Chapter 18: The Mighty

Baqi staunched the bleeding on his leg—truth be told, the wound was nothing of consequence. What had truly unnerved him was the look in Liphus’s eyes, the murderous intent that chilled him to the bone. Unless one stood opposite those eyes, one could not comprehend the terror Baqi felt then, the sense of being watched by a lurking ancient fiend, hidden in the mists, trembling to his very soul.

If the rescue mission failed, Liphus had said he’d bury Baqi beside the armored weasel-wolf. Baqi thought it might be more comfortable to end things himself.

Yan Sun was far calmer. Meeting the ever-mysterious Stranger C for the first time—the second-ranking half-demon on the merit list—he found the man’s actions both expected and unexpected, giving off a sense of uncanny familiarity.

Since he wasn’t the one being beaten, Yan Sun’s lack of Baqi’s terror was only natural. If anything, it seemed within reason. What was truly astonishing was that this half-demon, with such a fierce temperament and gaze, possessed such a refined, cultured appearance.

Like Niu Shan, Yan Sun was a “wild cub,” unsupported by any half-demon lineage. Thus, he prized the simplest orders, as did the silent captain of Team One and Chan Xi. Without roots, a person was like duckweed—a water bug could turn them into a boat; so, too, with half-demons. And Simple was a mighty wind.

The two quickly geared up and departed. Baqi took the lighting equipment and his broadsword, and after Yan Sun pointed the way, they slipped into the waterway, one after another.

In the reservoir, four remained: Stranger C—Liphus, Simple, Chan Xi, and the taciturn captain of Team One.

Simple sized up Liphus, noting not a scratch on him. He mused that the boy’s demonic power was growing, having used the power-hungry “Flooded Nation” ability and suffering only slight pallor.

“So, what now? Yan Sun’s gone to rescue your teammate. Who do we rely on to find the Weasel-Wolf King?”

Liphus slid his short dagger, Fang, back into its sheath at his waist, retorting, “You think Team Eighteen came here to sightsee?”

After the habitual jab, Liphus realized the timing was off and spoke seriously: “Finding the Weasel-Wolf King is easy. Just make some noise, and the cubs will swarm in—then we’ll know.”

With that, Liphus swung his blade, further hacking a weasel-wolf corpse. He turned to Chan Xi, “You’re a wind-type half-demon, right? Use your power to send the scent of blood as far through the nearby waterways as you can.”

Chan Xi didn’t understand why, but nodded instinctively, stirring her demon blood and channeling power. She had already acknowledged Liphus’s authority in the group.

Wiping blood from his blade, Liphus said to Simple, “When more weasel-wolves emerge from that waterway, we head in that direction. We’re sure to find the king.”

Before Simple could ask, Liphus turned to Team One’s captain, “Name, gift, specialty?”

The handsome, virile half-demon, as reticent as ever, replied succinctly, “Jing Xiucheng. Physical gift. Skilled in area attacks.”

Liphus nodded—he liked teammates who skipped the nonsense, and the ability was just right.

As they spoke, the sound of slithering echoed from all sides. The weasel-wolves came fast, proof of Chan Xi’s considerable power—since the area had been cleared, only a far-reaching scent could have summoned them so quickly.

“Prepare to move. These weasel-wolves aren’t just hunting and breeding in the capital—there’s more to discuss as we go.”

Swarms of juvenile weasel-wolves poured in from every waterway, each group no fewer than fifty, some nearly a hundred—just the vanguard, with many more behind.

“This way!”

Liphus pointed and shouted, “Jing Xiucheng!”

Team One’s captain, Jing Xiucheng, possessed the physical gift, his power named—Thunder God Incarnation.

“Thunder God Incarnation: Charge!”

Those four words were perfectly embodied in Jing Xiucheng. A genuine bolt of lightning crackled through the weasel-wolf horde, filling the air with the stench of scorched flesh and rising black smoke. Nearly two hundred juveniles were slaughtered in an instant.

Jing Xiucheng’s power emitted lightning from his body. Though it could only cling to his skin, unable to attack from afar, it was said that at the peak of his demon transformation he could become pure thunder—then, he’d be a walking cataclysm, striking down anyone he wished.

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Liphus hadn’t expected Jing Xiucheng’s attack style, his face astonished. Simple explained, “Jing Xiucheng’s family has only recently revived, and the ancestral records are long lost. He doesn’t even know which ancient beast his bloodline descends from—but anything tied to lightning is never to be trifled with.”

Liphus nodded, signaling the group forward.

Soon, they encountered a second wave of weasel-wolves, even more numerous. Liphus had Chan Xi act, wanting to gauge his new teammates’ strengths.

“Aeromancy: Rippled Scales!”

Chan Xi cried out, and above each weasel-wolf’s head, the air warped—fish-scale ripples shimmered, falling silently to sever every head cleanly.

“Thud, thud, thud…”

The bodies collapsed almost simultaneously.

To Liphus and the others, the ripples above the corpses seemed to reveal a blurred giant carp; with a flick of its tail, it vanished.

Chan Xi’s “Rippled Scales,” like Liphus’s “Flooded Nation,” consumed immense power. She didn’t mind, though—after steadying her breath, she turned and smiled at Simple, seeking praise.

Liphus, accustomed to such displays, laughed, “Not bad! Save your power; we’ll need it later.”

Simple followed Liphus emotionlessly, but as he passed Chan Xi, he remarked, “Good name for your ability.”

Unexpectedly, even the taciturn Jing Xiucheng addressed Chan Xi, “I’ve always wondered—are you deliberately dressing so old-fashioned for a girl?”

He pointed at her pencil skirt, but Chan Xi, lost in her own excitement, didn’t hear and went on her way.

Wave after wave of weasel-wolves appeared, prompting Liphus to limit Chan Xi and Jing Xiucheng’s power use, switching to martial arts and their demon artifacts for slaughter.

Ancient demon artifacts were rare—each unique, each extraordinarily powerful.

Modern artifacts were mostly crafted by artisans; with enough materials, they could be mass-produced, but none matched the ancient works in might.

Materials weren’t lacking—endless monsters provided a constant supply. The real issue was the secret forging methods, most of which were lost or held by the Boundary Marker and major half-demon houses.

Of course, Chan Xi and Jing Xiucheng, both scions of such houses, possessed artifacts. Chan Xi’s was a necklace—an uncommon support artifact, calming the mind and suppressing blood surges, reducing power consumption somewhat.

In truth, Chan Xi was almost artifact-less, relying on her innate power. But her “Ice Heart” necklace paired perfectly with her high-consumption aeromancy—a fine match.

Jing Xiucheng’s artifact was distinctly masculine: a pair of half-finger gauntlets, enabling him to project lightning a forearm’s length. Perfect for martial arts synergy.

Liphus couldn’t help but envy those with family backing; Simple, an ordinary person, shot him a glare.

Amidst all the bloodshed, Liphus began sharing his discoveries in the waterway with Simple.

He hadn’t mentioned these suspicions to Ma Mingming and the others—there was little point, and some he only realized later. Now, with Simple, the “Monster Encyclopedia,” personally down in the waterway, it would be a waste not to let him shine.

From the unusually large territory of the weasel-wolf pack, their sheer numbers, the horrifying scene in the “maternity pit,” to the mass-produced rank-ten weasel-wolves and their diverse powers—

After Liphus finished, even without witnessing it firsthand, Chan Xi and Jing Xiucheng looked constipated, and even the ever-unflappable Simple’s expression was grave.

For fifteen minutes, apart from the weasel-wolves’ screams and the odd noises from powers, the four exchanged nothing, each lost in thought, waiting for Simple’s conclusion.

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At last, Simple spoke cautiously, “First, since we entered the waterway, we’ve hunted at least a thousand juvenile weasel-wolves. By extrapolation, this pack must number well into five figures.”

He shared his analysis, then a provisional conclusion: “That means they need enormous amounts of food. Even if you count all the garbage and sludge in the waterway, if they were full, the capital would have collapsed by now. So where do they get food? If they stole grain like rats from homes, there’d have been a rodent extermination campaign—but that hasn’t happened, and breeding such numbers under the Boundary Marker’s nose is impossible… Unless they have a supply channel from outside the capital, or have long-stockpiled vast stores of food!”

Simple was clearly thinking aloud, falling deeper into his own reasoning.

“With so many, they have the base for mass-producing rank-tens—but monster bloodlines require actual blood meals to evolve… Large-scale hunting of humans is out of the question, and Liphus hasn’t seen many human remains… So where do the animals serving as brood-mothers and secondary blood meals come from…”

“The sight in the maternity pit was horrific, but it’s clear: these weasel-wolves must have a way to overcome reproductive barriers between species; mixing different bloods, or genes, would explain the diversity of abilities…”

“But… how is it all accomplished? Is the root of it in the Weasel-Wolf King?”

Simple trailed off, lost in his own confusion—let alone Liphus and the others.

“Liphus, best keep the king alive, or at least its corpse. I have a bad feeling that this is only just beginning.”

Liphus nodded gravely. He sensed Simple’s worry wasn’t about the pack itself, but something else—though what, Simple likely didn’t know either.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle sounded, as Jing Xiucheng fried the last nearby weasel-wolf.

“Shh! Don’t move.”

Chan Xi abruptly urged the others to be still, stepping forward to peer toward a nearby waterway junction.

“The air is moving.”

She stretched out her hand, sending a gust ahead as she had with the blood scent.

“There’s resistance—the farther forward, the greater!”

Chan Xi turned back, her face brightening, “I think we’re close. I sense a large space up ahead.”

“Very large.”

Though not a sensory type, Chan Xi’s wind powers made her sensitive to air shifts—she detected the increasing airflow with keen precision.

Liphus and Simple exchanged glances.

“Keep movements light. If we encounter juveniles, don’t draw blood, don’t use powers—don’t expose ourselves too soon. Let’s see what’s ahead.”

Cautiously, the four advanced. Whenever they met new weasel-wolves, Liphus and Simple dispatched them by martial arts alone, breaking their necks without a drop of blood.

Chan Xi and Jing Xiucheng, both reliant on their abilities, had little martial training and didn’t act. Neither knew Simple, ostensibly an ordinary person, was adept at martial arts—of a high rank, no less. Chan Xi was especially astonished, her eyes nearly glowing.

But she didn’t know the greatest shock—or horror—lay ahead.

Twenty minutes later, the four witnessed a scene that made their skin crawl.