its body collapsed lifelessly as the dark energy dissipated like smoke in the wind, and silence fell once more—this time heavy, almost unreal.
For a second, the children were filled with euphoria.
“He won!”
“He really won!”
But their joy froze in their throats when they saw the young man slowly lower his gaze to his own side—where a terrible hollow had been carved into his body, a deep wound from which blood poured uncontrollably, spilling onto the ground like a broken stream.
Even so, the young man let out a low, ironic laugh.
“Well then…” he murmured, almost to himself.
Then, with that same sarcastic smile still etched on his face, his body lost its strength and fell forward.
The golden-eyed youth collapsed.