When Ben's cloak billowed to its limit and the gale that had swept everyone along came to a sudden halt, Gwof and the others were gently placed onto a hard stone surface as if by an invisible hand.
The touch was cold and smooth, possessing the jade-like warmth of polished stone, yet it was heavier than jade, steadily supporting the weight of everyone.
Everyone was still dazed, their steps as unsteady as if they were treading on cotton. Their heads felt as though they were stuffed with water-soaked cotton, buzzing incessantly, and even their vision was obscured by a layer of mist.
The huge bundle on Little Bottle's back wobbled, its heavy weight causing him to stagger and lean to the side. He quickly reached out to steady the corner of the bundle, his eyes half-open and half-closed. His eyelashes were still flecked with fine sand whipped up during the teleportation; clearly, he hadn't yet recovered from the world-spinning dizziness.
The Witch's black robe, which had been puffed up by the gale, suddenly deflated, clinging to her body and outlining her thin silhouette. She raised a hand to press down on the brim of her hat, burying most of her face in shadow. Only her exposed fingertips trembled slightly, like withered leaves in a cold wind, betraying her irrepressible discomfort.
Ben himself was holding his forehead, his knuckles white from the force. He gasped for breath, his chest rising and falling like a small hill. The edges of his cloak were still glowing faintly, the white light on the patches like dying embers, slowly fading away.
Gwof was the first to regain some of his senses. He closed his eyes, then slowly opened them. The moisture on his eyelashes was dispersed by the wind, and his vision gradually came into focus.
What came into view was a scene both familiar and strange—surrounded by rows upon rows of tall buildings, though most of the walls were made of polished logs. Some were painted off-white, while others retained the natural color of the wood, their textures clearly visible.
Window frames were covered with ivy and morning glories, and even the rooftops were planted with potted greenery. There were sunflowers facing the sun and spider plants hanging down like green waterfalls.
Novel traffic lights hung above the road. When the red light was on, it was a tightly closed rose; when the green light lit up, layers of petals bloomed, their colors as vivid as if they had just been plucked from a branch. Even the yellow light was a half-open bud.
Animals in various styles of clothing walked the streets. A Mr. Wolf wore a well-pressed suit, his tie knotted meticulously, as he hurried along with a briefcase in hand.
A Mrs. Rabbit pushed a stroller, where a little bunny was gnawing on a carrot to grind its teeth.
Squirrels clutched pine cones, leaping nimbly between tree-shaped streetlights, their claws clicking lightly against the protrusions on the poles... "Have I returned to the real world?"
Gwof murmured dizzily, his voice still a bit floaty.
The dizziness in his head hadn't fully dissipated. The steel and concrete buildings of the human world overlapped with the scene before him in his mind, leaving him somewhat dazed.
He remembered that the tall buildings in the human world were cold and hard, their glass curtain walls reflecting piercing light. But the wooden buildings here exuded a warm vitality, and even the air carried a fresh fragrance of pine resin and locust flowers. One breath made his lungs feel warm.
Noisy sounds reached his ears—the panicked 'awoo' and 'baa' of animals, the honking of vehicles—those horns were interesting, mimicking animal calls like 'moo' and 'woof,' coarse yet familiar. In the distance, someone was shouting at the top of their lungs, "It's a human! It's really a human!"
It was as chaotic as a vegetable market on a fair day, so noisy it made his ears throb.
Just then, his hem was gently tugged, the force as light as a leaf landing on it.
Gwof instinctively looked down; it was Liya.
The little girl's pink dress was a bit messy from the wind, with a few blades of grass clinging to the hem. Her hair had also come loose in several strands, sticking to her sweaty cheeks.
She was rubbing her eyes with her small hands, her gaze blurry as if covered by mist. Her little face was as white as paper, and her lips moved without sound, revealing only a wronged expression. Her eyes were red, like a small bird dazed by a gale, making one feel deeply for her.
Seeing Liya like this, Gwof's mind felt as if it had been doused with ice water. With a 'buzz,' all the daze and dizziness vanished instantly.
Wait, this isn't right.
He jerked his head up, his sharp gaze sweeping over the stone beneath his feet. This wasn't ordinary stone. It felt cold yet delicate, its surface polished smooth as jade by time. He could vaguely see carved patterns—the signature mane patterns of the Wolf King.
This was the shoulder of The Statue of the Wolf King. The cold sensation traveled through his thin soles, carrying a familiar weight and majesty, like a warm palm steadily holding him up.
The fountain in the center of the distant Square was currently spraying water. The spout was a stone-carved moon, its curved crescent edges etched with exquisite patterns. Clear spring water gushed from the hollow of the moon like a silver ribbon, the splashing droplets glistening in the sunlight and refracting into a rainbow.
"I've brought them back to the kingdom."
Gwof's heart jolted as if a hand had suddenly gripped it. The daze from before completely evaporated.
This wasn't his world from his previous life; it was the kingdom founded by Big Brother Wolf—the Animal Kingdom.
He had merely been carried through the dimensional barriers by the power of the cloak and then experienced that world-spinning teleportation. For a moment, he was so confused he almost failed to recognize this rapidly changing place—the low houses in his memory had become high-rises, the small paths had been paved into smooth roads, and even the fountain had a new look.
Just then, a faint but dense buzzing sound came from the distance, like someone shaking a jar full of iron filings near his ear. The sound drew closer, gradually picking up the sharp screech of metal gears grinding against wood—creak, creak—like countless beetles vibrating their wings as they swarmed over, making the very air tremble.
Every hair on Gwof's body stood on end instantly, as if pricked by needles. He jerked his head up to look.
He saw several wooden airplanes diving toward The Statue in echelon formation. Their wings were made of extremely thin, lightweight sycamore wood, their edges polished as smooth as mirrors, glinting with an amber light in the sun.
The kingdom's emblem was printed on both sides of the wings—a lush, leafy tree with a trunk so thick it would take several people to encircle it, its branches stretching out to blot out the sky. It swayed slightly in the air currents but remained shiny and exceptionally eye-catching.
The sound of the rotating propellers grew louder. Within the whistling wind was the sharp whine of wood friction, like countless hornets being provoked, vibrating their wings madly in his ears. It made his eardrums go numb, and even The Statue beneath his feet seemed to tremble slightly.
The planes came fast and hard, almost skimming over the rooftops of the nearby high-rises.
The gale whipped up by the propellers sent sycamore leaves and dandelion seeds dancing everywhere like a sudden green storm. They were clearly targeting these 'uninvited guests' who had suddenly appeared on the shoulder of The Statue of the Wolf King.
The glass of the cockpits reflected the piercing light. He could vaguely see figures in deep blue uniforms inside—gripping the control sticks tightly, their wide eyes staring warily at them through the glass. From their posture, with wings tilted low, it seemed they were ready to dive down at any moment and knock them off The Statue with their landing gear.
Gwof looked at the roaring planes, his head buzzing as if struck by a heavy hammer. His first reaction was actually one of bewilderment.
Airplanes?
The Animal Kingdom actually has airplanes now?
And they're these propeller-driven things?
The wooden fuselages gleamed in the sun, and the way the wings sliced through the air was indeed quite majestic.
Then came an overwhelming shock, washing over his heart like a tide.
He remembered that once, while chatting with Fox Aji, he had mentioned a few things—airplanes that conquer the sky.
But at the time, it was just a casual remark.
That fellow Fox Aji actually managed to create these things that 'conquer the sky'!
And he'd done such a proper job of it; even the propellers looked the part, and the wind they kicked up was even louder than he'd described.
But after the shock, a more urgent panic flared up like a wildfire—
How am I supposed to get them to stop!
Gwof instinctively took a step forward. The cold, hard surface of The Statue beneath his feet helped him regain some grounding.
He wanted to raise his hand and spread his fingers to show he meant no harm, but as soon as he lifted his arm, he saw the lead plane tilt sharply. Its wing almost grazed the tip of his nose as it zoomed past, the resulting gale sending his hair flying wildly.
Before he could steady himself, the other planes had quickly adjusted their formation, circling and closing in like a flock of raptors discovering prey.
What made his heart tighten even more was a 'click' from the side of each plane as things resembling machine guns poked out—certainly not made of iron, they looked like they were made of hardwood. The dark muzzles were pointed straight at them. Though he didn't know their lethality, the posture exuded total deterrence.
He quickly scanned the people around him: Liya was still dizzily clutching his hem, her little face buried in his arm, the roar of the planes not even making her look up;
Little Bottle stood steadily with his 'mountain of a bundle,' but the bundle blocked most of his view, making it hard to even dodge;
Lettuce's fingers were white as she gripped her skirt, her eyes full of terror, clearly frightened by this display;
The Witch, though still keeping her head down, had the sleeves of her black robe slightly tensed; he could tell she was also on guard... If the planes really opened fire or dived into them, forget explaining who he was—this group of theirs would likely fall from the sixty-foot-high Statue onto the stone slabs of the Square. The mere thought made his bones ache.
Gwof never expected that when he descended upon the Animal Kingdom again, it would be in this capacity—as an 'uninvited guest' being cornered by his own country's patrol planes as an intruder.
The cold touch of The Statue beneath his feet crawled up through his soles, making his toes curl from the chill.
The animals in the distant Square were still crying out in alarm. The buzzing of their discussions was like a disturbed hornet's nest. Someone was shouting "Catch them!" and another was yelling "Quick, notify the Wolf King!"
The roar of the planes grew closer, making his eardrums throb... Inside the cockpit of one plane sat a Wolf Soldier in a blue uniform.
A silver-gray bow tie was tied at the collar of his uniform. From under the brim of his hat, two upright wolf ears poked out. His fur was dark gray, with the tips of his ears slightly blackened.
He was focused entirely on the control stick, his knuckles white from the effort. His tail was pressed tightly against the side of the seat, tensing slightly with the turbulence of the flight—this was his first time on a combat mission, and the sweat on his palms had soaked the wood grain of the control stick.
His heart was filled with immense excitement, like a ball of burning fire, mixed with a surge of indomitable spirit.
The roar of the engine exploded in his ears like countless wild wolves howling on the plains, making his blood boil in sync.
He stared fixedly at The Statue ahead, his gaze as sharp as an eagle's, as if he might pounce and bite at any second.
He got up before dawn every day to train, practicing in the simulator until his claws went numb and vomiting until he was dizzy during high-altitude sharp turns. What was it all for?
Wasn't it for this moment, to pilot a plane and defend the kingdom?
Whenever he was so exhausted he couldn't get off the ground, he would remember the Wolf King's words: "A wolf's duty is to protect."
These words were like a branding iron, seared into his heart.
His thoughts suddenly drifted back to the past, to his days in the Anvil Kingdom.
Back then, he was just a scrawny stray dog, wandering with a group of refugees. He had scavenged moldy bread from ruins and huddled in a ball in the freezing snow. When he was on the verge of starving to death, His Highness Gwof had reached out a hand.
That hand wasn't large, but it carried a warm strength. It handed over half a piece of warm roasted meat, and then a hand patted his head, saying: "Come back to the kingdom with me. There's food there, a place to stay, and a place where you can become strong."
At this thought, the Wolf Soldier's eyes became even more solemn. The silhouettes of the people on The Statue were reflected in his pupils like steel balls tempered in ice.
His heart was screaming: No matter who the opponent is this time—whether a spy sent by an enemy nation, a wizard from who-knows-where, or even a fire-breathing dragon—he must charge forward and fight!
Even if the plane is smashed to pieces, he must use his teeth to crush the enemy's bones!
The plane drew closer and closer to The Statue. The wind from the propellers blew the dust on The Statue in all directions.
Gray Tooth narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the figure standing at the very front—
That Boy... Gray Tooth's pupils contracted violently, like two hearts struck by thunder, suddenly shrinking to the size of needle points.
In that instant, the instrument panel in the cockpit, the clouds outside the window, and even the roar in his ears disappeared. In his world, only that familiar yet strange figure on The Statue remained.
He instinctively let go of the control stick, his right hand frozen in mid-air, his knuckles still held in a tensed position.
The plane immediately lost its balance, swaying slightly like a leaf caught in a gale. Its left wing almost grazed the right wing of the plane next to it, causing that plane's pilot to let out a short cry of alarm and pull up sharply.
"His... His Highness Gwof?"
His mouth felt as if it had been rubbed with sandpaper. His muttered words were trembling and carried an unbelievable raspiness, like a stream frozen in midwinter suddenly meeting the warm sun; the ice layer cracked with a'snap,' finally allowing a warm current to flow.
He was all too familiar with this appearance.
It was this stance, this slight furrow of the brow when looking up, even the movement of raising a hand to brush back hair messed up by the wind—it was exactly the same as the youth who had reached out to him in the ruins of the Anvil Kingdom all those years ago.
Back then, he was so hungry he was nothing but skin and bones, lying in a pile of broken bricks waiting to die. It was this hand that had handed over half a piece of fragrant roasted wild boar meat. The warmth of the palm had transferred through the meat, so hot it made his tears flow.
At this thought, Gray Tooth's tail, hidden under his uniform, began to wag uncontrollably. At first, it was just a slight quiver, but then it became like a long-suppressed spring, joyfully swaying left and right, thumping against the back of the seat with a 'thud thud' sound.
This was absolutely forbidden during normal times, but at this moment, he couldn't care about anything else.
He slammed on the deceleration pedal, the iron plate beneath his foot letting out a crisp 'click.'
The propeller's rotation speed slowed instantly. The buzzing sound changed from a frantic roar to a gentle hum. The plane, like a tamed giant bird, circled slowly around The Statue. The wind it carried also became gentle, no longer the fierce force that wanted to overturn everything, but instead lightly brushing past the figure on The Statue as if carefully saying hello.
The communicator in the cockpit was still crackling with static, and his companion's voice came through in a frantic yell:
"Gray Tooth! Have you lost your mind? Why have you stopped?! Fire a warning shot, now!"
But the Wolf Soldier called "Gray Tooth" could hear nothing else.
His ears were pressed tight against his scalp, all his attention focused on those eyes—he stared fixedly at that figure, his eyes suddenly burning as hot liquid nearly burst through his eyelids.
The hot blood that had just been burning in his chest had now turned into a scalding tide, clogging his throat and making even his breathing carry a sobbing pain.
It was him.
It really was His Highness Gwof.
The Highness who had given him hope to live in the ruins of the Anvil Kingdom, the Highness he had etched into his bones and sworn to protect with his life, the Highness everyone thought would never return... has returned.
He grabbed the communicator, his fingers somewhat unresponsive due to excitement. He had to press it several times before aiming it at the microphone, his voice carrying a sob but sounding exceptionally firm:
"Everyone stop! Do not fire! It's... His Highness Gwof has returned!"
His voice spread through the cockpits of all the planes via radio waves, like a stone dropped into a lake, instantly causing the originally tense air to explode into a frenzy.
But Gray Tooth could no longer care about his companions' reactions. He gripped the control stick again, slowly lowering his altitude until the plane was almost level with the shoulder of The Statue.
He took off his hat, revealing his two furry wolf ears, and bowed deeply toward that figure, his tail wagging behind him like a flower in full bloom.
He's home.
His Highness has finally come home.