Chapter Fifty-One: The Greedy Wolf Advances

Bodies unfurled, two figures leapt and spun, entwined in a deadly dance, while the remaining two men in black could only circle anxiously at the edge. Both were in the early stages of the fifth tier and could no longer intervene, especially since one of them was already half-crippled.

Explosions rang out continuously, punctuated by an occasional muffled groan. Suddenly, the two combatants broke apart. Their weapons trembled in their hands, blood dripping steadily to the ground. Each bore a distinct palm print upon their chest—Cloud Rider Wind's chest was marked by a single, shallow indentation, while the man in black bore a cluster of clear, vivid palm marks.

With a splutter, Cloud Rider Wind spat out a mouthful of blood, bracing himself against the ground with his heavy sword. His left hand was swollen, his right cracked and bleeding profusely. His black battle attire hung from him in tatters, barely more than rags.

They stared at each other, unmoving. As long as neither moved, the remaining men in black dared not interfere, awaiting the outcome of their leader's confrontation with Cloud Rider Wind.

The leader of the men in black fixed his gaze on Cloud Rider Wind, his eyes wide and bloodshot as copper bells. His face gradually turned purple until, at last, he too spat out a mouthful of pitch-black blood, streaked with fragments of his shattered organs.

"Boss, what's wrong? Quick, take an elixir!" one of his men rushed to support him.

Coughing violently, blood and bits of broken viscera spilled from his lips. Outwardly, he seemed unharmed, but the protracted struggle had forced him into close combat; the final blow had shattered his organs entirely, leaving him beyond saving, death imminent.

Between ragged breaths, the dying man in black gasped, "You... perhaps you can escape with your lives. Don't come back..."

Cloud Rider Wind leaned on his heavy sword, utterly still, his breath coming in harsh gasps. For the first time, his body had truly been gravely injured. Though his Life-Birth Chronicle surged with all its might, the healing was slow—bones and internal organs, only faintly strengthened by the Imperial Purple Heart Technique, recovered far more slowly than flesh and skin.

With the three men in black huddled together, Cloud Rider Wind could only watch, powerless to finish them off.

Blood continued to flow as the man's breathing grew weaker and finally ceased altogether.

The two survivors lifted their eyes to Cloud Rider Wind. With a long howl, the uninjured one shouted, "Your life is mine!" Sword pointed, the blade suddenly blazed with fierce red light as he unleashed his technique, intent on slaying Cloud Rider Wind while he was gravely wounded.

Cloud Rider Wind, though swaying on his feet, remained unflinchingly calm—the more critical the moment, the more composed he became.

As the crimson blade closed in, about to pierce his body, Cloud Rider Wind's eyes narrowed. In a flash, a shimmering sword stroke split both the man in black and his glowing sword cleanly in two.

The broken sword tip flew off, while the remainder, carried by momentum, lodged itself in Cloud Rider Wind's arm. He channeled the Imperial Purple Heart Technique with all his strength, turning his wounded limb to amethyst crystal and blocking the broken blade.

From the beginning to the end, the battle lasted only an instant. As darkness threatened to overtake his vision, Cloud Rider Wind saw the one-armed, crippled man in black turn and flee in terror.

Cloud Rider Wind's vision blurred, his head spinning. He sank slowly to the ground, bracing himself with his sword, paying no mind to the fleeing foe, focusing entirely on healing his terrible wounds.

Yet Cloud Rider Wind failed to notice that, as the man in black fled, the little Greedy Wolf, who had been silent atop the tree, slid down the trunk and swiftly followed after him.

Seated cross-legged beside the dying embers, silver mist coiled gently around Cloud Rider Wind, visible to the naked eye. His wounds swiftly sprouted new flesh, writhing and knitting together at an astonishing rate.

Internal injuries, however, were far more severe. Had one looked within, they would have seen bruised clots slowly dissolving, as tides of energy washed through again and again, breaking them up and carrying them away. Swollen, cracked organs were slowly, doggedly regaining vitality.

Time slipped by unnoticed. Soon, the little Greedy Wolf, bloodied and limping, returned from its pursuit, a ghastly wound on its small body exposing white bone.

Seeing Cloud Rider Wind still deep in meditation, the little wolf gave a soft whine, curled itself up, and, wincing from the pain in its back, bared its teeth and settled protectively by his side, keeping watch for danger with vigilant eyes.

When his external wounds had fully healed, Cloud Rider Wind slowly opened his eyes. The sight of the little Greedy Wolf, curled up nearby, its ghastly wound stabbing at his heart, brought a surge of deep emotion he had never felt before.

It has been said that the bond with a beast is the purest, most genuine of all. At that moment, Cloud Rider Wind understood this truth profoundly.

He gathered the small wolf into his arms, meeting its bright, intelligent gaze, and was moved to the core.

Enveloping the little wolf in a haze of life energy, he found, to his surprise, that the Life-Birth Chronicle, so effective on himself, had only minimal effect on the wolf.

Light swirled in waves, and the wound began its slow, painstaking healing. At least it responded, if only a little—Cloud Rider Wind redoubled his efforts, pouring torrents of energy into the little wolf, even drawing the energy of heaven and earth from the surrounding space.

The wolf's tiny body was like a bottomless pit, endlessly devouring the energy he sent. The wound writhed more vigorously, finally sprouting minute, barely visible buds of new flesh.

Sweat beaded on Cloud Rider Wind’s brow. The intense exertion made even his own meridians strain and ache.

After a moment’s thought, he took a fourth-tier crystal core from his spatial pouch. The little wolf swallowed it in one gulp, let out a satisfied whimper, and settled down to quietly heal.

The crystal core dissolved quickly within, its energy disappearing into some unknown place.

Suddenly, the wolf lifted its head to the sky. Energy surged within, and a clear, audible crack sounded from its body, as though some mysterious shackle had been broken.

It stood, shook itself, and instantly its silvery fur was gleaming anew. Blood scabs fell away in flakes, and the wound began to heal ten times faster, muscle writhing and knitting closed.

Cloud Rider Wind's heart skipped a beat—this was a sign of advancement. Each time the little wolf advanced, it would fall into a deep sleep, needing to digest the massive influx of energy from the crystal core. Though startled, he did not stop channeling life energy, for the wound was still healing and the transfer of power could not be interrupted.

Strangely, this time, even after the wound had fully closed, the little Greedy Wolf did not fall into its customary slumber. Perplexed, Cloud Rider Wind wondered at the difference. The only change was his constant, direct support with life energy throughout the process. Perhaps, in the past, the wolf had slept only because it lacked that special guidance.

With this in mind, Cloud Rider Wind maintained the flow of energy, suppressing his own discomfort as he worked the Imperial Purple Heart Technique, drawing life force from heaven and earth to restore his own fighting spirit while continuing to heal his companion.

Within the wolf, a crystal-clear core began to coalesce, emitting a faint glow that lit its entire mind. Its silvery fur grew brighter still. To Cloud Rider Wind’s astonishment, the wolf’s body swelled to over a meter tall, then slowly shrank back to its original, petite form—a miniature wolf once more.

The little Greedy Wolf, unconcerned by Cloud Rider Wind’s amazement, turned and licked his hand, still warm with the energy transfer.

Feeling the hot tongue on his skin, Cloud Rider Wind abruptly understood. Grabbing the little wolf, he scolded, “So you could always grow bigger! If not for this accident, would you have let me worry endlessly, thinking you’d never grow up for some mysterious reason?”

The little wolf whimpered twice and curled up wordlessly at his feet, dozing off on his lap.

Shaking his head, Cloud Rider Wind flicked a few sparks to burn the corpses of the men in black. A gust of wind scattered the ashes and doused the fire, plunging the forest into darkness, with only a faint scent of charred flesh drifting through the trees.

He gathered the little wolf, climbed into a tall tree, and quietly resumed healing his internal injuries. Such wounds could not be cured in a day or a night; at the very least, it would take a full day of focused effort.

The forest night was anything but peaceful, yet around Cloud Rider Wind, an unexpected calm prevailed.

When dawn’s first pale light crept up in the east, his internal injuries were nearly healed—though not yet fully restored, he was fit for daily activity.

Still, Cloud Rider Wind had no intention of entering the territory of fifth-tier magical beasts before he was fully healed. That would be courting death, not tempering himself.

Magical beasts were formidable by nature, their fighting power far surpassing human warriors of the same tier—he could not afford to be careless.