The demon wolf moved first.
It didn't lunge or charge like the beasts on lower floors. Its body simply blurred—one moment standing on the platform, the next moment gone.
Long Chen's eyes snapped left, following the disturbance in the air—
The wolf was already there, jaws wide, fangs gleaming as they aimed directly for his throat.
Long Chen twisted his body violently to the right. The wolf's fangs missed his neck by a hair's breadth, hot breath washing across his skin. He could feel the displaced air from how close the bite had been.
Too close.
His hand moved on instinct, drawing Demon Dweller mid-dodge. The cursed blade slid free from its sheath with a metallic whisper. Long Chen brought it around in a horizontal slash aimed at the wolf's exposed flank—
Empty air.
The beast was already gone.
Long Chen's spiritual sense screamed a warning. He spun, bringing his sword up defensively—
Not fast enough.
