The mother ogre, carrying a large club, squinted her eyes, staggering ahead.
Alan followed behind his mother, occasionally stopping to sniff through the grass by the roadside.
He hadn't forgotten the pack of gray wolves.
Wolves like to urinate to mark their territory in their roaming areas.
Therefore, the grass and tree roots are always stained with the scent of wolf urine.
The other young ogres hadn't received any training in this area.
They couldn't smell the distinctive, pungent odor of wolf urine.
But Alan was different.
He had long since learned, from the memories of his ancestors, the technique of inferring prey and predators by scent.
Alan smelled a familiar scent.
He quickly ran forward, pulling his mother back.
The careless mother ogre hadn't yet sensed the danger.
"My dear, what's wrong?"
The mother ogre turned around and looked at her beloved son.
Alan pointed at the wet grass, her face filled with disgust.
"Oh?!"
The mother ogre knelt down and sniffed, her face immediately filled with realization.
"Wow! The smell of dog urine! There's a dog nearby!"
"Great! We'll have dog meat to eat today!"
The other little ogres were also heartlessly happy.
Alan said nothing, casually picking a handful of leaves.
He rubbed them vigorously with his hands, crushing them.
This was a plant similar to eucalyptus.
The leaves were rich in sap, and when crushed, they gave off a pungent smell, like burning wormwood.
Alan smeared the sap all over his body.
The little ogres covered their noses and stared at him blankly. I don't understand why he smeared the foul-smelling sap on himself.
In fact, it wasn't just the ogres who hated the smoky smell.
The wolves didn't like it either.
Given the choice, the gray wolves certainly wouldn't prioritize biting Alan, who already smelled unpalatable.
This was exactly the effect Alan desired.
A short distance ahead led to a valley.
At the valley's entrance, a sparse, tall tree grew.
The branches were covered with small, pale yellow flowers, attracting swarms of bees.
Alan looked up at the bees and suddenly had an idea.
He walked up to the tree and spat twice into his palms.
He rubbed his hands.
He hugged the trunk.
Swish, swish, swish!
He quickly climbed up.
The other young ogres were all stunned.
The mother ogre rubbed her bald head, also incredulous.
She herself couldn't climb trees, so where had Alan learned this trick?
Could this be the legendary gift?
As humanoid primates,
Ogres could theoretically climb trees.
However, most adult ogres are fat and bulky, making it difficult for them to master the technique.
It's best to practice climbing trees during childhood, when their bodies haven't developed and they're lighter.
However, since the mother couldn't climb trees, most young ogres had no desire to practice.
Alan was an exception.
After all, beneath his ogre appearance, he harbored a human soul.
A beehive hung on the tree.
Swarms of bees were busily gathering honey.
Alan sat on a thick branch.
The beehive was only an arm's length away.
The bees didn't like his smoky wormwood smell.
They wouldn't sting him.
Alan casually broke off a thick branch and toyed with it.
At the same time, he stared at the beehive with ill intent.
Suddenly, the howling of wolves echoed from the valley.
Seven gray wolves came running over.
The female ogre raised her club high and charged forward, roaring.
Bang!
The club struck the wolf head-on.
The wolf's brain exploded!
Two gray wolves attacked from behind, tearing at the female ogre's calf.
Adult ogres have thick skin and flesh.
The hungry wolf's fangs could only pierce the surface. The mother ogre, oblivious to the pain, swung her club like crazy, beating the nearest gray wolf.
If she were hunting alone, killing the entire pack wouldn't be too difficult.
However, this careless mother forgot her young children were following her.
The four little ogres, barely a month old, hadn't received formal hunting training.
Their skin was also quite delicate.
Faced with four gray wolves, they instinctively pounced and wrestled.
In both physique and skill, a single fight with an adult gray wolf would put them at a disadvantage.
Soon, the two little ogres were brutally killed by the wolves' bites.
Alan sat on a tree branch, shrugging regretfully.
His ancestor had died the same way in his previous life.
So, after suffering a loss, he'd learned a lesson.
The two gray wolves abandoned the little ogre's corpse and bared their teeth, howling in protest at Alan in the tree.
Alan wasn't going to let them off.
He suddenly swung his branch!
With a snap, he brought down the beehive.
The hive shattered on the ground.
The startled bees immediately fled, swarming towards the two gray wolves closest to them.
The wolves' screams and the buzzing of the bees echoed through the valley.
Ten minutes later.
Alan climbed down from the tree and found the two wolves, their heads covered in stings and nearly dead.
He lifted a rock and threw it at them.
Soon, both wolves lay in a pool of blood.
The battle on the other side of the valley was also over. The mother ogre single-handedly killed three gray wolves.
The remaining two gray wolves, seeing the situation was dire, fled.
On the ogre family side.
Two cubs died, and two others were bitten by the gray wolves, though fortunately, their injuries were not fatal.
Throughout the battle, only Alan remained unscathed.
The mother brought the two bloodied cubs to him.
At this moment, he was leisurely licking honey.
Two little ogres died, one male and one female.
Sadly, Alan's loyal eldest sister was among them.
But it didn't matter.
The little ogres that had survived, Alan's second and youngest sisters, had been licking their flesh for a long time.
Alan would never lack a mate in the future.
…
Alan, carrying his prey, followed his mother and sisters back to the nest.
At this moment, his consciousness gradually faded.
He was forcibly kicked out of his meditative state.
Alan opened his eyes, lost in thought.
The principal had said this was normal.
The ancestral spirit he had just merged with had, in his real life, died at the hands of a hungry wolf.
In his final moments, while his consciousness was blurred, he watched his mother, siblings, and a pack of wolves battle.
Before his death, his last burning obsession was resignation.
He refused to accept this premature death.
He refused to accept the thought of dying without even killing a single wolf.
If he were given a chance to start over, he would surely perform better than this time.
The young ogre, having died young, had no chance to start over, but this obsession was imprinted within his soul, sealed within the bloodline galaxy.
Alan used the secrets of meditation to connect his spirit with the Bloodline Galaxy.
Through the bloodline bond, he unlocked forgotten memories and absorbed the little ogre's obsession.
Alan helped him fulfill his dying wish.
After this, the ancestral spirit's final obsession was resolved, leaving no memories for Alan to draw upon.
Through role-playing, he fulfilled the ancestral spirit's unfulfilled wish.
This is the ideal state that "Atavistic Meditation" can achieve.
Achieving this achievement brings immense benefits to the meditator!
Alan was experiencing this benefit right now.
The progress he gained from a single meditation session was ten times greater than usual!
Even more surprising was...
After the successful conclusion of this meditation, his ogre bloodline had finally fully awakened, officially promoting him to a sorcerer's apprentice!