Volume One: The Wild Boy Chapter Thirty-Four: The Big Calf and the Little Calf

The rules would never have withstood the next strike.

That massive figure swayed on the verge of collapse. In the end, the mighty warhammer that had always been his reliance became the final straw that broke the camel’s back. With a thunderous crash, it hit the ground, and he fell powerless beside it.

The monstrous gene within him seemed to melt away like snow under the sun, the black tinged with purple-red, wilting and dissipating, together with his formidable regenerative abilities, into the void between heaven and earth.

A hush fell over the scene. The guards were struck dumb with shock; even the few Lin clan worldwalkers hovering in the sky watching the battle furrowed their brows.

That strike seemed to pose a challenge to all of Brahma City—who among you dares to take the next blow?

Lin Changtian was not faring much better. Gasping for breath, he propped himself up on his blade, barely clinging to consciousness and strength. Seeing his weakness, the enemies who had been waiting for an opportunity to strike gathered together, forming a tight circle as they advanced on him.

Yet, in the midst of that dire predicament, Lin Changtian actually managed a laugh—wild and unrestrained, utterly heedless of the wolves circling around, eager for his fall.

He leaned his blade before him, clearly intent on fighting again.

This audacity chilled the ambitions of many. If even a powerhouse like the one just struck down could not escape death, who among these rabble would dare step forward to challenge the fate that awaited them? The tension in the square thickened once more.

But after all, there were still several worldwalkers in the sky—

Immortals descending to earth, untouched by dust.

The eldest among the worldwalkers stroked his beard thoughtfully as he gazed at Lin Changtian and asked, “That blade of yours—who taught you? Why does it resemble the techniques from the northern borderlands?”

Lin Changtian did not reply. He neither bantered as usual nor feigned weakness; instead, his eyes burned with unbridled fighting spirit—pure and intense.

That brazen defiance amused the old man. He halted his beard-stroking, and with a casual flick of his sleeve sent forth a blast of force, sending Lin Changtian flying dozens of meters, crashing into the ruins, silent and unmoving.

“Having dealt with a mere Zhang Cheng, do you now look down on us as well? For an ant, your survival instinct is woefully dull—how very entertaining,” the old man continued, tending to his beard, speaking to himself as if utterly unmoved by dispatching another "ant."

But the "ant" slowly rose once more, showing no trace of fear for the elder despite his brush with death. On the contrary, his fighting spirit burned all the fiercer. Though his body was hunched, ribs shattered, the black blade in his hand pointed even more unyieldingly forward, like a lone wolf after a long wait, locking eyes with its prey.

He flexed his joints, the cracking sound sharp in the silence; only pain could grant him clarity in this moment, blooming into one last lotus flower.

In the instant he brushed past death, Lin Changtian drew his blade once again. There was no flourish, no hint of swordplay—just a direct, honest killing intent as he charged the formation.

But he was simply too weak. Any guard could send him flying with a kick. He fell, charged, fell, charged—repeating this cycle countless times until he was an unrecognizable mess, truly resembling a wild wolf from the desolate wilds hurling itself at an army.

The soldiers looked on with mocking smiles, even putting down their weapons, forming a ring around Lin Changtian and kicking him about like a ball, until he finally landed at the feet of that Lin clan elder.

The elder remained indifferent, glancing at the nervous guards crowding around. At last, he spoke slowly: “You’ve all worked hard enough. A little entertainment is no crime. Worldwalkers don’t die so easily anyway. Continue.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd as they surged toward Lin Changtian. Though one could hardly call this entertainment, the thrill of trampling underfoot someone who had moments ago held their lives in his hands was pleasure beyond compare.

Such is ever the way of the unruly mob.

At the moment when death seemed certain, Lin Changtian suddenly reached out and yanked a fistful of the elder’s beard, tilting his head back and giving him a crooked smile as he mumbled, “You old fool, always stroking that mangy beard of yours. Here, let me save you the trouble—might as well pluck it all out myself.”

An uncanny silence fell. All those around the elder—worldwalkers and common soldiers alike—scattered instantly. Throughout the Central North, it was common knowledge that among the famed Three Elders of Brahma City, Lin Mingren prized his luxurious beard above all. Servants tending it dared not be careless; even the loss of a single hair could mean death or disfigurement—a fate tragically familiar to many.

Lin Changtian had just torn out a good dozen strands at least.

Lin Mingren’s expression went beyond mere rage; the celestial demeanor he had just displayed was utterly swept away. Gathering all his internal force, he unleashed it at Lin Changtian, determined to end this upstart’s life as an offering to his beard.

Yet Lin Mingren’s full-force blow was intercepted with casual ease. Hu Yong glanced at the grinning Lin Changtian and broke into a wide smile. “Kid, I like your attitude—why all the earlier pretense?”

Lin Changtian blinked innocently, “I’m nothing compared to you in the art of pretense, elder brother. How did I never realize you were one of the worldwalkers too—and so formidable at that?”

Hu Yong rapped Lin Changtian on the head with a hearty laugh.

Seeing the two so blatantly ignoring him, Lin Mingren, already seething from the loss of his beard, could no longer contain his fury. He roared at Hu Yong, “What nerve have you to stand in my way? Since when did Brahma City tolerate such filth to sully my rules?”

Hu Yong furrowed his brow, baffled at the old man’s barking. Did the fellow not realize that he had blocked his all-out strike with a single hand?

Lin Mingren’s face turned beet-red as he struggled to break free from Hu Yong’s grip, but his efforts were as futile as a stone sinking into the sea.

“Old man, why are you squirming like that? I’m not interested in your type. But looking at you now, it seems you’re just another old scoundrel who bullies the young,” Hu Yong mocked.

Ignoring the jeers, Lin Mingren poured all his energy into his force, conjuring a giant hand behind him and striking down at the two.

Hu Yong let out a snort of laughter. “So one of the so-called Three Undying Elders of Brahma City has finally reached the false-god realm. But at your age, you’ll never touch the true domain of the God in the Cave.”

With that, he simply raised his leg and kicked, shattering Lin Mingren’s energy armor and sending him hurtling away.

Without sparing Lin Mingren another glance, Hu Yong gazed into the depths of Brahma City, his brow knit with concern. Muttering to himself, “If we don’t leave now and that one shows up, things will truly get troublesome.”

Without waiting for a reply, he swept up Lin Changtian and Chen Mo, soaring into the sky, leaving behind only the stunned and terrified Lin clan.