Abel's Direwolf

The little direwolf seemed to find the feeling of being in its mother's embrace in Abel's arms, nuzzling into him with its small head, tickling him. He couldn't help but gently stroke the little direwolf's head. As he stroked it, the little direwolf kept lifting its head, as if wishing his gentle touch wouldn't stop.

Abel stood up, holding the little direwolf, and walked towards the packhorses. With this little direwolf now, Abel was even less inclined to spend the night in the forest. There was no food here to fill the little direwolf's belly; they had to return to the castle.

As Abel approached the packhorses, the little direwolf's scent made them uneasy. They kept stomping their front hooves on the ground, appearing very agitated.

Abel then remembered that for ordinary packhorses, creatures like direwolves were their natural enemies. From their primal instincts, the packhorses feared these creatures. Fortunately, the little direwolf was just born, and with Abel's soothing presence, the slight fear subsided, and the two packhorses gradually calmed down.

Leading the two packhorses, with Abel holding the little direwolf, he didn't ride. Riding a horse in the forest was not a very safe activity in itself, and on top of that, the sky had slowly begun to darken. Although he had the packhorses, they could only walk back. Fortunately, the little direwolf's weight was so light for Abel that he could hold it comfortably in his arms without much effort.

As they walked, Abel felt the little direwolf's mouth approach his face, licking his cheek with its small tongue. He couldn't help but look down at the little direwolf.

A pair of clear, flawless eyes were looking at Abel. It turned out the little direwolf had opened its eyes. Abel looked into the direwolf's eyes and, at that moment, felt its dependence. He felt as if he had become everything to the little direwolf. This loyal creature, from the moment of its birth, had chosen its lifelong master.

Abel extended his other hand and placed it on the little direwolf's head. He recalled the Mount Strengthening Technique. Although he couldn't use Battle Qi to strengthen the little direwolf now, he could use the Mount Strengthening Technique to establish a soul-level connection with it.

Abel spoke strange orcish incantations, filled with praises to the Beast God. If anyone else were present, such words alone could get Abel executed by the human temple, assuming anyone could understand them. But here, in this desolate forest, Abel didn't care.

Most orc skills were imbued with reverence and awe for the gods. This was because orc skills were passed down by priests who believed in the Beast God, and the priests' missionary spirit was directly reflected in these skills.

As Abel's incantation continued, he felt a strange power passing through space. Accompanied by the hand he placed on the little direwolf's head while chanting, a green light emanated. Slowly, the green light grew larger, enveloping Abel and the little direwolf. Within the green light, Abel felt a weak soul's call. Gradually, this feeling intensified. The weak soul, with simple emotions of happiness, conveyed its love to Abel—a love so pure, without a trace of impurity.

Feeling this love, waves of emotion surged from the depths of Abel's soul. He responded to the weak soul with his own love. When the weak soul received his response, its joy instantly transmitted to Abel's soul.

The green light gradually faded, disappearing into the air. However, this spiritual communication did not cease. As long as Abel thought of the little direwolf beside him, he could immediately sense its thoughts.

Looking at the little direwolf, now soul-connected to him in his arms, Abel suddenly remembered he hadn't named it yet. What would be a good name? Looking at the direwolf's black fur, as if by fate, the first name that came to Abel's mind was Black Wind. He imagined the direwolf running like the wind when it grew up.

"Your name will be Black Wind from now on," Abel transmitted this thought to the little direwolf. The little direwolf seemed not to understand; Abel's thoughts were too complex for a newborn.

"Since you haven't objected, I'll decide on Black Wind for you," not sensing any denial from the little direwolf, Abel decisively settled on the name.

He walked back for a while longer and arrived at the previous battlefield. Seeing the werewolf on the ground, Abel remembered this was battle merit. If he left it here, how would his merit be counted? What if no one believed him?

Abel threw the werewolf's corpse onto one of the packhorses. He led the horse, holding the little Black Wind, and slowly made his way through the increasingly dark forest.

After walking for a while, Abel had to stop and make a torch from branches. He was lucky; there weren't many large beasts on this stretch of road. Apart from a few snakes that caused him some trouble, it took him several hours to finally get out of the forest.

When they reached the castle gates, the castle was different from usual. Torches were lit on the castle walls, and guards patrolled them ceaselessly.

"Who's there?" A guard on the wall spotted the figure in front of the castle and shouted.

Hearing the commotion, patrolling guards from all around ran towards them. Several arrows were already drawn taut, aimed at Abel.

"It's Abel. Open the gate and let me in." Abel held the torch closer to his face so the guards on the wall could see him more clearly.

"It's the young master!"

"Master Abel."

A chorus of different exclamations came from the walls. The heavy castle gate creaked open with a dull thud.

Abel led the two packhorses into the castle. As soon as he entered, he noticed the open space inside was filled with dense tents. His arrival caused people in these tents to peek out, followed by countless greetings directed at him.

"Greetings, young master!"

"Young Master Abel!"

"Master Abel!"

Abel looked closely; these were the territory's farmers. They had entered the castle to escape the orc patrols. The order had been issued when Abel left during the day.

Knight Marshall, clad in armor, was still awake. Abel's failure to return to the castle that night had worried him greatly. Upon careful inquiry, he learned Abel had left the castle to test a newly crafted weapon but hadn't returned by nightfall. The Knight Marshall had already dispatched several scouts to search, but there was no news.

When he adopted Abel, it was partly to ensure his castle had an heir and partly to help his good brother Bennett with his second son's situation. But, to be honest, in the short months since Abel's arrival, both the castle and Knight Marshall himself had benefited immensely because of Abel.

During the attack outside Harvest City, Knight Marshall acquired a weapon shop in the city. The weapons the Knight was currently equipped with were magic weapons forged by Abel. Furthermore, because Abel had become a Master Blacksmith, Knight Marshall's status in Harvest City had also risen. All these changes were brought about by Abel's arrival at Hari Castle.

Knight Marshall recalled all that Abel had done, making his potential disappearance even more agonizing. Just then, a commotion arose from within the castle. As he was about to go investigate, the steward, Linsey, hurried in.

"Master, Young Master Abel has returned," Steward Linsey said, somewhat out of breath. This usually dignified steward was rarely so flustered.

"He's back!" Knight Marshall strode out of his room. In the castle square, he saw Abel unloading a corpse from a packhorse onto the ground.

Knight Marshall approached and, upon seeing it, asked in shock, "How is there a werewolf's corpse?"

Looking up, Knight Marshall saw the little direwolf in Abel's arms and was even more astonished. Pointing at the direwolf, his voice trembling, he said, "Is that a direwolf cub? My heavens, it really is a direwolf cub! Has it already bonded with you?"

As a knight who had returned from the orc battlefield, Knight Marshall knew how rare direwolf cubs were. He was utterly astounded by Abel's late return, bringing back a direwolf cub and a werewolf's corpse.

Knight Marshall knew the preciousness of a direwolf cub better than anyone. The werewolf corpse appearing alongside the direwolf cub indicated that this werewolf was at least a Level 6 or higher Wolf Rider, a formidable opponent. Setting aside how difficult Wolf Riders were to kill, a Level 6 expert was not someone Abel could contend with. How could it have been killed?

Abel hadn't expected Knight Marshall's reaction to be so intense. The barrage of questions left him unsure how to answer. He could only first ask Steward Linsey, who had followed the Knight, to help prepare some sheep's milk for Black Wind.