Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Sixteen: Yu Baili, Forever a Legend!

When the Age of Awakening swept through the Northern Territories, countless bandits underwent their own transformation. In the wake of the destruction along the northern borders, the wolfish ambitions of many became brazenly apparent. Yet, as events unfolded, the bandits soon realized that these so-called Awakened, when faced with the relentless onslaught of modern weaponry, were pitifully fragile. Thus, to navigate the growing chaos of the North, Zhang Yi had long sought to cooperate with the civilized sanctuaries beyond the frontier, hoping to barter for more advanced arms. Yet every time he discussed the matter with Yu Wenlong, the latter would simply smile dismissively, as if the technological prowess beyond the borders was beneath his contempt. To Zhang Yi, this only confirmed Yu Wenlong’s obstinate arrogance and further strengthened his resolve to supplant him.

But when this godlike power unfolded before Zhang Yi’s very eyes, all the confidence he had painstakingly forged through a decade of life-and-death struggles crumbled to dust in a single instant.

“So the frog at the bottom of the well was me all along,” Zhang Yi murmured in a daze, standing rooted to the spot. Behind him, the terrified bandit troops scrambled for their lives, not sparing a glance for their leader’s fate, howling like ghosts and fleeing without a trace of the courage they’d once had to charge through gunfire, ant-like yet willing to stake their lives.

In the end, only Zhang Yi and Lin Changtian remained motionless upon the battlefield, while the rest—truly like ants—lay mingled with the mud and earth, their bodies forever still. The landscape transformed, and silence reclaimed the world.

From start to finish, Yu Wenlong’s face remained impassive, betraying neither the joy of victory nor the shadows of his past. He regarded Zhang Yi and Lin Changtian with the detached air of a god contemplating the fate of mortals. This seemingly domineering celestial descended, laying a hand on Zhang Yi’s quivering shoulder, brushing away tears shed for reasons unknown. After a long, silent exchange of gazes, Yu Wenlong finally turned to Lin Changtian. “Honestly, I once thought you were merely Second Master’s pawn, a ploy to topple me. Yet beneath my domain of energy you remain unscathed—clearly, you’re not someone Zhang Yi could easily manipulate.”

Lin Changtian gave an awkward chuckle. “Truth be told, Chief Yi of Mount Yi is absurdly strong, and with Yu Baili nowhere to be found, I suppose all I can do is play the fool and go along with you, sir.” With that, he forced a smile and turned to Yu Wenlong. “Boss, you jest. I’m just lucky, that’s all. I barely escaped from Greenhill as a child, and then got caught up in all this, forced along by Second Master—no, by that old thief Zhang Yi!”

With sudden righteous indignation, Lin Changtian hurried to Yu Wenlong’s side, pointing at Zhang Yi and cursing, “You villain, ruthless and unjust! You force the good to commit evil, coerce the loyal into treachery, and push the virtuous into ruin!”

Yu Wenlong glanced oddly at Zhang Yi. “Is this your usual style?”

Zhang Yi’s eyes were lifeless, but he managed a feeble reply: “This has nothing to do with me. Must be his previous profession.”

Lin Changtian scratched his head. “Well, maybe not the last one. Let’s try that again. Zhang Yi, for a man as heartless and disloyal as you, naturally our chief must uphold justice and destroy you!” He stole a glance at Yu Wenlong, saw only placid indifference, and, rolling his eyes, pointed one finger skyward and the other at Zhang Yi. “Of course, I will never share the same sky with evil!”

Had Chen Ziliang been present, he would have praised the performance, memorizing these lines for the next time he needed to act the hero.

Yu Wenlong grew impatient with Lin Changtian’s antics and turned to Zhang Yi. “We’ve come to this point—one of us must die. Any last words?”

Zhang Yi raised his head, face ashen. “A true man does not live long under another’s heel. If death is what awaits, so be it. My only regret is that so many loyal men who followed me for years died because of my own folly. I ask only that you spare a thought to gather their bodies. Blame everything on me, but don’t make things harder for the families left behind on the mountain. Those women and children pose no threat. That’s all. Do what you must.”

Yu Wenlong nodded, his hand pressing upon Zhang Yi’s crown—one motion, and the southern tyrant of the North would be no more.

“Wait just a moment!” Lin Changtian interrupted with a forced smile. Yu Wenlong didn’t turn, only replied coolly: “If you’ve grown a conscience and wish to plead for him, don’t bother. Once he’s dead, you’re next.”

Lin Changtian blinked. “Not exactly pleading for him, but if there’s a chance to spare us both, I’d take it. Let me mention someone—Yu Baili. Do you know him? Perhaps you two are even kin.”

Yu Wenlong’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never heard of such a person. Get out of my sight. If you keep wasting my time, you won’t even get a chance for last words.” With that, he raised his hand, ready to strike Zhang Yi down.

“How many times do I have to say it? Dropping my name in the North works, but you have to say it right! Next time just say you’re under the protection of the Tiger-King, understand?”

A figure in white arrived as if by magic, turning crisis into safety in the span of a breath.

Yu Baili, sword slung at his side, sat cross-legged atop the dewdrop-blue sky, humming a tune, the rising sun behind him, an air of effortless grace about him. Seeing Yu Baili so at ease, Lin Changtian’s bravado surged. Tilting his nose to the sky, he pointed at Yu Wenlong. “Old man, I’m talking to you! Ever heard of the Tiger-King of the North? Scared yet? Let my people go—now!”

Yu Wenlong nearly laughed in exasperation but ignored Lin Changtian, calling up instead to Yu Baili. “Tiger-King? Never heard of such riff-raff. But you’re young—don’t throw your life away for some misplaced sense of loyalty.”

Yu Baili grinned widely. He truly adored the North, for even in the most cunning games, there remained a core of unvarnished honesty. Of course, that didn’t stop him from wanting to teach this self-proclaimed ‘god’ a lesson—especially since Lin Changtian was already doubled over in laughter at Yu Wenlong’s failed posturing.

Yu Wenlong tossed Zhang Yi aside. A surge of azure light burst forth, his entire domain of energy condensed, launching straight at Yu Baili. Yet the Tiger-King of the North remained utterly unhurried, not even bothering to draw his blade. He yawned, as though a celestial sitting atop the rising sun. Curiously, Yu Wenlong’s mighty energy dissolved before him like snow in sunlight, dissipating inch by inch until it reached Yu Wenlong’s chest and exploded in a shower of blood.

Yu Baili gazed up at the sky and murmured, “You see those bandits as ants; so too do I see you as an ant. But who sees me as an ant? You parade as a god, yet are as frail as any mortal.”

Zhang Yi and Lin Changtian stared in shock at the battle that had ended in an instant. Seeing the mighty Yu Wenlong perish so utterly, Zhang Yi suddenly realized that perhaps, beyond his own imaginings, Yu Wenlong too had been nothing but a frog at the bottom of a well.