Chapter 3: Apologies, I Have a Cheat Skill

Swiftly, Wu Qingsong recognized the voice of the elf called Kleine. His intervention halted the uproar among the mastiff soldiers. On his command, half were dispatched to get some rest, while the remainder fortified critical spots within the village.

“They’ve come at just the right time,” came Kleine’s excited voice from outside. “This village indeed has ties with them. This time, we’ll kill them all.”

Nevertheless, the wolves’ howls continued to change direction around the village’s perimeter. It was as if they were pinpointing weak spots in the defenses or maybe just trying to sow confusion. Yet, no significant event transpired.

Carrying a blend of unease and hope, the wolfwomen remained vigilant until the early hours when their bodies and minds eventually surrendered to fatigue.

For Wu Qingsong, however, rest remained elusive. His body yearned for sleep, but his mind was abuzz. Each scenario he conjured in his mind was grimmer than the last. As he tried to imagine how the next hours or days would play out, a looming sense of crisis intensified within him.

Time stretched on until, suddenly, the door was violently flung open, and shortly after, several fully armed mastiffmen entered.

While the dim light obscured their features from Wu Qingsong, he unmistakably noticed the mastiffman marked with an eye scar, who regarded him with blatant satisfaction.

The foremost mastiffman nonchalantly singled out a few wolfwomen. Wu Qingsong identified him by voice alone. It was Nag, the wolf rider who likely held a rank akin to a squad captain.

Gathering his courage, Wu Qingsong asked, “What are you planning to do?”

Nag cast a sidelong glance, lips curling slightly to bare threatening teeth, resembling a growling hound issuing a warning.

“Half-elf,” his voice resonated deeply, “when your own life is at stake, best tend to yourself. Refrain from actions surpassing your station or abilities.”

“Take them out,” he subsequently decreed.

The wolfwomen unleashed another scream of terror. This time, however, Wu Qingsong was utterly powerless to protect them. He could do nothing but watch as they were violently dragged away by the mastiffmen. The scar-eyed brute, reveling in his cruelty, grabbed the wolfwoman who had expressed her gratitude to Wu Qingsong just a day prior, flaunting her as he passed by and brutally shoving Wu Qingsong in the process.

“After I’ve had my fun with them, I’ll kill them. Or perhaps I’ll first kill those rebel scum coming to save them. Half-breed scam, did you really think invoking Lord Vals’s name would make us cower?” he hissed into Wu Qingsong’s ear, his tone dripping with malice. “I’m going to take great pleasure in tearing these whores apart while they’re still breathing. And you? You’ll die by my very hands for trying to flee, never laying eyes on Lord Vals. Haha! Let the fear consume you, mongrel. Your days are numbered.”

Gritting his teeth, Wu Qingsong’s fingers clamped down on his knife handle. He had racked his brain, thinking of ways to break free from this dire situation but to no avail. He didn’t even know where to begin. Lord Kleine even seemed to have anticipated and likely prepared for the arrival of reinforcements for the wolfkin in the village. 

Was there truly no way out?

His thoughts raced, yet given the direness of the situation, no solution or means of escape presented itself. Everything seemed bleak and hopeless.

The nauseating stench of the scar-eyed man’s breath made Wu Qingsong’s insides recoil, but it was the loathsome, self-satisfied smirk on the villain’s face that truly flamed his fury. If he couldn’t find a way out, he would, at the very least, ensure the world was rid of one less vile being.

“I need to tell you something…” he murmured in a purposely distorted voice to the scar-eyed fiend, making his words tantalizingly unclear and thereby baiting the arrogant brute’s curiosity.

“What did you mumble?” 

The scar-eyed inadvertently leaned closer, attempting to discern what he believed to be the last desperate words of his victim.

However, he was met with an unexpected and piercing sting, quickly followed by an icy sensation in his throat.

Stretching out his claws, he tried to grasp the petite half-elf standing before him. Yet, his body felt heavy, as if bound by countless ropes. He wanted to shout, but the gaping wound in his throat stifled any cry.

‘He dared to…?’ That was the last thought in his mind.

“Horner,” Nag called out, standing at the doorway. He saw the scar-eye mastiffman, still uncomfortably close to Wu Qingsong, gripping him tightly. A wave of disgust coursed through him.

The identity of this ambiguous half-elf did bring about feelings of revulsion. However, who could gauge the unpredictable reactions of those mercurial, high-born elves?

They might indeed see Wu Qingsong as a stain on their esteemed lineage, ready to inflict unspeakable cruelties upon him. Yet, more often than not, they also wouldn’t stomach beings they regard as lesser, treating him similarly.

Had this not been the case, on recognizing the faint signs of his mixed heritage, Nag would have killed him immediately. Why else would he have been spared for so long?

“Horner,” Nag called out again, his voice laced with impatience. But the troublesome subordinate, Horner, remained unmoving in his position. 

The wolfwoman standing next to him, however, bore a deeply unsettled look. The overwhelming scent of blood reached Nag, and his gaze fell upon a spreading pool of red beneath Horner. He quickly grasped what had unfolded.

“Damn it!” In fury, Nag drew his sword.

In that split second, the half-elf, with a primal scream, pushed Horner’s lifeless body toward him. Nag effortlessly side-stepped the corpse and wasn’t surprised when the half-elf, acting just as he had anticipated, unsheathed Horner’s sword and lunged fiercely.

With a sharp clang, Wu Qingsong’s fervent attack, infused with every ounce of his strength was easily deflected by Nag. In a swift motion, after parrying the blade, Nag landed a brutal punch on the half-elf’s face with his iron-gloved fist. 

Stumbling backward, Wu Qingsong’s grip loosened. His sword dropped with a thud.

Nag was fully aware of the strength he’d exerted. The half-elf’s jaw must’ve been at least half shattered. But then again, this predicament was one that Wu Qingsong had courted. In Nag’s eyes, it wasn’t a deliberate slight against elven blood.

The half-elf had slain a guard and even tried to kill him. Lord Kleine’s orders were clear, and the moment to execute them was now.

Nag felt a surge of excitement as the scent of blood filled the air. Even though this half-elf might be from an uncertain lineage and seemed unimportant, the elven blood running through his veins was undeniable. Drenching his sword in such noble blood was a rarity that not every warrior experienced.

With adrenaline pumping, Nag moved toward the fallen Wu Qingsong. With a casual swipe, he pushed away a wolfwoman who tried to obstruct him. As he readied his blade for the kill, chaos suddenly erupted outside.

Persistent wolf howls filled the air, intermixed with the agonizing screams of dying mastiffmen.

Lord Kleine’s icy voice, tinged with fury, commanded, “Fools, hold your positions. Overwhelm them.”

An unexpected sharp pain jolted Nag. Turning in rage, he was met with the sight of the supposedly defeated half-elf, plunging a dagger deep into his foot. In a mix of pain and anger, Nag retaliated, forcefully drove his sword downwards, and gave it a cruel twist.

The half-elf’s face was a mask of torment, but something was amiss. Instead of collapsing as anticipated, the half-elf clung tenaciously to Nag’s arm, his dagger stabbing wildly at any unprotected skin. This unexpected turn of events drew another roar of fury from Nag. Using his free hand, he hammered repeatedly at the half-elf’s head, finally flinging him away.

“Damnation!” Nag spat out a string of curses, clutching his bleeding arm.

Blood spurted from his wounds. Despite his extensive military background and numerous encounters with formidable adversaries, this eerie confrontation was a first for him.

An involuntary glance toward the fallen half-elf gave Nag a heart-stopping shock. Defying all odds, the half-elf was clambering to his feet, teeth gritted in determination, and lunging at Nag with an almost otherworldly fury.

Nag’s composure completely crumbled. Though he had battled foes ten times fiercer, and faced overwhelming odds without a hint of fear, the being before him now transcended his understanding. He gazed at its face, which should’ve been a mutilated mess from his brutal onslaught. But it remained untouched, devoid of any injuries. The torso that he was certain he had pierced had no wound, only a few tattered parts in its attire.

“It can’t be!”

With a roar echoing his disbelief, Nag switched his sword to his left hand and took a fierce swing at the half-elf’s head. He could clearly see the blade pressing deep into the creature’s neck, indenting it, yet it didn’t slice through the skin or cut the throat as it should have.

After falling due to the force of the hit, the creature struggled but rose yet again, pushing Nag further into a pit of madness.

In desperation, he lashed out, slashing and stabbing at the inexplicable entity before him. Yet, after each strike, the creature got up with an even more terrifying expression.

Then, a sharp pain shot through him from behind. With another roar, Nag swung around wildly with his blade, striking the wolfwoman ambusher on her shoulder. This time, blood flowed as he had anticipated. But in the blink of an eye, another searing pain engulfed him, sapping away all his remaining strength.

“What… What are you? What sort of… creature… are you?” 

His voice faltered as he fell, eyes wide open in a mix of terror and bewilderment, unblinking even in death.

Wu Qingsong tightly gripped the dagger that had brought down two mastiff warriors, unable to utter a word.

Outside, the night was pierced by roars and screams of pain. The sounds jolted Wu Qingsong back to the grim reality. Inside the house, young wolfwomen gathered around their brave companion, tears streaming. Nag’s strike had nearly split her in two. Her end was imminent.

“Please… save them. Take them away,” she beseeched Wu Qingsong, breathing her last moments later.

Wu Qingsong’s thoughts were a tumultuous storm. The fierce clamor of battle echoed from outside. He picked up Nag’s discarded sword and hastily pressed Honer’s weapon into the hands of the eldest-looking wolfwoman.

“Follow me,” he bellowed.

He couldn’t fathom the inexplicable changes within him, but this wasn’t the moment for reflection. All that mattered now was what those changes meant for him.

The canine soldier’s blade proved ineffective against him. This realization bolstered his confidence, that even with his rudimentary knowledge of swordplay, he could defeat the foe before him as long as he channeled his pain into a fighting spirit.

The previously detained wolfwomen were under the watchful eye of a soldier, his weapon at the ready. The sentinel was taken aback to see Wu Qingsong walking out with determination and sword drawn. He barked a rallying cry and lunged forward.

Bracing himself, Wu Qingsong engaged the attacker. His unrefined swordsmanship momentarily bewildered the soldier, offering Wu Qingsong an opening to aim a blow at his throat. His strike found its mark, sending the guard reeling, but not before the soldier’s blade had embedded itself into Wu Qingsong’s side.

“To hell with you!” Wu Qingsong shouted defiantly.

The searing pain was almost unbearable, yet as his opponent crumpled beside him, that torment morphed into sheer determination. Dismissing his fear, he staggered upright, plunging his blade repeatedly into the downed foe.

A decisive stab, followed by another as he regained his footing from the enemy’s earlier parry.

The vanquished soldier’s final moments were painted with incredulity. His lifeless eyes were wide open, and his slack-jawed expression seemed to whisper in disbelief, “How could this be?”

A tremor ran through Wu Qingsong. For someone of his age, this ordeal was beyond overwhelming. A reality far removed from his initial expectations of this new world. But the pressing urgency allowed him no luxury to console his shaken mind.

Using his sleeve, he wiped the blood off his face and urgently shouted to the wolfwomen behind him, “What are you waiting for? Move!”

From a short distance away, another soldier’s eyes fixed on them. Left with no other option, Wu Qingsong waved his sword once more and dashed forward.

During their harrowing escape, he couldn’t determine the number of soldiers he killed in such a manner. Three? Maybe four? However, the tumultuous scene before him slowly shifted, unveiling a forest and scorched fields.

The haze of battle, the clash of arms, and the angry roars seemed to abruptly fade, left far behind them as they advanced

Did they escape?

But the shrill cries of the wolfwomen shattered that brief respite. A deep, menacing growl echoed from the trees nearby, and soon after, Wu Qingsong laid eyes on a massive silhouette with shades of black and gray.

A colossal wolf, unchained and without a master.

Clearly having escaped the chaos of the battlefield, its body bore a broken arrow, with blood marring its mouth and fur.

Almost instinctually, Wu Qingsong positioned himself between the looming threat and the wolfwomen. As the wolf crept out from its woodland cover, it bared its teeth, its body coiled like a spring, fur on end, emitting a threatening rumble, evidently prepared to pounce.

“Run! Get out of here,” Wu Qingsong, not breaking eye contact with the creature, told the wolfwomen.

“But…”

“Now!” With a fervent cry, he lifted his sword and fearlessly lunged at the approaching beast.