Chapter 139 - 95 : The Stranger And The Wolves (2)

Chapter 139: Chapter 95 : The Stranger And The Wolves (2)

Lucian’s shout cut through the rain as he charged into the crater. The nearest wolf spun toward him, its lips pulling back as a warning growl rumbled from its throat. It barely had time to react before another wolf lunged at Lucian from the side.

His hand moved on instinct.

Steel flashed through the rain.

Slash!

The wolf twisted in midair, but Lucian’s blade still caught it across the ribs. The force of the strike sent it crashing into the mud, where it rolled once before scrambling away with a sharp whimper. Lucian barely had time to recover before another shape came at him from the left.

He turned just as the wolf’s jaws snapped toward his arm. Lucian threw up his sleeve and caught the bite against his forearm. Teeth punched through the soaked fabric, and pain shot through his arm as the wolf’s weight drove him half a step backward.

"Get off!"

He wrenched his arm downward and drove his other hand forward. His blade slipped beneath the wolf’s body.

The beast yelped.

Lucian tore the blade free and shoved it away, sending the wounded wolf collapsing into the mud. But there was no time to breathe. A third wolf was already coming straight at him, head lowered and eyes fixed on him.

Lucian twisted aside.

Its claws scraped across his robe as he swung his sword sideways. The blade caught the wolf across the chest, forcing it to recoil with a sharp cry before landing several steps away.

The remaining wolves stopped.

For a moment, the clearing went still.

Only the rain continued to hammer against the trees, filling the silence between the low growls coming from the pack. Lucian stood between the wolves and the wounded stranger, his chest heaving as he kept his blade raised. Blood ran from the torn sleeve around his arm, mixing with the rainwater dripping from his clothes.

The wolves did not rush him again.

Their eyes remained fixed on him, their ears shifting as they listened to something beyond the clearing.

Then Lucian heard it too.

A distant shout came through the forest.

"Over there!"

His expression tightened.

The wolves reacted immediately. Several heads turned toward the trees, their bodies becoming tense as they listened. For a few seconds, their attention shifted between the approaching voices and Lucian, as though they were weighing whether he remained the greater threat.

Then one wolf slowly backed away.

Another followed.

The rest hesitated only a moment longer before retreating into the darkness, their shapes disappearing between the trees until only the faint sound of paws moving through wet undergrowth remained.

Lucian finally lowered his blade.

He let out a slow breath, then looked down at his arm.

The wolf’s teeth had torn through his sleeve and left a bleeding wound beneath it.

"Just what I needed."

He grabbed the damaged sleeve and ripped the torn section away. With the remaining cloth, he quickly wrapped the wound and tightened it around his arm. The rain immediately soaked through the makeshift bandage, carrying thin streaks of blood down his wrist.

Another shout came through the forest.

Closer this time.

Lucian’s head snapped toward the sound. The voices were getting nearer, and the brief pause he had gained was already disappearing. His gaze dropped to the stranger lying in the mud, then shifted back toward the trees.

There was no time.

He crouched beside the wounded man and reached down, gripping him beneath the shoulders.

"Come on."

Lucian pulled him upright, but the stranger’s body was heavier than he expected. His muscles strained as he hauled him against his side, then shifted the unconscious man onto his shoulder and secured him with one arm.

"Stay alive."

He did not know whether the stranger could hear him. He did not wait to find out.

Lucian turned toward the edge of the crater and started climbing. His boots slipped against the wet, broken earth as he dragged himself upward, the added weight making every step harder. He caught the edge with one hand, pulled himself over, and finally reached level ground.

Another shout echoed through the forest.

Lucian did not look back.

He pushed into the trees with the wounded stranger over his shoulder and disappeared into the darkness.

Ethan had heard everything.

Barely.

His consciousness drifted in and out, rising for a moment before sinking back beneath the darkness. The pain inside his body never truly left him, but through that haze, he had followed what was happening around him.

Then the stranger had appeared.

Ethan had watched him stop.

He had seen the man’s gaze move toward the torchlight, then return to him. Even through his blurred vision, Ethan could understand what was happening. The man was deciding whether to leave.

Ethan could hardly blame him.

Anyone with sense would have kept running. The man was already being pursued, already carrying his own troubles, and Ethan was nothing more than a wounded stranger lying helplessly in a crater. There was no reason for him to get involved.

So when the man had stood there struggling with his thoughts, Ethan had expected him to leave.

Instead, he didn’t .

Ethan’s eyes remained half-open as the stranger stepped between him and the wolves. He watched the man raise his blade and fight without spiritual energy, without a cultivation technique, without the overwhelming strength Ethan had grown accustomed to seeing in this world.

It was only training, timing, a sword, and desperation. He hadn’t used spiritual energy or any technique that Ethan recognized. He’s not even a Body Tempering cultivator. The realization felt strange.

A man who could not cultivate had still stepped forward to protect someone he did not know.

Ethan tried to understand it, but the effort itself seemed too heavy. His body was already drowning in pain, his thoughts slipping apart whenever he tried to hold them for too long. Yet the sight of that stranger standing between him and the wolves remained in his mind.

Why?

The question surfaced quietly.

Ethan had spent so long learning to survive in this world that he had come to expect people to protect what belonged to them and abandon what did not. Trust had to be earned. Help always seemed to come with a reason.

But the man had seen him helpless and still turned back. Something stirred beneath the pain. It wasn’t quite gratitude, but something quieter.

Recognition.

He understood the weight of that choice because he had almost watched the man make the opposite one.

Then strong hands seized him.

Ethan barely had time to react before his body was dragged upright. Pain ripped through him as the sudden movement disturbed the injuries inside him, and the world lurched violently sideways.

For a moment, Ethan could not even tell what was happening. His body suddenly shifted, the ground disappearing beneath him as the stranger hauled him upright. A moment later, he was thrown over the man’s shoulder, his weight hanging almost entirely limp against him.

The sensation was strangely humiliating.

Ethan had fought cultivators. He had survived hunters, escaped a Foundation Establishment cultivator, and crossed dangers that should have killed him. Yet now he could not even control his own body. He could do nothing but hang there while someone else carried him.

He tried to move.

Nothing.

His fingers twitched weakly against the man’s back.

The stranger started running.

Every step sent a dull jolt through Ethan’s battered body. The movement shook his wounds, dragged at his torn muscles, and made the strange energy inside him surge again. Rain struck his face in cold bursts, running across his skin and into his hair before dripping away.

Behind them, the crater disappeared.

Trees rushed past in blurred shadows.

Branches brushed against him as the stranger forced his way deeper into the forest. Ethan could hear his breathing, fast and uneven, along with the heavy rhythm of his footsteps against the soaked ground.

The man was exhausted.

He was injured.

And he was still carrying him.

Ethan’s thoughts drifted back to the wolves, then to the torches somewhere behind them. The stranger had already been running for his life before he found Ethan. Now he had chosen to carry another burden with him.

Ethan still did not know the man’s name. He did not know where he was being taken or whether the stranger could be trusted. Under normal circumstances, those uncertainties would have kept his mind alert, searching for answers and weighing every possibility.

But right now, he had no better option.

For once, his survival was not in his own hands. As all he could do was let himself be carried.

The stranger pushed harder, his footsteps growing heavier as he forced his way through the rain. Ethan felt the man’s shoulder shift beneath him with every stride, felt the rise and fall of his breathing, and heard the faint sound of pursuit gradually fading behind them.

Fainter.

Then farther away.

Ethan’s eyelids grew heavier.

The pain remained.

The strange energy was still tearing through his body, and his Living Blood was still fighting to repair the damage. He could feel it moving beneath his skin, stubbornly keeping him alive even as his consciousness continued to slip.

He tried to hold on.

Just a little longer.

But his vision had already begun to blur, the trees melting into dark shapes around him. The rain striking his face grew softer, more distant, while the stranger’s footsteps beneath him gradually faded into a dull rhythm.

Ethan’s fingers twitched weakly against the man’s back. Then his consciousness finally slipped away as everything went dark.

And Lucian Veymont disappeared deeper into the storm, carrying a stranger whose name he did not yet know.