They had all crawled out from piles of dead bodies. If their legs had been weak, they wouldn't have survived until now.
Fear couldn't defeat her, because her brother was right in front of her!
By the ti the white wolf reacted, the boy had already regained his footing. He had swapped the broken rattan basket for the sickle in his hand, which ant he chose not to run but to fight.
He knew very well that he couldn't outrun it earlier. To turn and run at this distance would an certain death, especially without a second rattan basket to save his life.
One could only say this person truly had nerves of steel to calmly think, keenly observe his surroundings to make a decision under such circumstances, and possess the guts to gamble.
But standing before him was absolute power.
Among the Barbarian Tribes, humans possessed no moral concepts, let alone wolves. Wolves instinctively preferred the weak, as they were less likely to fight back and cause injury.
They didn't mind aiming their sharp teeth at the old and young; for them, the law of the jungle was the only truth.
But now, this 'young beast' wanted to fight back. This only further aroused the white wolf's hunting interest, and it began to pace forward.
"When I shout, you run, and don't you ever look back!"
"No! We'll go together." The sister seed to have realized sothing. She, who hadn't cried before, suddenly had two streams of hot tears rolling down her face, biting her lip so hard it even started to bleed.
"If we separate, at least one of us might get away. Do you understand that Mother is waiting for us at ho?"
The boy was eerily calm, his words even betraying a sense of desperation.
"Go now!"
The boy shouted, and the sister, without hesitation, turned and ran. At that mont, he felt a sudden relief.
The white wolf was right in front of him. As soon as it saw the sister start to run, it aggressively sped up its charge. It would not let its prey escape.
But what stood in its way was a true Brave!
He had no intention of running away, even if he guessed what might co next.
If one of them had to be left behind, it could only be him.
The pressure that nearly suffocated him beca his strength at that mont—determination!
The surge of adrenaline made the boy forget his fear. Without hesitation, he picked up the sickle and charged at the white wolf, determined to hold it back and buy his sister more ti.
But that battle-hardened white wolf was not afraid of the sickle—which was no better than a piece of scrap iron to it—and fiercely pounced forward.
A re swipe of its paw sent him flying, and the sickle he held fell to the ground as well.
The gap in strength was simply too large. The sickle hadn't even made contact.
And this ti, there was no rattan basket to shield him. Those claws, sharp enough to tear through tough tree bark and woven rattan, struck him hard.
How could his already malnourished and frail body withstand such a blow?
Just one hit, and he felt as if he had plumted from the clouds. A second later, as the adrenaline subsided, intense pain rushed to his brain. His insides felt like they had been pounded into mush, and he nearly blacked out.
The boy grimly bore the pain and looked down, only to discover that the front of his chest was soaked with blood. Clear scratch marks had torn through his clothes and into his flesh. He even felt his ribs were broken.
Pain continuously assaulted his brain, but he still couldn't fall. His blurred vision caught sight of the Evil Wolf abandoning him and going straight for his sister.
The boy didn't even have the strength to stand, only able to watch as the white wolf closed in on his sister.
And his sister, running towards the rising sun, seed to vanish into the blazing sunlight.
No… The boy stretched out his hand as best he could. He wanted to catch... catch...
As if hearing her brother's voice from behind, the sister instinctively looked back. As she swung her head, the little white flower pinned near her ear fell from her hair.
Taking advantage of the mont, the white wolf leapt towards her small back. The bloodstains on its claws scattered, and one drop landed perfectly on the little white flower.
It was a collision of blood red and pure white…
"KILL!"
A furious shout erupted like thunder. From the bushes, a figure dashed out, cutting through the light of the sunrise. Under that scorching sun, a spear flew horizontally through the air.
A glint of cold light arrived first, followed by the spear that shot out like a dragon!
The spear pierced through the leaping white wolf in mid-air, then slamd it to the ground.
"Damn beast!"
The man fiercely kicked the white wolf and yanked the spear out. Ignoring its whimpering howls, he thrust the spear back into its neck, killing the beast for good.
The one wielding the spear was indeed a mber of the third team who had hurried over.
He turned to look at the child but was surprised to find her not at all alard. She was just blankly staring at a blood-red flower in her hand, a flower that was exotic and even sowhat sinister.
In an almost imperceptible area, the blood-red was tainting the last bit of pure white.
Grendel, who was driving upstream, and the Warwolf, racing towards the farm, both seed to sense sothing and involuntarily cast their gaze in this direction…
The soldier sensed sothing amiss and slightly furrowed his brow. He swept his gaze around, searching for the source of his unease, but found nothing and could only call out.
"Are you okay, child?"
"Brother!" The little girl suddenly snapped to alertness, looking up and then darting forward, crying out, "Brother!"
Noticing this, the soldier quickly followed. By the ti they found the boy, he was in very poor shape, even close to death. The wound on his chest was nearly fatal, and he was barely breathing.
Upon seeing his condition, the soldier couldn't help but be shaken. It was a frontal wound, which clearly spoke of the circumstances.
This frail body had managed to muster such courage!
"Brother, what's wrong... You can't leave ..." The girl clung to her brother, continuously calling out.
The boy regained a bit of consciousness and looked at the soldier. "Quick... take her away... don't mind ."
"Hamlet never abandons anyone!" declared the soldier resolutely, quoting the Lord's maxim, and then took out the dicinal powder he was given.
"Hold on, I have dicine."
The soldier hastily poured the dicinal powder from Grendel onto the wound, which demonstrated strong hemostatic abilities.
But the problem was that the boy's real issue was internal injuries. The pain caused by the dicinal powder made him cough, expelling bloody foam.
"Quick! We can save you if we get back."
Although his battlefield dical training had taught him not to move the injured carelessly, the soldier couldn't afford to consider that now and hoisted the boy onto his back.
Years of rigorous training allowed him to easily carry the boy's frail fra.
"Keep up, we're going ho."
With one hand supporting the boy on his back and the other holding his spear, the soldier, accompanied by the little girl, headed towards the farm.
However, wolves are typically pack animals. The scent of blood was a powerful attractant, and instantly, two more wolves began to follow.
Moreover, these two wolves were extrely cunning. One positioned itself in front, and the other behind—a common hunting tactic they employed. One would distract while the other attacked. The key was that their target wouldn't know which wolf would strike, as they coordinated based on the prey's movents.
With one man needing to protect two others, the soldier was imdiately plunged into a crisis.
"Damn it!"
Without the two children, he wouldn't hesitate to face two wolves alone. But now, he couldn't make a reckless move; he was severely restricted.
This was not the ti for a leisurely hunt. The probing movents of the two white wolves grew more intense as they sought to force an opening.
But the soldier's resilience under pressure was incredibly strong. Even then, he refrained from swinging his spear wildly, instead rely holding it ready, which posed a significant threat to the wolves.
They moved!
The two white wolves, one in front and one behind, launched their attacks almost simultaneously. The soldier stepped forward without a mont's hesitation, his spear finally thrusting out.
Unexpectedly, the white wolf in front twisted its body and halted its advance. Instead, the wolf from behind leapt forward in a pounce.
BANG!
A gunshot rang out. The white wolf attempting an ambush from behind had its belly torn open by a bullet, its innards and shredded flesh mixed with blood spilling onto the ground.
Seeing this, the remaining wolf in front didn't dare to co any closer.
"Captain!"
"I'm fine," the soldier said, raising his spear to signal the newcor.
It was the team's Sharpshooter, whose skill ranked among the top five in the entire army. He was practically inseparable from his gun, even during sleep.
The white wolves had their pack. Did he not have comrades too?
User Comments
0 comments from readers