Chapter Two: Heh, luckily I’ve read this story before.-Glory of the Tang Dynasty(The Drunkard)

"Grrrr... grrr..." The wild wolf quickly retreated two steps, its growl low and agitated.

With its limited intelligence, it clearly couldn’t comprehend how its prey’s hands had suddenly produced a new weapon, nor why the weapon’s threat felt so intense.

"Come on, bite me! Come on, try and bite me!" Seeing the wolf forced to retreat again and again, Zhang Qian locked his gaze on the animal’s eyes, his shouts growing ever more brazen.

He didn’t know if he could really smash the wolf’s skull with his backpack. What he did know, with absolute clarity, was that unless he scared the wolf away today, he would become its meal.

And the survival lessons learned in the orphanage as a child and adolescent echoed in his heart: to drive away those who bully you, you must outdo them in ferocity and ruthlessness. No matter how afraid you might be inside, you had to grit your teeth and hold your ground. Otherwise, all that awaited you was a brutal beating and days or even months of humiliation.

"Grrrr... grrr..." The wolf, unable to figure Zhang Qian out, growled and shifted its gaze to the woods on its left, alternating its paws as it continued to slowly back away.

The wolf was about to give up! The realization flashed through Zhang Qian’s mind, filling him with sudden hope. But before he could even allow his nerves to relax, the scene before him blurred—then the wolf sprang diagonally forward, covering five or six meters in an instant, leaping again for his throat from the front side, jaws agape and targeting his carotid artery!

"Ah—!" Zhang Qian screamed uncontrollably, squeezed his eyes shut, and swung his backpack wildly with his right hand, driven by pure instinct.

The wolf’s leap traced a zigzag path, so his first swing struck only air, throwing him off balance. The stench of the beast’s breath assaulted his nostrils, making his stomach roil. Then, sharp pain and the sound of canvas tearing exploded from his thigh, spreading through his whole body in a split second.

The wolf’s jaws had missed, thanks to his staggering, but one of its front claws landed on his left thigh. His sturdy jeans were shredded in an instant, three long slashes opening across the fabric, blood quickly welling along the torn edges.

"Ah—!" The pain tore another scream from Zhang Qian’s throat. On instinct, he swung his right arm again, whirling his backpack in a circle and smashing it down with all his strength—"Boom!" The impact of heavy weight against flesh sent a wave of savage satisfaction through him. The wolf’s agonized cry rang out, echoing over the open field, "Awooo—"

"Ah—! Ah—!" Zhang Qian kept screaming, swinging his backpack in wild arcs before him. Bushes and wild grass were battered aside, while the wolf’s howling grew more and more distant.

"Ah—" Forcing his eyes open, he quickly assessed the situation. The wolf had retreated over fifteen meters away, one foreleg curled in pain against its chest, blood visible at its nostrils and mouth.

Yet the brute refused to leave, propping itself up with its other three legs, standing in the tall grass, glaring at him with eyes burning with hatred.

"Get lost! Go on, get out of here!" Zhang Qian staggered forward a few steps, backpack whirling like a meteor hammer before him. The wound on his thigh protested, sending a fresh lance of agony through him and causing him to stumble.

Afraid to approach the wolf further, he hobbled backward and once more pressed his back against the rock. He forced himself to check his thigh.

Thankfully, his jeans—though no famous brand—were made of canvas tough enough to block most of the wolf’s claws. The wounds on his leg, mostly from the claw tips, looked terrifying but weren’t deep, at least not deep enough to have torn any major blood vessels.

"Ptui! Ptui!" Without hesitation, Zhang Qian spat twice onto the wound, then tore off a leaf and smeared the saliva evenly.

The trick was one he’d learned from childhood brawls—when no disinfectant was available, spit could at least halve the chance of infection, though the act itself was undeniably revolting.

The wolf neither showed disgust nor took advantage of Zhang Qian’s distraction to launch another attack. The blow from the "meteor hammer" had left it wary of the backpack’s power. Still, hunger for blood kept it from retreating entirely. It crouched fifteen meters away, licking its wounded right foreleg with resentful longing.

"This beast is trying to recover its strength!" Zhang Qian, watching the wolf from the corner of his eye, quickly analyzed the situation. Having just suffered for underestimating his enemy, he dared not hope the wolf would give up so easily. He could only lean against the rock, regulate his breathing, and flex his arms, hoping to restore some strength before the next attack.

A minute passed; the wolf made no move.

Two minutes; it continued to lick its wounded leg.

Three minutes; its breathing grew steady, but its focus remained on its injury, as if there was chocolate or MSG hidden in the fur.

Four minutes...

Five minutes...

Even longer—the wolf half sat fifteen meters away from the rock, raising its right foreleg and licking it obsessively. The ferocity faded from its eyes, and a faint purring even sounded in its throat.

"Asleep?" Zhang Qian frowned in disbelief. Then, a chill ran down his spine!

The story of the butcher and the wolf from Strange Tales from a Chinese Studio! Memories from his middle school textbook flashed back into his mind. "...one of the dogs sat in front. After a long while, its eyes seemed to close, as if at leisure..."

Thank heaven he’d read that story! Ignoring the pain, Zhang Qian sprang to his feet as if loaded with springs. With three quick strides, he charged the wolf, swinging his backpack like a windmill and bringing it crashing down on the wolf’s head.

"Bang!" The impact of skull and heavy weight sent blood surging through his veins.

The beast had played its trick for too long and finally received its comeuppance. It rolled over two meters to the left, legs flailing, wailing in agony.

"Die! Die! Die!" Zhang Qian dared not show the beast even a shred of mercy. He pursued, raining blow after blow with the backpack. A kilo of books, plus another kilo and more of rocks, all wrapped in the canvas, smashed repeatedly against the wolf’s head and chest. "Bang, bang, bang, bang bang..."

"Ow ow ow, awooo, ow ow ow—" The wolf’s cries were shrill and desperate, like curses. It tried several times to rise and retaliate, but Zhang Qian battered it back to the ground each time. Soon, blood gushed from its nostrils, mouth, and eyes, soaking the autumn grass red. Both forelegs were broken, shattered bones piercing the hide, red with white fragments.

"Ow ow, awooo, ow..." The wailing grew weaker, until it ceased abruptly.

"Die!" Fearing the wolf might be playing dead, Zhang Qian lifted his uninjured right leg and stomped hard on the wolf’s ribcage. "Crack!" The sound of breaking bones was clear in his ears, yet brought no relief. He spun round, brandishing his backpack, and rushed back toward the rock.

From behind the rock, a second wolf—slightly smaller than the first—appeared, circling round and leaping for his shoulder, hind legs driving it through the air!

It used the same attack as before; if its forepaws landed on his shoulders, its jaws would tear out his throat and arteries in an instant. But the wolf could never have guessed that, in his desperate fight with the first, Zhang Qian had gained new experience.

He suddenly stopped, spun his body with the momentum of his run, and swung his backpack with all the strength in his legs, waist, and arms—"Bang—"

The backpack struck the wolf at the base of its left ear, spinning the beast mid-leap and sending it crashing into the grass. Zhang Qian went after it without hesitation, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg and the dizziness in his head, swinging the backpack again and again—"Bang, bang, bang bang..."

"Ow ow ow—" "Bang!"

"Oww—" "Bang!"

"Ow ow—" "Bang bang!" "Huff, huff, huff..."

The wolf’s whimpers, the sound of blows landing on flesh and bone, and Zhang Qian’s heavy breathing filled the air in a relentless rhythm.

Driven by an adrenaline surge, Zhang Qian’s limbs moved in perfect coordination, his body preternaturally agile. Nearly every strike landed squarely on the wolf’s head or torso, rendering all its rolling, dodging, and struggles futile.

"Ow ow!" "Bang bang!" "Huff, huff, huff..."

"Owww..."

The cries weakened, turning into pitiful pleas. The second wolf gave up its resistance, rolled onto its back, and exposed its soft belly.

This was the classic canine gesture of surrender—Zhang Qian had seen it in nature documentaries. But he dared not relent, swinging his backpack without a pause.

"Bang, bang, bang, bang bang..."

"Huff, huff, huff..."

"Owww..."

The impacts continued, the wolf’s wailing finally fading to nothing. Its legs curled up, head lolling aside, body covered in blood and wounds.

Summoning the last of his strength, Zhang Qian raised his right leg and stomped down, crushing the wolf’s ribcage. Then he dropped the second corpse and staggered toward the rear of the rock.

Behind the half-weathered rock, a massive earthen den yawned open, leading straight underground. Had he not reacted in time, he would have been caught in a pincer attack by the wolves as soon as the den was breached.

"No wonder I couldn't shake them off, no matter how far I ran!" Propping himself against the rock, he bent over, gasping for breath.

Clearly, from the beginning, two wolves had set their sights on him. During the chase, they took turns, wearing him down, while he ran on alone, too afraid to look back.

"Thank goodness I memorized those old texts in middle school!" With the crisis passed, relief and exhaustion washed over him in tandem.

A faint, unintelligible shout drifted over on the evening wind, the words unfamiliar but distinctly human.

Just as in the dramas, reinforcements always arrive "just in time" after the battle ends.

Turning his head, Zhang Qian looked toward the sound.

There were seven or eight figures approaching, all on horseback, dressed in strange attire but unmistakably human.

Relief loosened his nerves, darkness swam before his eyes, and every ounce of strength drained from his body.