Entering the Magical Beast Mountain Range

About a week passed like this. After bidding farewell to steward Old Hiri and the reluctant Wharton, Bolan officially began his journey of cultivation—the beginning of his legendary path!

Half a month later, a youth entered the outskirts of the Magical Beast Mountain Range. He wore a fitted white outfit, his long white hair drifting despite the lack of wind. With a longsword strapped to his back, he looked exceptionally dashing, though his face still appeared somewhat youthful. Unlike the Baruch Clan's ancestors, who all favored heavy weapons, and unlike his younger brother Linley, whose future weapon would be the Black Obsidian Heavy Sword weighing several thousand jin, Bolan preferred a lighter longsword. After all, few youths from China could resist the heroic spirit of wielding a sword in the wind and vanquishing demons beneath heaven and earth!

Though he had only entered the Magical Beast Mountain Range two days ago, Bolan already looked somewhat bedraggled. Not only did he have to deal with magical beasts that could leap out from anywhere, but more importantly, the most terrifying thing in the Magical Beast Mountain Range was not the magical beasts—it was people!!!

As a few sayings from his previous life went, the most dangerous people were not the ones who looked imposing and powerful. When traveling the martial world, one had to watch out for three kinds of people: women, the elderly, and children. These three types most easily aroused others' sympathy. Just yesterday, Bolan had personally witnessed a woman kill two burly men in retaliation. It had been an impressive sight, but Bolan, watching from a nearby tree, had broken out in a cold sweat.

If he had been in her place, completely unguarded, could he have avoided that sword aimed at his throat?

No, Bolan told himself. This incident had also made him keenly realize the cruelty of this world!

After finding a relatively safe spot and eating a little dried rations, he entered the magical beast forest without hesitation. Once inside, the light grew dimmer and dimmer, yet not a single magical beast could be seen. All he could sense was the faint smell of decay wafting through the air, somewhat pungent.

Suddenly, a wolf spewing flames sprang out from the side. It was a rank-three magical beast, a Fire Wolf. Unlike Wind Wolves, which lived in packs, Fire Wolves generally acted alone. Seeing that Bolan was alone and that he did not radiate the powerful aura those people possessed, this old wolf, hungry for a long time, set its sights on him.

Faced with the Fire Wolf charging out so suddenly, Bolan was startled as well. Once he reacted, he twisted to the side and evaded the fireball it spat out.

When its fireball failed to injure Bolan, the Fire Wolf suddenly realized it had provoked someone it should not have. It hurriedly turned and fled.

"Trying to run? I was just getting tired of dried rations. Stay and be my dinner," Bolan said with a smile!

He immediately stepped forward, drew the longsword from his back, and slashed once. The Fire Wolf was directly cleaved in two.

Half an hour later, the Fire Wolf was fully roasted. It probably never imagined that one day it would end up over a fire, roasted for someone to eat. Setting aside this unlucky Fire Wolf for the moment, Bolan, who had eaten dried rations for several days, finally smelled the aroma of meat. He tore off a chunk of thigh meat and wolfed it down.

"Not bad. It smells great! It's been so long since I last had roasted meat," Bolan sighed.

The last time he had eaten it was when Linley had hunted a pheasant to tame Bebe. That had been half a year ago. "I wonder how my second brother is doing," Bolan muttered worriedly.

Suddenly, a strange sound nearby startled Bolan out of his thoughts. Perhaps the roasted meat smelled too good, because a pack of Wind Wolves had been drawn over.

By the time Bolan reacted, the Wind Wolves had already surrounded him.

He surveyed the Wind Wolves surrounding him. There were more than twenty of them, all rank-three magical beasts, while the leading alpha wolf was a rank-four magical beast. "Perfect. I've just eaten, so I can stretch my muscles a little," Bolan said calmly.

Holding his longsword, he stared at the alpha wolf before him. Its entire body was bluish-gray, and it was roughly the size of a lion from his previous life. Then one Wind Wolf at the side could no longer hold back and charged straight at Bolan. Bolan held his sword in one hand without transforming. With a single swing, he cleaved the charging Wind Wolf in two. It was clearly dead beyond doubt.

Seeing their companion die did not frighten off the pack. Instead, they bared their fangs, seeming even a little excited. Then all the Wind Wolves charged forward.

Perfect for some practice, Bolan thought. As a peak rank-six warrior, dealing with a group of rank-three Wind Wolves was simply too easy. With that thought, he slashed his longsword at the two wolves that had already rushed before him. Before long, seven or eight Wind Wolves lay dead on the ground, while Bolan had suffered a few scratches from letting his guard down.

This won't do. It's taking too long, and the commotion is too great. It wouldn't be fun if it attracted higher-ranking magical beasts. With that thought, Bolan flicked his longsword and charged toward the alpha wolf. Every Wind Wolf the alpha wolf called over to block him was cut down by Bolan in a single strike.

Seeing Bolan rush before it, the alpha wolf's fur instantly stood on end. It stretched out a wolf claw to meet him.

"Sword One." Bolan softly uttered. The alpha wolf, fierce only a moment ago, was instantly split down the middle. Foul-smelling blood sprayed out like a fountain, splashing across the battlefield. When the surrounding wolves saw their alpha die, none dared step forward again. They tucked their tails and fled from this nightmare of a place.