The young man leaned out the narrow window of the carriage, the silk curtain rustling lightly as he peered ahead. His sharp eyes squinted against the light haze of dust that hung above the road like a curtain.
Beyond the creaking of wheels and the rhythmic clatter of hooves, something felt off.
"I cannot make out the cause," he murmured. "Guard!"
One of the armored sentries by the carriage snapped to attention.
"Ride ahead and report. There's disturbance on the path."
The guard gave a curt nod and mounted swiftly, disappearing into the dusty trail at a gallop. The young man drew back inside the lacquered carriage and exhaled. Facing him sat a woman robed in blue-gray silk, her bearing noble and eyes sharp. The family resemblance between them was undeniable—though where he radiated youthful vitality, she radiated tempered restraint.
"I saw nothing," he admitted with a frown, brushing dust from his sleeve. "He'll return soon."
The sister's fingers drifted toward her sleeve. A glint of steel was hidden there. Her posture tensed as the sound of rapid hoofbeats returned sooner than expected.
KNOCK. KNOCK.
The carriage door shook lightly.
"If there's danger, I'll signal," the young man whispered, his hand hovering near his waist sash.
With slow care, he opened the door—only to find the guard panting and pale, sweat streaking down his face.
"My lord!" the guard wheezed, collapsing onto a rock. "A lone man… he's fighting—seven! Seven white wolves! He's wounded, but still… standing."
The lady's eyes widened, brows furrowing.
The young man leaned out once more.
"Where?"
But the answer came not from the guard's lips—rather from the sound of snarling wind and bellowing flame up the road.
~~ Moments Before
Li Wuji stood amid shattered bramble and bloodied soil, his body a patchwork of torn cloth and seeping gashes. A ring of wolves encircled him—teeth bared, eyes glowing with fury.
His sack was gone, lost down the ravine.
But vengeance still hunted him.
"Though I no longer carry your young," he muttered hoarsely, "some of you still choose death."
A growl rose—and one lunged.
Too soon.
[Third Move of Devil Flame Fist — Fist Demon]
"They are always the impatient ones…"
Li Wuji's fist snapped upward. CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.
Three brutal strikes—each more vicious than the last—slammed into the wolf's ribs, folding it like parchment. The beast crumpled, twitching. Li Wuji tossed it aside like rotted meat.
The others did not pause.
A synchronized onslaught.
Four wolves lunged. One circled from behind. Another snapped for his ankle.
He went down.
THUD!
Fur and claws rained on him.
He howled in pain, arms crossed to protect his face. One wolf's jaws clamped over his forearm. Another bit at his thigh.
Yet, amidst the chaos, one muzzle neared his neck—its breath foul with blood and hunger.
No more.
[Second Move of Ghost Martial Claw Art — Ravaging Claw]
He roared.
His hand transformed into a shimmering blur. With a desperate upward slash, his claws found the wolf's underbelly—digging, ripping, tearing.
RIP!
The beast let out a strangled whine and collapsed, twitching violently. Blood soaked the ground beneath it.
Li Wuji rolled away, coughing, one eye nearly swollen shut.
HOWL!RRRGHH!!
The road appeared ahead—flat, sun-beaten, and empty.
He staggered forward, blood smearing behind him.
The wolves regrouped. Hesitation tugged at them. Their pack had thinned. Yet still they advanced.
Li Wuji swayed, halting on the open road. The silence was oppressive.
"I can't last much longer," he muttered, "but neither can they…"
In the quiet, a distant rumble.
Hoofbeats.
He turned sharply.
'More than four carriages… heavy gait… noble dispatch?'
His heart sank, then raced.
'Still within the Black Temple's domain. I can't risk exposure—'
But the wolves snarled, snapping closer.
And the carriages were almost in view. Black-maned horses pulling gold-inlaid coaches, their sides bearing indistinct emblems.
'They've seen me.'
There was no time.
Li Wuji inhaled deeply—and ran.
The first carriage crested the slope.
Its driver pulled back on the reins.
"Wolves—!"
Before he could finish, Li Wuji emerged from the underbrush—a streak of crimson and dirt, staggering but swift.
Behind him, a ripple of white fur burst into view.
Seven wolves, eyes bloodied, teeth bared, bore down on the road like a flood of death.
The driver shouted.
The second carriage swerved.
Inside the lead carriage, the young noble's eyes widened.
"Prepare for combat!"
The guards dismounted, spears ready, shields raised.
Yet it was not to them that Li Wuji turned.
He sprinted between them all—toward the third carriage—and then angled sharply into the nearby forest.
The wolves, disoriented by the new presence, hesitated.
But not for long.
Their hunger drove them onward.
The young noble exited his carriage, face grim.
"Should we pursue?" one guard asked.
"No. Not yet." His eyes scanned the path, noting the claw marks, blood trails, and strange sack remnants.
"Find out who he was," he said, gaze lingering on the place where Li Wuji vanished. "He may be no ordinary wanderer."
The scene now veers toward wary alliance and unspoken tension, where swords might yet rest but minds remain sharp. Li Wuji plays the diplomat beneath blood and ragged breath, while nobles step into dusk's uncertainty with quiet purpose. Let us write anew.
'It seems they possess some intelligence after all…'
Li Wuji cast a final glance over his shoulder as he slowed near the convoy's perimeter. The wolves had halted their pursuit—not from exhaustion, but calculation. Their bloodlust was undiminished, yet something in their instincts told them the odds had shifted.
They stood now in the underbrush—eyes aglow like will-o'-the-wisps—silent, but watching. Their paws shifted uneasily on the forest floor, hackles raised, yet none made to leap forward.
The caravan's guards, meanwhile, had seen enough.
Steel rang.
SHING. CLINK. SHHHHHHH.
Blades were drawn. Spears lowered. Shields raised.
Dozens of eyes bore down on Li Wuji—each belonging to a man trained to kill at a word.
The guards moved with precision, their stances practiced and silent. A wall of armored bodies now framed the front carriages, while several broke off to cover the rear and flanks.
'Hm. Trained. Likely retainers from one of the mid-tier noble houses,' Wuji mused even as he stumbled to a halt.
He raised a hand—not toward the wolves, but to the nearest soldier, a grim-faced man with a scar etched diagonally across his cheek.
"Forgive the abrupt intrusion," Li Wuji began, his voice hoarse yet steady. "But unless I stand beside you, those wolves will feast on my corpse and then move on to your horses."
The man scowled but said nothing.
Li Wuji took a step forward, then another, gesturing behind him at the tree line where silver-furred shapes loomed like phantoms.
"I have already killed several," he added. "Their blood is on me, and they will not cease until they reclaim it."
The scar-faced guard studied him, then grunted.
"You bring trouble to our gate, stranger," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder. "But we do not turn aside in the face of bloodthirst."
With that, he raised his hand in signal.
WHUP-WHUP The sound of a signal fan being unfurled broke the stillness.
"Shields forward!"
"Line two, to the rear!"
The soldiers moved with precision. Bows were drawn. Crossbowmen took aim. Horses were reined in tight. The convoy transformed from passive transport into a fortified line of war-ready discipline.
Li Wuji exhaled slowly. 'Better than expected. Now I must pay the price of their protection with my mouth rather than my fists.'