The only reason I understood what everyone around me was saying was because I had been here for a while now; every time I returned to the Rabinovich residence, the Madam would utter the same phrase: "You're home."

This was exactly what the people surrounding me were saying now—it seemed they all recognized this black wolf.

The surprise etched on the faces of the onlookers eclipsed their fear, freezing them where they stood. No one rushed forward to aid Dà Xiōng.

But there was no way I could abandon Dà Xiōng. I lifted the teacher's hunting rifle I held, aiming squarely at the black wolf.

Yet, this wolf was undeniably different from the others. It seemed to have sensed the presence of gunpowder, instantly lifting its head to fix its gaze upon me.

I watched as every hair on its body bristled, its eyes glowing a startling crimson. From its mouth, bristling with fangs, hissed plumes of white vapor that mingled with the falling drizzle, exuding a powerful sense of raw energy.

Though it was merely an animal, I could feel the intense, suffocating anger churning within it.

What fueled such fury? Was it because Dà Xiōng had killed one of its own?

I glanced around. There was more than one wolf lying dead in the pooling blood; it seemed illogical for it to be enraged over one common wolf.

In those few seconds of confrontation between me and the black wolf, Dà Xiōng proved he was no pushover. He found an opening, let out a loud shout, slammed a kick into the black wolf’s belly, sending it sprawling aside, and then struggled to his feet.

Struck by Dà Xiōng’s kick, the black wolf emitted a low growl, rolled once on the ground, scrambled back up, and barked furiously at Dà Xiōng, its exposed fangs enough to chill the blood.

Seeing it prepare to lunge at Dà Xiōng again, I shifted the rifle’s muzzle toward the wolf, tensing my finger, and crack—I pulled the trigger.

But precisely as I fired, a dark shadow lunged at me from the side.

I was jolted by the impact of the shadow, causing the rifle barrel to swing wide of its target; the bullet struck the ground, kicking up a spray of sparks.

The black wolf, startled by the near miss, leaped backward, surprisingly soaring onto the roof of a nearby building.

I felt a flicker of astonishment at the wolf's explosive leap. Turning, I looked at the dark figure that had collided with me—it was the woman in black.

The woman’s pale hand gripped the barrel of my rifle, and she spoke in halting Chinese: "Didn't you see? These wolves show no intention of harming the humans. Not a single person here has been bitten to death by a wolf, nor have any domestic animals been harmed. Those who were injured were the ones who actively engaged the pack."

At her words, I surveyed the scene again. Indeed, no one lay fallen on the ground.

Furthermore, the pack hadn't launched a full assault on the villagers; many wolves were simply standing on the rooftops, silently observing the crowd.

I mused that if such a multitude of wolves had attacked the villagers en masse, the outcome would have been unimaginable.

The behavior of these wolves was certainly peculiar. The ancients believed wolves possessed an intelligence rivaling that of foxes.

Perhaps this stemmed from the perpetual depth in a wolf’s gaze, an inscrutable quality that defied easy reading.

I recalled the essay The Wolf by Pu Songling, which I studied as a child; I had been utterly stunned by the creature’s perceived wisdom even then.

Seeing the strange actions of these wolves now only solidified my belief that these beasts must have a specific, underlying purpose.

It wasn't about food, nor was it vengeance. It was born of pure, incandescent anger.

André and the village chief had been running ahead of us, but they had vanished mid-way. They reappeared now, jogging up from behind our group.

Then, the chief shouted something in Russian to the cluster of people still struggling with the wolves.

Upon hearing him, those individuals reacted with profound surprise and promptly lowered the weapons they held.

The wolves that had been fighting the humans, seeing their opponents stand down, let out a few sharp barks on the spot but made no further move to attack.

Liang Qian gasped for breath beside me. "It seems these wolves really didn't come here to attack the village."

Dà Xiōng also shouted, "Hey! This is seriously weird, what the heck is going on?"

[Character Name/Symbol] stood to the side with his hands clasped behind his back. He hadn't lifted a hand from the start; it seemed he had long ago perceived the strangeness of these wolves.

As we stared, bewildered, at the bizarre conduct of the wolves, the black wolf on the rooftop suddenly emitted a high-pitched, piercing howl toward the sky.

Silence fell over everyone as they gazed at the powerfully built black wolf on the roof.

At that moment, the wolves on the roof and those on the ground seemed to respond, all lifting their voices in synchronized howls toward the heavens.

The wolf cries sounded tinged with a mixture of misery and hauteur, and set against the swirling torrent of the storm, they possessed a particular, desolate bleakness.

The black wolf howled exactly three times, then leaped from the roof, landing smoothly on the road below.

The wolves from the rooftops followed suit, jumping down and walking slowly forward in the wake of the leading black wolf.

The wolves mingled within the crowd also joined the main formation. Even the one Dà Xiōng had kicked against the door slowly dragged itself up, limping to follow behind.

Dà Xiōng let out an "Eh," then chuckled. "Heh, I didn't expect this brute to be so durable; didn't even manage to kick it dead."

I gestured for him to quiet down and silently watched the pack proceed toward the central plaza.

The black wolf led the way, followed by fifty or sixty smaller white wolves—perhaps comprising all the wolves of the steppes.

They followed the black wolf with complete obedience, and the onlookers cleared a path for them.

Although nobody knew the destination or purpose of the wolves at the central plaza, it was clear the village chief had forbidden any further conflict between the people and the wolves.

Led by the black wolf, the pack stopped before three cages set up near the central tribal post.

The corpse of the Sea Maiden still lay motionless inside the cages, though the rain had washed the black scales, making them appear slightly pallid.

The wolves halted before the cages. Seven or eight hounds that had been tethered around the plaza, barking incessantly just moments ago, fell silent upon the sight of the black wolf, collapsing onto the ground, trembling.

The black wolf moved to the front of its pack, approached the three cages, and sniffed the body of the Sea Maiden in each one.

When it reached the third cage, it paused for only a second before letting out a long, skyward howl, sounding utterly heartbroken, as if weeping.

Hearing this, the surrounding wolves joined in with their own howls, the sound far more tragic than before.

Even the chained hounds nearby whimpered softly in response.

The people, drenched by the rain, watched the strange procession of wolves, completely bewildered.

Liang Qian’s face was pale with cold as she asked me, "Strange. Could one of those Sea Maidens have been one of their masters or something? What is going on?"

I shook my head, indicating I had no idea.

At that moment, André, standing nearby, sighed, a hint of sorrow clouding his eyes.

Sensing he might know something of the background, I moved closer and asked him what the matter was.

André shook his head slowly. "Perhaps Lauren smelled her master’s scent. It seems Zoya finally made it to Relic Island."

"Zoya? Who is that?" I pressed further.