Chapter 382: Act 139 – The Great Wolf (Second Update)
Brendel was too lazy to pay attention to the spoiled noble lady. He raised his head and carefully observed the dark mass of wolves. As Ward’s cavalry retreated, those black wolves indeed became restless.
In just a moment, the beasts surrounded them—eleven black wolf lords lurked like sharks in a sea of darkness, and Brendel realized they were driving their kin forward, intending to encircle them.
Brendel was not polite. At first, to avoid drawing too much attention, he hid the summoned Wind Spirit Spiders in the nearby forest. But now, with a flick of his hand, over two hundred golden light dots immediately surged up from the forest like bombers, soaring into the air and diving toward the black wolf pack, each dive creating a column of golden light.
This time, Brendel did not hold back his firepower; he unleashed a round of attacks completely. Over a hundred light columns flickered in the night, and with each flicker, several black wolves turned to ashes.
His expression remained impassive as he saw the experience points on his retina cascade down like a waterfall; it looked spectacular but was actually not much.
However, the source of this experience on the battlefield was quite shocking.
When the golden light columns were the densest, they nearly wove into a large net. Under Brendel’s command, the light net gradually extended backward, and any black wolf that crossed this golden grid immediately burst into flames, becoming a dazzling fireball. For a moment, the wolf pack exploded with fiery lights, finally coalescing into a blinding sea of white.
The burning black wolves continued to charge forward, but after a few steps driven by inertia, they disintegrated into a tar-like mass. Countless black wolves went through this process repeatedly until the light net shimmered slightly and then vanished.
The entire process lasted only a blink of an eye.
In the next moment, Ward and his centaur guards halted simultaneously. These elder centaur guards had witnessed the fiercest battles in the Black Forest, even having experienced fighting earth dragons, yet this time they could not help but collectively draw a cold breath.
From their stationary position extending nearly a hundred feet ahead—
The originally dense tide of black wolves had completely vanished, leaving behind only an expanse of scorched ashes.
In what seemed like a breath’s time, hundreds and thousands of black wolves had been reduced to dust. Even the black wolves, though magical creatures, were deterred by this terrifying assault, hesitating to advance.
5250 experience points.
Brendel remained unfazed; he once again paid 2 points of earth element to replenish his Sacred Sword Technique’s expenditure. The Wind Spirit Spiders glowed brightly in the air—as if waiting for the next movement from the dozen or so black wolf lords.
But the black wolves still lingered indecisively.
“Move forward quickly!” Brendel heard Ward loudly ordering his subordinates from a distance. Indeed, this was a rare opportunity.
But Brendel’s goal was not this.
He raised his head, his gaze crossing the sheets of black waves to the limits of his sight, where the battlefield was shrouded in mist.
Beside him, the Tree Spirit leader, Quinelle, also looked in that direction—
“There’s a wolf,” Quinelle said.
Brendel nodded; the wolves’ reactions confirmed this. He wasn’t using the Sacred Sword Technique to carve a path through the tide of black wolves—that was the task for the centaur elder Ward—but rather to observe the wolves’ reactions.
However, the reaction of the black wolves seemed quite ‘reasonable.’
But Brendel understood that real monsters were not like this. Monsters were beings twisted by magical power, especially low-level ones like black wolves, which were chaotic and lacked rationality and would never retreat when attacked—considered not as individuals, but as a collective entity.
Injured black wolves would only become more frenzied.
Yet they retreated.
This indicated that the black wolves were deliberately avoiding harm—the only one capable of doing this was the alpha wolf among them—the male wolf. It was precisely because the male wolf possessed intelligence comparable to that of a human adult that it could consciously command the wolf pack to minimize their losses.
However, this logical reaction exposed the existence of the king among the wolves.
Just moments later.
A long howl suddenly rang out across the misty battlefield, distinct from the usual howls of black wolves, loud and mournful, as if heralding something.
“It has realized we have discovered it,” Quinelle’s expression changed, and as she took off her longbow, she whispered.
The black wolf pack began to stir—
Brendel nodded again; that beast was cunning, likely guessing his intentions. This feeling was a bit chilling, especially when you knew a beast matched your intelligence, calculating how to bite your throat.
It made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.
At least Brendel noticed that Carglis, who was usually fearless, had also changed color: “A beast can be this smart?” the young noble from the Mintai region couldn’t help but question.
The Tree Spirit leader raised a finger to signal for silence: “Shh—”
“That’s the male wolf; don’t doubt its authority, be careful it doesn’t sever your throat while you sleep,” the Tree Spirit whispered.
This time, it wasn’t just Carglis; this eerie tone made those nearby, such as Genos and Roland, shiver.
Brendel watched this scene and felt no amusement.
This was the male wolf.
In the Black Forest, a certain legend had long been passed down:
Every hundred years, during the dual moons’ co-mingling—the year of the tidal cycle—in this year, any young wolf born under the red moon would devour its siblings and parents, then grow into a giant wolf stronger, more cunning, and more ferocious than ordinary wolves.
The male wolf.
Another legend mentioned that the male wolf was the mate of the calamity wolf, Echis. They mated after summer arrived, and their offspring walked like humans, creating the perpetual scourge of the Black Forest—the Nightshade.
Regardless of which tale, they vividly illustrated the cunning and ferocity of the male wolf.
And the truth was just as daunting—
Brendel gazed through the misty battlefield, his gaze seeming to pierce through the fog.
“Antinna,” he then said.
“Mm?” The noble girl gasped, turning her head, her face somewhat pale.
Antinna looked nervous, the low growls surrounding her almost drowning out her heartbeat—surrounded by an endless tide of black wolves, it felt as if she were in a small boat amidst raging waves, liable to be capsized at any moment.
In fact, everyone felt similarly; the faces of the young people were not much better.
Moreover, the air was thick with the acrid smell of burning, and the young lady from Bruglas felt nauseated at the thought of where that smell came from.
Yet she suppressed her urge to vomit, holding onto her skirt to avoid touching any filth and hurried a few steps to catch up to Brendel, asking, “Lord, is there something you need?”
“I remember the potion I brewed is with you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Hand me the gray bottle.”
Upon hearing this, Antinna immediately opened a small pouch at her waist. Brendel saw various potions neatly arranged inside, carefully categorized. He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows; at least he himself couldn’t achieve that.
Even though he had once been a level 130 veteran warrior, Brendel still habitually tossed his potions together as if expecting a surprise when he pulled one out.
Yet in the game, most times, grabbing the wrong potion could be fatal, especially when you were on the verge of dying and looking for a bottle of holy water only to pull out a bottle of ketchup instead.
You’d know how awkward that would be.
But this bad habit had accompanied him for years, and Brendel had never intended to change it; now he discovered he at least had an assistant who could help him alter this.
Antinna swiftly pulled out the third vial from the left, the entire process taking less than a second, and handed the potion to Brendel.
“Antinna,” Brendel took the vial and couldn’t help but say.
“Mm?” The noble girl looked slightly stunned.
“I think compared to Diya,” he replied while removing the cork from the vial, “you and Flour resemble sisters more—though who’s the elder sister and who’s the younger?”
Antinna shot him a glare but didn’t forget to carefully secure the pouch.
Brendel, however, raised his head to look at the battlefield—the mist seemed to grow thicker—as if an endless sea of black beasts with bl**d-red eyes surged from the fog, beginning to approach once more, changing the tide of battle.
Could this wolf pack be the Mist Howlers?
Brendel knew that every male wolf had a unique name and possessed its unique abilities. It was said that the Mist Howler could navigate through dense fog, taking the lives of travelers lost in the white mist.
He furrowed his brow; nature-affiliated male wolves were the hardest to deal with, and he preferred to face physical type ones. For instance, Bloodclaw and Frostbite were far easier.
What a pity.
Brendel cursed inwardly; the cunningness of the male wolves exceeded his expectations. He hadn’t thought the druids could create such a large spectacle up front yet still fail to attract the two male wolves together, while even facing a single male wolf was proving to be quite arduous for their group.
That was the male wolf.
A sophisticated elemental creature.
The mist was getting thicker and thicker; not just Brendel, even the others noticed this. The young people ceased their discussions, the eerie changes in the surrounding environment making them tense.
The Erluin embassy also drew a bit closer, and Brendel could see the knights clad in green armor making their way through the thick, white mist toward them.
He tilted his head back and drank the murky gray liquid from the vial in hand.
That was the Eagle Eye potion, which could enhance one’s perception attribute by 20 levels for an hour. The materials were giant eagle feathers and magical ferns; both materials were inexpensive in the Green Tower, but the potion itself was extraordinarily useful, and Brendel had brewed plenty for backup.
As soon as Brendel downed the potion, he felt his vision clear up, as if the mist had turned translucent. He turned his head and immediately saw a shadow the size of a mountain flash by in the north.
“cr*p,” Brendel cursed, “fast movements.”
He immediately raised his hand, signaling everyone—especially the centaur elders at the front—to slow down. At this point, speeding away from here was meaningless; if they didn’t take down the male wolves, none of them would stand a chance.
The surroundings eerily fell silent.
Then suddenly, a sharp scream broke the brief silence—
It was the wail of a human at the moment of d*ath.
