Chapter 3: Follow Your Heart

Generally speaking, werewolves have a more straightforward temperament than humans, but the old man in charge of the war wolves was no exception to this rule. He grinned and accepted the gold coins. As for Adrian’s token, the old man simply brushed it with the tip of his sharp, dirty thumb to verify it.

“Those humans aren’t that generous,” the old man said, shaking his head and signaling for Neo to follow him.

“I hope to get help, not trouble. For that, I’m willing to do my best,” Neo said, following the hunched old man without overstepping.

“Is that so? Five denars won’t even buy you a Boreas war wolf!” the old man remarked leisurely.

Neo admitted he was right—military mounts couldn’t be bought on the market. Even the renowned top-tier wild mount, the Nagro war wolf, wouldn’t cost more than three denars. Each Frey denar contained 5 grams of gold and could buy about 500 kilograms of flour. An ordinary citizen’s annual income was less than three denars. Yet now, the old man thought five denars was too little. Anger began to rise in Neo’s heart.

Taking out his money pouch, Neo poured the coins into his hand, set aside the Bahraini dinars, and handed the remaining dozen or so dirhams to the old man. “I said I’m willing to do my best,” Neo emphasized again in a low voice.

The wolf pen’s passage resembled a stable, with pointed leather tents and makeshift wolf dens on either side, leaving a wide passage in the middle.

“Hmm, quite sincere,” the old man said, weighing the silver coins in his hand before stuffing them into his pocket. “But even so, I still can’t let you take a mount.”

“Why not?” Despite his burning anger, Neo tried to control his emotions and keep his voice as gentle as possible.

“Because I said you can’t leave.” Across the passage stood a burly man wrapped in a bear pelt shawl—the werewolf sent by Vladimir to watch over Neo.

“I have Adrian the Knight’s token,” Neo said, showing it.

“Even his lord, Baron Kryuliu, can’t decide anything. This is the Boreas barracks,” the burly man said arrogantly as he stepped forward.

“I’m willing to do my best to get permission to leave,” Neo emphasized for the third time.

“If you don’t want to get beaten, do as I say: Go back to the barracks!” the burly man snarled.

“Understood,” Neo replied with a nod. He spun sharply, drawing the single black iron sword at his back. A glint of cold light flashed in the dimly lit passage as the old werewolf’s neck was cut in half. Blood gushed forth as he tried to cover the wound, but the injury was too severe. His hunched body collapsed, and soon he was motionless.

Just as Neo acted, the burly man lunged at him in shock and anger. It was astonishing—this brat, this scum! He dared to kill a member of the legion in the Boreas barracks, right in front of him!

Before Neo could fully straighten up after swinging his sword, the burly man had already rushed forward over ten meters. Such speed was beyond Neo’s reach.

Yes, the burly man was far stronger thanNeo. After transforming, he could easily reach the level of a Grade 5 Berserker. As he lunged, his wolf transformation had already begun. As a Berserker who could precisely control the progression of his wolf form, the burly man first chose to transform his hands into sharp, massive claws—weapons in themselves.

At that moment, the burly man saw countless weaknesses inNeo. He was fully confident that he could deal heavy damage toNeo with just one strike. Indeed,Neo had no way to defend against the burly man’s attack, but he could choose which part of his body to use to absorb the impact and actively meet it head-on.

Through precise calculation and control of force, althoughNeo’s “combat acceleration” only increased his speed slightly, its stealth and timing were absolutely ingenious, even eerie. In that instant, to the burly man’s perception, it seemed as thoughNeo had suddenly turned around early and rushed at him—like throwing himself straight into the blade.

Which wolfman among the West Wind Berserkers didn’t have three or five lives on their hands? There was no way they wouldn’t strike. The burly man’s left claw plunged deep intoNeo’s chest and abdomen, spilling blood.

As the strike landed, the burly man also understoodNeo’s intention. With his abilities, he could sense that although the strike seemed fierce, with most of his claw buried in the opponent’s chest and abdomen, the damage to internal organs wasn’t that severe.

“A sacrifice? But it only bought a supplementary strike. How can my main right claw compete?”

The answer came the next instant—Neo’s two hands blocked the burly man’s powerful right claw strike. It was then that the burly man sawNeo’s true attack: a sword in his mouth!

Thud!

With the perspective of an ordinary observer, what happened in those fleeting moments was this:Neo suddenly drew a sword to slay the old wolfman, while the burly man reacted quickly and lunged at him. AsNeo spun around to face away from him, he threw the sword into the air, caught it in his mouth, and just as he turned, the burly man pounced. ThenNeo suddenly accelerated his turn and leaned forward, deliberately crashing into the burly man’s attacking claw. He then used both hands to block the burly man’s main attack and continued to spin and twist, the black iron sword slashing across the burly man’s neck.

Blood sprayed from his throat, and the burly man’s face showed disbelief as his eyes gradually lost their luster. With a thud, he fell to his knees.

At that moment,Neo plunged one hand into the burly man’s neck. As a finishing blow, it seemed somewhat unnecessary, but soon, something astonishing happened—the burly man began to wither! Yes, wither, like a flower drenched in desiccant, losing its vitality as it dried up. At the same time, an invisible force, yet one that could be sensed as full of vitality, flowed from his arms intoNeo’s body.

“Life Siphon” – this domineering skill, evaluated by worldly moral standards, clearly belonged to the evil category. Neo’s ability to use it stemmed from his unintentional absorption of the dark power of the werewolf Kailano earlier on.
A soul-striking attack that burns life can be controlled by a warrior, especially one with mental strength and determination far beyond ordinary people. Burning life can be seen as a state; those warriors who go berserk on the battlefield, those who die during rest despite no serious injuries, have actually burned through their life force excessively. Clearly, emotional control and guidance are ways to trigger this state.
Whether using a sword or magic, mastering oneself is a constant challenge for professionals. Neo was able to enter this state thanks to unforgettable childhood memories, perseverance, and determination. His understanding of “Life Siphon” came from experimenting after recalling and studying the dark powers of the werewolf. Using his own life force as a catalyst, he succeeded in siphoning the vitality of a strong man.
Neo knew well that while luck and his careful research played a role in this change, two other factors were likely decisive: 1) the witch’s evil spells; 2) the secret within his body.
Indeed, it was the influence of the “Dark Tides” left in his body from the “Cursed Soul” that enabled him to wield this sinister skill, while the secret hidden within him kept his self-awareness intact, leading him down a unique dark path.
Crack!
In just a few dozen seconds, the power of “Life Siphon” reduced a strong adult to ashes.
Neo unleashed the healing power of his wolf bloodline at full strength and found it had improved. Of course, it was still far from as powerful as that of a troll, but it was enough to cover up traces.
Even for the sake of destroying evidence, Neo had no reason not to target the old werewolf mount. Yet, the amount of power siphoned this time was pitifully small. It was unclear whether this was related to age, strength, or the duration of absorption. Clearly, more research was needed on this skill.
“I’ve said it before – to achieve my goal, I’m willing to do my utmost!” murmuring softly, Neo mixed wolf droppings with the ashes, snow-covered clothes, and soil, unafraid of the filth.
Vednis wolves weren’t as keen-sighted or keen-smelling as Daknis wolves, but they were still wolves, with senses far superior to ordinary people. Neo was naturally extremely careful when dealing with the remains. Finally, he buried the bones underground in the wolf den and scattered dry grass over them, using a simple trick to do so.
In Neo’s view, the key to hiding traces wasn’t to eliminate all evidence but to create little clues and twists that led to a false conclusion. This way, some existing clues would become difficult to trace due to wasted time.

The result of Neo’s little trick was that when Vladimir returned and found Neo gone, he investigated the matter all the way to the wolf den. Using those faint clues, he dug up the ground of the den, which had been emptied by Neo’s taken wolves, but found nothing, unaware that the real evidence was less than 5 meters away…

Neo looked at the wolves in the den and thought to himself, “If this were my hometown, at the moment the old werewolf was killed, these wolves would have rushed out to fight desperately. These wolves… they only have the appearance.”

“Hmm?” There were always exceptions. In one of the dens, Neo discovered a wolf that was different from the rest.

Judging by its fur color, this wolf’s lineage was dubious, and its health condition was poor as well. Beneath its sparse, matted fur, scars could be faintly seen—not only ringworm but also wounds. What set this wolf apart for Neo was its eyes: dark, calm, yet carrying an indescribable danger.

Neo grinned and whispered, “Same kind as me, similar fate?”

Crouched on the grassland, the wolf kept its head close to the ground, lifting its eyes to gaze coldly at Neo.

The closer Neo got, the colder the wolf’s gaze became. Then, Neo slowly crouched down and extended his right arm straight out.

“Hey! How about we be companions?” Neo’s eyes remained locked on the wolf’s.

With a sudden lunge, the wolf rushed at Neo. Yet Neo didn’t move, staying calm with a hint of amusement. It didn’t show its fangs, and more importantly, its eyes lacked murderous intent. Neo believed this wolf wasn’t smart enough to completely hide its true feelings at the moment of battle—at least not yet.

The wolf’s right paw landed on Neo’s palm—aancient and simple ritual that didn’t require learning; it simply existed deep in your memory. It would surface in your dreams at midnight, when you were free, when running through the vast wilderness. You might occasionally encounter or think of that simple yet profoundly meaningful scene.

A true werewolf’s heart is free, and they are companions, not masters and servants.