Chapter 113: The Wolf Fang Goes Into Action

Zhao Xiyan believed that beneath the level of a Grandmaster, it was nearly impossible for anyone to evade her detection. Even Lu Jue, who had visited the Prime Minister’s estate that day, could not have moved quietly under her watchful senses.

Yet, this monk, whose face remained obscured in shadow, had arrived behind her without a sound. For a moment, Zhao Xiyan felt a chill seep into her heart, and she swallowed nervously.

"I... I have come on the orders of the Prince to seek out the members of the Langya Pavilion."

With that, Zhao Xiyan raised her other hand, revealing a wolf-head jade pendant.

*Whoosh!*

A gust of wind stirred the air, and before she knew it, the pendant had vanished from her hand and appeared in the monk’s grasp.

*This...*

Zhao Xiyan’s eyes widened, her pupils contracting sharply as shock washed over her. The opponent’s strength was that of a Grandmaster. She reached this conclusion in an instant. No wonder she hadn’t sensed his presence before.

*Gurgle, gurgle!*

The monk’s face remained hidden in the shadows, but a strange sound emanated from his throat, like the bubbling of boiling water. A moment later, the sound ceased. A cold breeze swept through the courtyard, causing a withered leaf—the very last one—to drift slowly from an ancient tree.

*Swish!*

Zhao Xiyan’s vision blurred. In an instant, she was surrounded by a multitude of monks, all dressed exactly like the first. The falling leaf had not yet touched the ground.

"Are we ready to leave?" A muffled voice emerged from the group, hollow and empty, like the sound of a torrent rushing deep beneath an abyss.

"The Prince has issued his command. Let us go." The monk holding the jade pendant did not answer the question; he spoke only those few cold words, and then the entire group vanished from where they stood.

Looking at the now-empty courtyard of the ancient temple, a bead of sweat slowly traced a path down Zhao Xiyan’s temple. The dust on the ground lay undisturbed; aside from her own footprints from when she entered, the group had left no trace whatsoever. It was as if everything had been nothing more than a dream.

*Could it be... that they are all Grandmasters?*

Only now did Zhao Xiyan understand why Wang Changgeng was so confident in his ability to protect himself even in the face of the Divine Strategy Battalion. A hundred Grandmaster-level assassins—let alone the entire Ye Dynasty, even all the Grandmaster assassins in the world combined did not number as many as those in the Langya Pavilion.

When Wang Changgeng had gathered the members of the Penglai Pavilion, it had happened in a single night. Zhao Xiyan had just succeeded as the Pavilion Master and was settling in when she was suddenly struck unconscious. When she awoke, most of the Penglai Pavilion was gone, and the remaining experts were under the control of Wang Changgeng’s army. To preserve the hope of the Pavilion, she had been forced to submit to his command.

Now, Zhao Xiyan realized how correct her decision had been. With the strength of these people, a single word from Wang Changgeng would likely have reduced the entire Penglai Pavilion to ash and oblivion.

***

At the Pingyi Prince’s estate, Wang Changgeng stood in the backyard, waiting in silence and instructing his servants not to approach. The moon was bright, the stars sparse; he stood like a statue, reflecting on the events that had just transpired.

The commander of the Western Gate had rushed to the estate in a panic, claiming the Divine Strategy Battalion had been ordered to patrol the area. Wang Changgeng had sneered inwardly. *Patrol? They are likely here to guard the Emperor.*

If the Divine Strategy Battalion had arrived, then Feng Yewu must have entered the city as well.

Wang Changgeng caught the sound of wind at his ear. Without turning, he felt someone standing behind him—the monk with the wolf-head jade pendant.

"Your Highness, what are your commands?"

The monk pulled back his hood, revealing a terrifying visage with two bulging eyes of mismatched colors. Wang Changgeng did not turn, speaking softly to the air.

"In all these years, has the nightmare in your hearts faded?"

After the Eastern Yi people sued for peace, Wang Changgeng’s men—the "Wolf Fangs"—had been plagued by demons in their dreams due to the sheer volume of their past killings. Without the slaughter of war, they lost the outlet for their inner malice, and in the years of peace, one by one, they had succumbed to psychological instability.

At the time, Wang Changgeng was expanding his connections and sought to cultivate an image of benevolence within the Ye Dynasty, so he forbade them from killing at will. With little choice, he had ordered a temple built to house them.

He instructed them to chant sutras and calm their minds, but the Wolf Fangs, having been trained as instruments of death, would not so easily lay down their blades. At first, they managed to restrain themselves, but as time passed, one by one, they all descended into madness. Peace was like a swarm of termites consuming their flesh, leaving them itching and suffering in agony.

Eventually, the masters brought in to guide them in chanting were all brutally murdered. The people of Langya City dared not even visit the temple to pray.

The monk, hearing Wang Changgeng’s question, grinned, revealing yellowed, blackened teeth and gums shrunken to expose the roots. He laughed in a grotesque manner.

"Those sutras and incantations do nothing for us. Only killing can bring us peace. Did you summon us today to deliver the antidote?"

The "antidote" the monk spoke of was human blood. The thrill of snapping a neck with their own hands was the only medicine for their suffering.

Wang Changgeng turned slightly, his eyes filled with indifference. He glanced at the monk’s tattered robes, stained with grease and dried black blood, and spoke softly.

"Outside the city, a cavalry unit is stationed. After midnight, I do not wish to see them again."

Hearing this, an uncontrollable excitement flared in the monk’s strange eyes. He threw his head back and let out a desolate, piercing wolf howl.

The moment the howl ended, a chorus of wolf howls erupted from outside the Pingyi Prince’s estate.

***

At an inn near the Western Gate, Feng Yewu had just finished changing into his night clothes and was preparing to head out with Lu Jue when the series of howls reached his ears. He frowned, puzzled.

"Langya City is situated between plains and hills; why would there be wolves howling tonight?"

Upon hearing the howls, Lu Jue’s body stiffened. His eyes filled with disbelief as he turned to Feng Yewu, his voice trembling.

"Your Majesty, those are not wolves. It is the signaling method of the Wolf Fangs, the former subordinates of the Pingyi Prince."

Feng Yewu’s expression shifted to one of alarm. "The Wolf Fangs? Did I not hear that they were disbanded many years ago because their killing was too heavy? Why have they suddenly appeared now?"

Lu Jue offered a helpless, bitter smile. "Your Majesty, was the Penglai Pavilion not also supposedly wiped out by the Pingyi Prince? Yet, here they are, back in the world of men."

Feng Yewu felt a surge of indignation. Wang Changgeng was a man of layer upon layer of lies. Had he not experienced his previous life, he would never have known how many secrets the man had hidden.

In her room, Wei Nanqi also heard the howling. The sheer murderous intent carried by those piercing sounds sent a shiver through her, and she stepped out of her chamber.