Chapter 82: The Nameless Dancer

The young werewolf warriors’ blood surged with zeal as they charged into the forest behind their leader.

Brudo bounded through the woodland like streaks of lightning, quickly leaving other werewolves far behind. The werewolf Viscount was unfazed – as the mightiest warrior within the entire territory, he always considered himself to need no bodyguards,

Yet after running several kilometers, a heavy ominous mist gathered in Brudo’s heart.

This human had left behind no trace of scent, indicating well-prepared adversary had adopted special potions specifically against werewolves – a common ploy of sly humans during ambushes; this might be effective on common warriors, yet practically useless before a Dark Warlord, for a Warlord would quickly sense an unusual absence of smell and trace the origins accordingly.

As is now – Even without an olfactory trail, Brudo still relentlessly hunted the trail guided only by a faint abnormal intuition, yet the mystery confused him – while the opponent obviously came stealthily, why would he now publicly challenge him? Totally uncharacteristic of a common human.

Farther ahead there was no sign of Qianye, none of the werewolves were managing to follow from behind either. Though Bruto was sure he ran in the right direction, uneasiness gradually grew in his heart.

Wolves are born Kings of the mountains; only Vampires would equal to them in swiftness. Opponent is a mere human – so why had he not caught up till now?

Suddenly Brudo burst into a clearing, while a young figure was already center stage, seemingly waiting for him.

Qianye stated coldly, “You are indeed slow.”

“Wench, do you truly insult the mightiest warrior upon this land!” Brudo’s throat vibrated with a menacing snarl.

Qianye smiled bitterly, “The mightiest warrior on this land? Not anymore.”

Angered beyond measure, Brudo’s rigid mane rose skyward, while razor-scaled claws extended from his fingers gleaming with an ominous glow. As Qianye drew his sword to thrust straight at Brudo’s chest.

Not too swift; Not too leisurely yet – This slash created an astonishing illusion that no movement could evade. Brudo growled with fury, swiping double-claws powerfully to knock against the blade. An instant shock hit him, as if he ran against a towering mountain.

Even though the East&Yue leaned sideways slightly, fragments and cracks appeared from Brudo’s reinforced armor-like gauntlets.

Qianye advanced forward, swinging East&Yue sideways along an arc targeting Brudo’s flank.

Pounding impact sounded through the woods as Brudo countered once again. This time however, gashes were torn upon the backs of Brudo’s knuckles oozing his blood. Unbelievable for a werewolf of noble standing that this inconspicuous great-sword could pierce his arm’s protection.

No sooner had East&Yue changed direction for another strike did Brudo discard restraint – fighting at full strength now.

In Qianye’s precise perception appeared Brudo the werewolf noble enveloped throughout with fierce surging darkness force. With every punch thrown appeared burst like dark force-projectiles launched from a canon, each swiping claw gathering ambient darkness forces towards the tips – enough to tear the strongest shields into tatters.

East&Yue carved layering arc-blade curtains in air seemingly casually – lacking specific forms initially, yet displaying incredible quickness and delicacy. Alone as an onlooker you may never sense its overwhelming nature. Yet for Brudo on opposing end only could feel an ever-mounting burden – where it felt like under each coming blade laid another mountain pushing down atop him.

Brudo’s defense kept fracturing at its frailest spots while the massive pressure from the great-sword felt increasingly all-encompassing – suffocatory and overwhelming like being swallowed alive inside a deluge. In all encounters in Brudo’s memories before other superior powers like Earl Stoke’s himself had never encountered feelings this helpless, akin to being submerged within oceans depths suffocating.

Just as resistance worsened against Brudo, unexpectedly Qianye took a few measured steps back and raised East&Yue slowly high in composed declaration: “The Final Stroke.”

Superficially indistinct was this technique seemingly no different than earlier slashes yet something intensely unsettling stirred within Brudo’s heart. As if reality had for an unsettling instant, trembled! And Brudo distinctly sensed how the dark force from earth – normally granting him immense strength, now writhed violently out of control.

All bristles over Brudo’s neck upright stood while he howled in rage and at once poured forth all latent energies. His blazing dark aura, like ignited firewood exploding into conflagration, became a blazing dark flame visible round his figure.

Then was cast forth – the black-matte hued great sword seemingly tearing a void apart, with an indescribably color blade trailing an ethereal sheen as if capable of severing even light shadows themselves.

The wolflord’s pitch dark defenses as thick as layered armor collapsed like an avalanche at but a single gentle touch of East&Yue’s gleam. Tossed forcibly airborne, crashing painfully back down into grounded earth whereupon struggling upright his thick plate suddenly ruptured at the center, revealing an added crimson mark now cutting horizontally through his body center.

Trembling eyes beheld wound’s sight where he’d received injury – the stroke could have gutted Brudo’s innards, had it pressed deeper still. He gradually raised his sight toward where Qianye had firmly embedded East&Yue upright into soil while instead he held now an handgun steadily trained upon him.

“Do shoot,” murmured the werewolf viscount with strange composure. Surrendering after one’s defenses break, this he had endured from defeats before even against the Earl. But in prior struggles recovery had always remained. His present body, however, felt disturbingly helpless and weak as though that last cutting stroke had utterly severed all union of self with natural world; this very connection forming the root from which a werewolf’s regenerative prowess and natural strength stemmed.

“What’s desired isn’t your corpse – but rather allegiance. I trust my prior letter explained fully that intention.”

The growl resonated from Brudo: “Wolfs yield not, even in defeat!”

“Perhaps after observing this you’d alter such views?”

Qianyu tossed the Peak-Of-Trails medal towards him.

Grasped into palm was Brudo’s inspection of the heavy object which stirred momentary surprise across his features which faded while scenting it up closely and slowly answering: “Knowing of the differences between those of ancestral traditions and the doctrine up peak-of-Trails. Since time past these divisions only widens, and therefore orders from that peak we do not obey.”

“Neither have there been any orders sent from the peaks. Simply knowledge to share – between myself and your people aren’t sworn unbreakable foes,” Qianye’s lips curled lightly, continuing “Of courses friendships aren’t an option here. But yes; I can grant lands and protection as you’d done previously under Stoke – if certain corresponding fealty duties fulfilled.”

“This land is ours!” barked Brudo furiously.

A cold chuckle came from Qianye. “Dead folks haven’t lands. Nor does the dead claim homes,” Qianye retorted bitterly.

Brudo’s fierce energy ebbed gradually. Suddenly he snatched several deep sniffs toward Qianye’s directions, horror flashed upon his facial expression. “Intolerable reek! I sense upon your flesh unmistakable stench-of-blood.”

Excitement seized Brudo afresh, reddish irises flickered ominously.

Calmly spoke Qianye, “A fact I embrace. Am I but Human?”

Skeptical eyes glared back. Even amidst uncertainty, the noble Viscount struggled internally as few blood-savant tricks would dare claim humanity outright.

“You must respect those with strength and submit yourself towards it; isn’t that the fundamental doctrine that all wolves live by? I, having superseded Stoke, have earned not merely his dominion – also all related rights and privileges.” He paused and continued, expression turning more serious. ‘Unless that you’re planning to continue dying for him to his last man until wolves’ complete annihilation.”

His words resonated some internal chords. In the logic’s perspective, the notion makes absolute sense – Were not Qianye being a human but a noble of the dark-blooded kin, Brudo the werewolf Noble likely had agreed to his claim even.

After hesitation: “What benefit would following you bring me?”

Brudo slowly asked the question.

“Your life. Your clan intact. Just continuing as is while recognizing vassallage,” answered without hesitation. Qianye continued his persuasive reasoning. “Moreover under cooperation you might even find greater comfort should further collaboration established.”

Brudo emitted growling deep from his larynx before regaining calm posture, then finally responded “Few choices indeed I have…”

“If I were downed on soil, only then you’d gain options.”

Silently weighed for time; then spoke at last from wolf’s lips with resolve:

“I require time to contemplate the path before I act.”

“Granted. However only one days’ duration shall be mine to provide patience.”

Hoping it conveyed clearly, for in the wake of fair one-on-one victory against his superior prowess, Qianyu possessed neither concern for your returning soldiers rallying under you, nor the act of shedding further werewolf blood.

Brudo gave mute nods prior walking steadily away toward shadow-laced forest’s embrace.

As had Qianyu turning back toward his way as well. Soon after perched atop an exceptionally massive upright ancient tree surveyoring around all-encompassingly. With agreements mutually struck the countdown began – and twenty-four cycles shall be awaited.

Concerns toward betrayals held minimal grasp on mind of this young man. Beneath Brudo’s bristling exterior lay calculating and delicate spirit. Intelligent minds contemplate many angles, surely an advantageous trait, though often accompanied by excessive caution bordering fear of consequences and an innate aversion to unnecessary sacrifice. Perhaps because of that Qian Ye just had realized lately – a newfound partial preference towards intelligence was forming.

Before twenty-four cycles elapsed, Qian Ye decided to head toward Azure Mountain peaks; to “visit” elderly tribe leader Fengya – whom known as the Fang-Old-Chief. This particular frontier area marked clearly by ten-something war-totems sticking out across checkpoint lines; clearly all represented various minor sub-kin of Brudo’s larger domain except one notable exclusion – that of Fang-old’s very own. This omission itself conveyed an unmistakable stance.

Spring-launched downwards leaped Qian Ye with precision. From branch high more than ten meters, plunging headlong straight down beneath leaf canopies towards forest depths.

Yet mid-leap another movement; a thick horizontal limb snapped in passage as hand seized it with precision, the sudden breaking amplified by the whirring whoosh. Transferring all momentum now horizontal – he flew with speed in sweeping trajectory towards the Azure Mountain range.

Unexpected from eyes’ peripherals caught a most curious anomaly! An instant’s notice: An abrupt halt upon tree branches, retrieving a powerful spotting lens – focusing towards its point of origin.

Within lens, came unexpected sights unfurling.

Before him there was ascending into clear view an enormous full moon rising, a white realm like night’s eye opening. Against that magnificent, mysteriously shimmering silvery backdrop – appeared the figure of a woman dancing.

Illumination from Full Moon veiled detailed feature into obscurity leaving mere silhouette but paradoxically emphasizing the breathtaking curvature and proportions beyond human imagination.

Wildly wild – primal dance; her hips, waist, limbs, everything pulsating with extraordinary rhythms of motion; While the lens rendered the scene soundless, imaginary drums thundered into Qian Yu’s ears from timeless epochs afar!

Expressing longing! Perhaps pleasure! Maybe grief! Every profound intense emotions, perfectly interpreted with silent dance forms.

Limbs sometimes incredibly soft while fluidic; sometimes flexible, then powerful again – every reaching arm; undulating waist; flicking legs – striking thunderous drum beats that reverberated straight unto his heart causing rhythm matching its pulse.

Silently watching for some time – eventually retracting the optical lens, East&Yue at right hand while Lull&Manjusa left firmly held. Stationary now at one spot awaiting unfolding mysteries.

A certainty now blooming – serious peril approached at hand.

Coincidence seemed absurd to him now – randomly grabbing sight lens, gazed and accidentally seeing her appear spot center screen; something so impossible surely meant she had possessed an unimaginable extraordinary force.

Her very goal to make him aware – her presence.

For flight would be useless; the best choice was to await and confront fate headlong with collected resolution; perhaps a sliver of survival remains.

For many heartbeats Qian Ye stayed fixed without result. As skepticism threatened – wondering had his visions been a mere daydream – only to hear a hush enticing murmur in his ear.

“Did you wait… eagerly, for me just now?”