Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Truth!

“What is it?”

A thought flashed through Hu San’s mind. He immediately took out the black sword, and as soon as he released it, the blade hovered in the air, its tip trembling and pointing toward a certain direction, as if eager to fly off. But it had barely moved a step forward before it fell to the ground with a thud, like an old crone with a broken back, unable to rise again.

“How strange.”

Hu San tried picking up the sword and setting it down once more. As expected, it floated up again, but after another step, it crashed to the ground just as pitifully as before.

“Could there be something in that place drawing the sword? This is an artifact of an immortal cultivator; whatever can attract it must be of no small order. In this Wolfheart Stronghold, the most likely suspect is…”

“The Chieftain!”

Hu San’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. Had he learned of the Chieftain’s secret earlier, he would have been elated. But after seeing the man’s connection to the legendary cultivators, whatever excitement he felt had long since vanished. Now, forget facing a cultivator—even a first-rate martial artist would be beyond his means.

“Damn it, if he truly is a cultivator, once he comes out of seclusion, I’d never escape his clutches. I might as well use this chance to observe—perhaps I can gain something. After all, it’s said in legends that disturbing an immortal cultivator during cultivation is strictly forbidden.”

He licked his lips, determined. He walked a few steps, set down the sword to test its direction, and repeated the process. After a dozen such attempts, he finally reached a spot where the sword would float again.

In this way, Hu San advanced in a halting fashion, probing his way forward. At last, just before dawn, he found a pitch-black cave.

The entrance was well-concealed behind a massive stone. Unless one drew close, it was impossible to notice the cavity hidden in the rock’s shadow.

Entering, Hu San passed through initial darkness and turned a narrow bend. There, at the cave’s mouth, stood two crystalline pillars glowing faintly, illuminating the cavern in a soft, clear light. He could not tell what the pillars were made of.

He studied the surroundings closely. The cave was about the height and width of three men. The walls were scarred with numerous cuts, which for some reason made Hu San think of the claw marks of giant beasts.

Moving deeper, after less than sixty feet, the path turned sharply before slanting downward. Here and there, huge crystal columns adorned the way, so that not a trace of darkness remained.

After about half an hour, Hu San estimated he had descended from the mountain’s peak to its base. Suddenly, the tunnel opened into a vast underground chamber.

Countless snow-white stalactites, sharp as fangs, hung from the roof of this immense cavern.

At the very edge, Hu San saw two massive stalagmites, reminiscent of the ancient tusks of some primordial beast. Beneath them lay a shallow hollow, containing a pool of milky fluid that shimmered brilliantly and exuded a rich, enticing fragrance—a handful’s worth at most.

“Ten-thousand-year-old stalactite essence?!”

Hu San’s mind immediately leapt to the legends. His throat worked involuntarily, and he almost strode forward without thinking.

But he stopped short. For now, he saw that beside those two enormous stalagmites sat a huge, motionless figure.

Beside it lay the Chieftain’s signature black robe and mask, leaving its identity beyond doubt.

But it wasn’t the Chieftain’s exposure that made Hu San hesitate. The figure was covered in thick, long fur from head to toe.

And more than that—the true shock came as the figure came into full view: it had the head of a wolf and the limbs of a giant beast.

This was no Chieftain—it was a colossal black wolf, over six meters tall.

“Hu San?!”

A deep, emotionless voice rumbled from the wolf’s mouth. At the same time, its chest convulsed, blood spilling from its lips—wounded, just like that.

“Chieftain? You’re a demon beast?!”

If Hu San had any doubts left, he would be a fool. Judging by the scene, he had blundered into the Chieftain’s secret, even injuring him in the process—a grudge that would not be easily forgotten.

He wasted no words. Gripping his Nine-Ox Bow, he snapped his fingers, and a rain of iron arrows pelted the seated black wolf.

“You seek death!”

The black wolf had been at the critical moment of forming his demon core. Hu San’s intrusion forced him to disperse his gathered power, lest a stray attack interrupt his advancement at the most vital stage. Had an arrow struck while his core was forming and he was absorbing the world’s spiritual energy, the consequences would have been catastrophic. So he had no choice.

He had only just begun to form a plan when Hu San struck first.

Anger and shock warred within the wolf. He had been moments from forging his demon core, ready to refine it with the ten-thousand-year-old stalactite essence, perhaps even break through to the next realm and secure a position back in the Demon Beast Forest. Now, all had been ruined by this wretch.

Dispersing his demon energy was easy; gathering it anew would nearly cost him his life. Even in this place, rich with spiritual power, it would take at least twenty years to recover—a conservative estimate.

Twenty years! He hadn’t even been here ten years in total; twenty years was enough to raise several litters of pups.

Worse still, forcibly dispersing the gathered power had left him grievously wounded. To recover, he would have to use the stalactite essence, making his future advancement nigh impossible—perhaps forever out of reach.

He was nearly beside himself with rage.

Six iron arrows in a wedge formation flew at him; with a casual flick of his claws, the wolf knocked them to the ground.

“What a formidable body—worthy of a demon beast.”

Hu San let out a strange cry, but did not pause. On the contrary, his hands moved even faster. Arrows poured forth like a waterfall, pelting the black wolf relentlessly.

In the space of a few breaths, Hu San had emptied two quivers—over two hundred specially forged iron arrows. The black wolf, suffering from internal backlash, could only parry helplessly, unable to move.

The Nine-Ox Bow lived up to its name; at such close range, its power rivaled a siege crossbow. Though the wolf’s body was peerless, and his reflexes sharp, the backlash left him unable to use his demonic power. He had no choice but to endure dozens of arrows.

By the time Hu San exhausted his supply, the wolf’s body bristled with iron shafts—save for his head and chest, every inch looked like a porcupine.

Of all the arrows, those in his shoulders were the worst, nearly piercing his neck. The others in his limbs and torso were less threatening but still far from mild. In all the seven or eight years since he’d come here, the black wolf had never felt so close to death.

For a moment, he truly believed he was done for.

His body was grievously wounded; the suppressed backlash surged up again, and he coughed more blood, joining the streams already pouring from his wounds—altogether a pitiful sight.

A heavy scent of blood gradually filled the air, overpowering even the fragrance of the stalactite essence.

The wolf’s eyes, large as stone spheres, glared balefully at Hu San. Though grievously injured, his overall aura had only diminished slightly. Hu San couldn’t help but sigh, “What a tough hide—perfect for making a coat.”

Hearing this, the wolf nearly spat blood again.

His hatred was beyond words. If Hu San had come only a day later, he would have formed his demon core and completed his transformation. At that point, crushing Hu San would have been easier than squashing an ant.

But just this single day’s difference had almost cost him his life.

What vexed the black wolf most was Hu San’s reaction. Most would run in terror on encountering a demon beast, but this man’s eyes burned with fanatic desire.

He could not have known that Hu San had tasted demon beast flesh before, and his attitude was unlike any ordinary human.

“Chieftain, this Qilian Mountain is the domain of humanity. How dare you intrude! That is a capital crime—I won’t show you mercy.”

With righteous indignation, Hu San charged, steel blade in hand.

The black wolf was speechless, but secretly relieved. He knew Hu San had not been a martial artist six months ago; even with recent good fortune, he could not have reached the second major realm. At that level, Hu San’s attacks would be little more than a scratch—even unmoving, he could not be harmed.

Only the bow and arrows were a threat; beyond that, Hu San was of no consequence, even with his own power sealed.

When Hu San’s blade fell, the wolf casually raised a paw to block. But at the moment of contact, his body shuddered violently, as if struck by a ten-thousand-ton boulder.

The backlash within him surged again, and he spat another mouthful of blood.

Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

Seeing his attack succeed, Hu San did not let up. The flashing blade wove a silvery net, enveloping the black wolf completely.

With the strength of nine men, Hu San was nearly a match for a demon beast on the cusp of forming its core. Coupled with his peak fourth-rank internal energy, his power overwhelmed the black wolf.

Wounded in both body and spirit, the wolf was at his weakest, forced to defend desperately—barely able to preserve his life, let alone fight back. In just a few exchanges, Hu San had already hacked off several of his claws.