Chapter 56: The Final Clue

The roar of the force gun shattered the tranquility of the town. The werewolf elder almost instantly leapt to avoid the shot, but he was still a step too slow. Amidst the flying blood, his right arm and the wooden staff in his hand were severed and flew off, falling far away onto the ground.

Enduring the excruciating pain, the werewolf elder trembled as he pounced towards the wooden staff, reaching out with his hand. It seemed that this tattered wooden staff was more important than his own life.

But the gun roared again, and the elder’s left arm was also blasted off. His aged body crashed heavily to the ground, unable to get up.

In a nearby room, Ye Ting stowed away the Shadow Hymn, drew her dagger, and whirled around, thrusting straight at the door! The dagger pierced through the wooden door, burying itself to the hilt.

A wail of agony echoed from outside the door, as a werewolf’s sharp claws burst through the wood, grabbing Ye Ting’s wrist. However, her grip on the bloodsucking blade remained steady, unwavering. In just a few breaths, the werewolf warrior’s hand weakened, and he fell.

Ye Ting then retracted the bloodsucking blade, exited the room through the window on the other side, and vanished into the labyrinthine alleys. Just as she left, a force grenade the size of a small watermelon was thrown into the room through the window, blowing the entire house sky-high.

The gunfire and explosion plunged the town into chaos. The werewolf warriors recognized the blast as coming from the force grenades issued by the guard, but the gunfire was unfamiliar.

Several werewolf warriors returned to the square, where they saw the werewolf elder struggling in a pool of blood, and were horrified. They rushed over to help him, but the elder, his eyes fixed on the wooden staff, anxiously said, “Quickly, give me my staff!”

Seeing the short stumps that were once his arms, the werewolf warriors were puzzled about how the elder would use the staff. But this was an order, so one warrior dashed towards the distant staff. As he bent down to reach for it, a gunshot boomed, and his head exploded. The decapitated werewolf corpse swayed before slowly collapsing to the ground.

Much blood and flesh splattered onto the staff, which seemed to come alive, its surface writhing and devouring the flesh. Even the colorful ribbons wrapped around it absorbed the blood.

Seeing this, the elder grew even more frantic, urging the warriors to retrieve the staff from the blood and flesh, and commanding them to find and kill the sniper.

Witnessing the staff devour the flesh, the werewolf warriors felt a chill. Yet, under the elder’s orders, another warrior reluctantly approached the staff. But as he bent down, another shot rang out, and his head was shattered once more.

The werewolf elder, looking at the faint, elusive dark streak in the air, said with a grim expression, “It’s a Demonkin, a Demonkin! How could there be a Demonkin here?”

Demonkin were extremely rare in the Neutral Lands, but the shadowy trail left by the force bullet was a genuine magical aura, unique to Demonkin. Other dark races generally did not use Demonkin weapons, as their power would be greatly diminished.

Just from the sound of the gunfire, the werewolves couldn’t pinpoint Ye Ting’s location. With each shot, Ye Ting activated the special ability “Resonance,” causing the sound to echo around, making it impossible for others to determine her position. However, the residual magical trail in the air exposed her hiding place.

Under the elder’s guidance, several werewolf warriors quickly converged on Ye Ting’s hideout, some through the windows, some breaking down doors, and others smashing through the roof. But when they burst into the room, they found no sign of Ye Ting, only a pile of force grenades on the table.

A massive explosion shook the entire town, leveling the house and the surrounding area. Despite their strength, the warriors who rushed into the room were not spared. One, who had smashed through the roof, was blown dozens of meters into the air.

Not far away, Ye Ting saw this and disappeared into another alley. Before leaving the Evernight, as a vampire princess, Ye Ting had fought more with werewolves than with humans, and she knew their fighting habits well.

When the explosion occurred, the elder’s face turned even more grim. He suddenly lifted his head, howling into the sky, calling for the surviving werewolf warriors.

Several howls echoed from different parts of the town.

The elder’s face turned even more ashen. There were too few responses, so few that it was unsettling. So many warriors had entered the town, like being swallowed by an invisible beast, with no reply. Apart from those killed by sniping and the explosion, at least fifty warriors should still be alive. But now, there were fewer than ten responses.

The elder’s eyes twitched, his gaze sweeping over the hellish town, issuing a series of short, shrill cries, like the wailing of ghosts.

This was the command for the survivors to retreat, at any cost. Forget the spoils, forget aiding comrades; save themselves.

Several werewolf warriors fled the town, running towards the distance. Gunfire sounded again, and one warrior fell, while the others seized the chance to run, escaping the range of the Shadow Hymn.

Ye Ting, half-kneeling on the roof, lowered the Shadow Hymn, watching the retreating warriors. These were intentionally allowed to escape to spread the news.

In the central square, Qian Ye picked up the wooden staff and walked to the werewolf elder. In Qian Ye’s hands, the staff became unusually docile, no longer writhing and consuming, even though it was still covered in blood and flesh.

Qian Ye squatted in front of the elder and asked, “Why is this staff so important to you?”

The elder grunted, not answering, but the anxious look in his eyes revealed the staff’s importance to him.

The pain of his severed arms tormented the elder, yet he did not utter a single groan. Qian Ye frowned, knowing it would be difficult to extract any information from him. Such a resolute enemy was admirable but also infuriating.

After a moment’s thought, Qian Ye released a thread of blood energy, shooting it into the elder’s wound. His face twisted, and his body trembled, clearly in immense pain. But until he passed out, the elder did not make a sound, let alone beg for mercy.

Ye Ting approached and asked, “What now?”

Qian Ye held up the staff and said, “I couldn’t get anything out of him. But he values this thing highly, suggesting it hides some secret. I can’t force it out of him.”

“Keep the staff for now. We’ll find out eventually. If he won’t talk, someone else will.”

Qian Ye nodded, stowing the staff into Anduia’s mysterious world, then lightly tapped the elder’s head, shattering his skull. This injury, even if he were somehow revived, would prevent him from regaining consciousness.

After this, Qian Ye and Ye Ting left the town, vanishing into the Black Forest.

Just a few dozen kilometers from the town, a massive floating warship hovered in the air. The ship was covered in thick steel spines, giving it a particularly menacing appearance. Its design was reminiscent of the early days of floating ships, before powerful force cannons or the mighty, tracking crossbows existed. Ramming was still a crucial tactic in aerial combat.

At the top of the ship, a large command room stretched across the level. In the center, on a seat with ancient-style decorations, sat a tall, gaunt werewolf with a sullen face. He had strange, dark red hair and eyes to match.

Before him, several werewolf warriors who had escaped from the town knelt, reporting everything that had happened.

The seated werewolf slowly said, “Demonkin? Are you sure it was a Demonkin?”

One warrior replied, “It was Elder Jili’s judgment.”

“Fine. Jili may be useless, but his eyesight is still reliable. If he says it was a Demonkin, then it was. A Demonkin in such a remote place? Bring me the map.”

Two attendants brought a map and spread it before him. The map showed the terrain around the town, though crudely drawn, it was sufficient.

The red-haired werewolf studied the map for a long time, then asked, “Where do you think this Demonkin might be hiding?”

An elderly werewolf said, “We’ve thoroughly searched this area. The only place we missed is one.”

“Black Forest?” the red-haired werewolf said.

“According to the townspeople, there used to be a path along the edge of the Black Forest leading to a piece of land. Some newcomers settled there, but they were human, not Demonkin.”

The red-haired werewolf frowned, “Find out more details!”

The elderly werewolf looked somewhat embarrassed, “Sir, Bloodmane, all the townspeople have been killed. There’s no one left to ask.”

Bloodmane made no comment, staring at the map. After a moment, he said, “This map is incorrect. There’s no path there anymore; the Black Forest has sealed it off.”

“Yes, sir. To search that land, we’d need to go through the Black Forest.”

“Hmph, through the Black Forest? I have no interest in that. Since there are no living beings here, let’s return.”

The elderly werewolf, startled, quickly said, “Elder Jili’s body is still in the town, and there’s the Resurrection Staff!”

“True. Let’s go check the town first.”

Moments later, the massive floating warship arrived over the town. Dozens of werewolf warriors leaped down, searching the area. They found Jili’s body but not the Resurrection Staff, nor any valuable leads.

On the warship, Bloodmane gazed at Jili’s corpse, his eyes lingering on the severed arms. “There are traces of magic, but it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s a Demonkin. Still, report it as such. Hmph, no clues left, must be a seasoned hand!”

“Sir, should we expand the search area?”

Bloodmane didn’t answer, instead, he stared out the window. Through the porthole, the dark, lifeless Black Forest could be seen. From this angle, mist rose continuously, covering the entire forest up to hundreds of meters above.

Seeing the mist, Bloodmane’s pupils contracted, and he said, “No need. Let’s go back.”