VIP Chapter 145: The Wolf King

The three members of the Wolf Squad stood in a formation resembling the Chinese character for "eight," their green, eerie eyes coldly fixed on Tietou and Chen Tianfeng's group. They showed no haste to attack, merely baring their fangs and emitting low, whimpering growls from their throats.

All of them were rural folk, accustomed to raising dogs at home, so the sound was familiar—a warning sign before an assault.

The several girls surrounded by the eight henchmen were already pale with fear. None had ever seen a werewolf except on television, and their terrifying appearances left the girls trembling and weak-kneed.

Only Shaniu, perhaps exhausted from playing, had lost her usual daytime mischief and wildness; she lay drowsily in Jiayan’s arms.

This made the other girls envious—there was a certain advantage to being simple-minded: no matter the situation, fear never took hold.

The three Wolf Squad disciples seemed to grow impatient with the stalemate. With a long howl, they slowly advanced.

Tietou and Chen Tianfeng exchanged glances, each seeing the fear and unyielding fighting spirit reflected in the other's eyes.

"Kill!" they shouted in unison, bracing themselves as they charged at the enemy. At the same moment, the three werewolves lunged forward, engaging Tietou and his five comrades in battle.

Each of the six held a wooden stick picked up at random. Though as thick as an arm, these sticks proved largely ineffective.

These werewolves possessed tremendous resilience, their tough, thick-skinned bodies making it difficult for ordinary sticks to inflict harm.

One werewolf rushed forward, claws tearing into Chen Tianfeng’s thigh. Seizing the moment as he faltered, the beast tried to dash past him. Chen Tianfeng roared and hooked the enemy’s ankle with a foot, tripping him to the ground. He then pounced, tightly choking the creature’s neck.

At the same time, two of the henchmen came to assist, pinning the werewolf’s arms on either side. Without claws or fangs, no beast could pose much of a threat.

But this left Tietou and the remaining two brothers to face two werewolves alone, increasing their pressure. Without a numerical advantage, the werewolves’ combat prowess was formidable.

One henchman raised his stick and struck a werewolf’s head, the thick club snapping on impact. The beast merely hesitated briefly before roaring and pouncing, knocking the man to the ground. Its jaws flashed sharp white fangs, aiming for the henchman’s throat.

Tietou’s stick was also broken. Working with another henchman, he grabbed a werewolf’s thigh and pushed him to the ground, ready to mount and pummel him. But seeing his brother in danger, he acted without hesitation. With a powerful push off the ground, he flew like a cannonball, his bald head smashing into the enemy’s lower back.

The impact was effective—the werewolf rolled several times, unable to rise, face pale and body twitching violently.

Tietou’s heart leapt with hope; just as he prepared to shout a warning, a henchman screamed behind him, “Tietou, watch out!”

A sharp pain struck the back of his neck. The werewolf he had just toppled had recovered and leapt behind him, its fangs sinking deep into his neck, piercing the carotid artery.

“Tietou!” Chen Tianfeng and the others panicked and rushed forward, striking the werewolf with fists and feet. But it was futile; the beast refused to release its grip, its jaws closing tighter.

In desperation, Chen Tianfeng thrust two fingers into the werewolf’s eyes. The beast howled in agony and finally loosened its hold on Tietou’s neck.

Tietou collapsed, clutching his neck where four bleeding wounds gushed blood. His eyes grew unfocused as he fell to the ground.

Chen Tianfeng’s fingers continued to gouge the werewolf’s eyes. The beast writhed in pain, claws flailing wildly across Chen’s chest, tearing open flesh and exposing entrails. Yet Chen refused to relent, gripping the werewolf’s shoulder with one hand while destroying its eyeballs with the other.

“Tianfeng, let go!” the henchmen cried out, tears streaming from red-rimmed eyes. They wanted to help but had to contend with the remaining werewolf and couldn’t leave their posts.

The girls, horrified by the brutal scene, burst into tears. Yuer, tears flowing, shouted at the eight henchmen holding hands nearby, “Why aren’t you helping?!”

All eight sobbed openly, lips bleeding from biting themselves, but their hands remained tightly clasped. One cried out, “We can’t let go! Brother Tietou told us we’re the last line—we can’t break formation!”

Unable to watch any longer, the girls sat on the ground, wailing loudly. Guan Ling cursed fiercely, “Xiao Xuan, where are you?!”

With her shout, a flame suddenly flickered from the grass beneath her, igniting an area about the size of a pot lid.

The injured but still mobile werewolves recoiled in terror, eyes wide as they scrambled backward.

Guan Ling stared at her hands in surprise, unable to understand how the fire had appeared. She tried to summon more flames, but none came.

Still, the fire burning near the girls created a dangerous barrier—they feared if it spread, it might burn them before harming the enemy. Everyone stepped back cautiously.

Suddenly, Xiaoyuer pressed her hand to the ground. Within two seconds, the fire was extinguished, replaced by a small pool of water about the same size as the burned patch—just enough to douse the flames.

This strange display left the others stunned. Could this be the legendary supernatural power?

Before they could ponder further, a shadow streaked overhead. Two henchmen holding hands screamed as they fell, their severed hands tightly clasped on the ground.

A tall, muscular werewolf now stood before them, eyes a chilling green, fangs bared, claws dripping fresh blood as he slowly advanced toward the girls.

The two wounded henchmen had passed out from pain; the remaining six quickly formed a line, shielding the girls.

One trembled, whispering, “That’s the Wolf King. Everyone be careful!” Legs shaking, the henchmen readied themselves for a desperate fight.

The Wolf King’s green eyes looked down with disdain. Lowering his body, he suddenly sprang forward, using both hands and feet to rush the group.

A scream pierced the air as one henchman was violently torn in half, blood splattering his comrades.

The others turned in shock to see the Wolf King gripping one man, standing atop a dirt cliff, eyes full of contempt.

Several henchmen had already wet their pants, slowly crawling backward. Their fear was understandable—the Wolf King’s strength was terrifying, the gap between them immense. No matter their numbers, fighting him was a death sentence.