Yang Yin Long's breath came out in steady, measured bursts. His robes were torn, his arm bleeding from shallow claw marks, but his eyes—those remained sharp, calculating.
Before him, the forest trembled with snarls and glowing eyes.
Dozens of wolves circled in a slow, tightening ring. The air itself rippled with wind qi, sharp enough to flay bark from trees.
The Wind Fang Wolf King, towering and silver-furred, raised its head to the clouds and howled. The sound split the air like a blade, and the pack surged forward.
Yang Yin Long moved first.
He drew a deep breath, pressed his fingers into a seal, and his late-stage magical artifact, the Golden Spirit Sword, flew into the air. The sword blazed with golden light, buzzing with killing intent.
> "Go."
The sword howled through the forest like a golden comet. The first wolf that lunged forward was sliced clean through the neck before it even realized what had happened.
Then, without slowing, the sword twisted midair, its edge turning impossibly sharp under the infusion of his qi. It curved backward like a reaper's scythe and tore through two more wolves in a single sweep.
Three corpses hit the ground.
The pack faltered, but only for a moment. One of the late-stage wolves leapt forward, its fangs glowing with spiritual light as it intercepted the flying sword. The wolf's wind qi clashed with the sword's golden metal aura, sparks scattering across the undergrowth.
Yang Yin Long's lips tightened.
> "You want to stop that?"
He poured more mana into the sword. The Golden Spirit Sword screamed through the air like thunder and split into two afterimages, striking at impossible angles. The beast dodged one, but not the second—the blade carved across its side, leaving a deep, bloody gash before it was forced back by the Wolf King's roar.
The pack shifted formation. The Wolf King's eyes blazed with intelligence—it pinned the Golden Spirit Sword under a burst of condensed wind qi, a spiral of cutting air that locked the weapon down.
"Damn it!"
Yang Yin Long's expression darkened. He could feel the resistance through the spiritual link; the sword was trapped. At the same time, the lesser wolves lunged at him.
He thrust his hands forward.
Three defensive artifacts shot out from his storage bag—his own handmade prototypes from early refining experiments.
The Turtle Shield, earthy-green and steady, expanded to the size of a door.
The Jade Shield, gleaming white, spun around him like a guardian spirit.
And above his head, a Water Spirit Pearl released ripples of blue light.
He slapped his palms together, forming a seal.
"Water Spirit Curtain!"
Water surged from the pearl, forming a glimmering dome that wrapped around him in rippling layers. It shimmered faintly, a perfect blend of flowing qi and pressure resistance.
The wolves struck.
The first wave slammed into the barrier, sending ripples racing across its surface. Claws screeched against water qi, bursts of steam hissing where wind met liquid.
Yang Yin Long's knees bent under the pressure, but the curtain held.
"Good… it can handle at least one or two peak-grade strikes," he muttered, already calculating mana expenditure. "But not for long."
He couldn't stay still forever. He needed to fight back.
A spark flared in his right palm—Flame Whip. The fire condensed into a thin line of searing red light. He lashed outward through the barrier. The whip cut into one wolf's flank, searing fur but not breaking flesh.
The beast only snarled, angrier than before.
He switched tactics—Metal Spirit Palm.
Golden energy surged across his forearm, solidifying into a glowing handprint that slammed outward through the watery dome. It struck another wolf across the jaw, throwing it back several meters, but not killing it.
"Tch. Not enough penetration."
The wolves began coordinating—their movements suddenly too orderly to be natural. The Wolf King's aura pulsed, controlling the rhythm of the attack. Two beasts hit the water curtain simultaneously; a third dove low, clawing at the base of his shield.
The water barrier shuddered.
Yang Yin Long cursed, forcing more mana through the pearl. The curtain brightened again—but his core ached from the strain.
"These bastards aren't just beasts—they're soldiers!"
Another impact. His jade shield spun to intercept a pouncing wolf. A flash of claws, a grind of metal, and the shield cracked slightly before righting itself.
He didn't have time to think.
"Fine, then we test something new."
He pressed his palms together, focusing both his Metal Spirit Palm and Fireball Technique simultaneously—two contradictory elements colliding. His hand shook violently as he tried to merge them.
He intended only to heat the metal palm—to forge a burning strike. But instead, the energy spiraled out of control, compressing instead of merging.
"Not good—"
He thrust his hand outward just as another wolf crashed through the curtain.
Boom!
A deafening explosion sent the beast flying backward. The wolf's skull burst apart in a wave of fire and molten qi, black blood splattering across the trees. The shockwave rattled Yang Yin Long's bones.
He stared at his hand, trembling and burned.
"That… was not what I intended."
The surviving wolves hesitated, startled by the sudden blast. Steam rose from the shattered corpse, the scent of scorched fur filling the air.
Yang Yin Long gritted his teeth and grinned bitterly.
"An accident that works is still a technique."
The next moment, another pair of wolves—both 8th stage—charged together, fangs glinting with blue light.
He inhaled, centering his focus. This time, he refined the control—guiding the flame rather than letting it explode.
The Golden Spirit Palm formed again, but as he merged the Fireball, the heat compressed perfectly. The metallic glow deepened into a molten red-gold. The air whistled sharply as he thrust forward.
Hsssss—!
The fiery hand shot through the water curtain, vaporizing steam in its wake, and struck one wolf straight in the face. Its skull didn't explode—
It melted.
Flesh and bone liquefied as the beast collapsed with a muffled yelp. The second 8th-stage wolf recoiled in horror, its hackles raised, whimpering for the first time.
Yang Yin Long exhaled.
"So that's it… compression and merge. A Flaming Metal Palm."
But the moment of triumph was brief.
A roar like thunder split the air.
The Wolf King had finally moved.
Wind qi coiled around its fangs, creating a vortex that hummed with deadly sharpness. It snapped its jaws—and Yang Yin Long's link to his Golden Spirit Sword vanished in an instant.
He coughed blood.
The weapon, his sect-earned treasure, fell to the ground—cracked down the middle, its spiritual light extinguished.
The Wolf King tossed the broken sword aside and glared at him. Its aura swelled—pure, condensed killing intent. The air screamed with pressure.
Yang Yin Long staggered back, his vision swimming. Every remaining wolf was circling him now—the pack converging for the final strike.
He was out of options. His shields were weakening, his artifacts shaking.
And yet… he smiled faintly.
"Cornered rabbit, cornered tiger—it's the same. One still bites."
He planted his feet, raising his trembling palms once more, flames and metal qi swirling violently in his hands.
The Wolf King's howl split the night, and the entire pack lunged.
The air filled with claws, wind, and the smell of death.
Yang Yin Long roared, thrusting his burning palms forward—
And the forest swallowed them all in chaos.
---
End of Chapter 9.