Chapter Ninety-Four: Over the desolate fields the western sun sinks low; in the tall woods, returning birds beat their graceful wings.

As the desolate plains faded into the sunset and returning birds skimmed the high woods on their wings, Han Moyi soon noticed that the white wolf was different. Its eyes were unexpectedly humanlike, wary and curious as they fixed on him.

Just when Han Moyi was close to giving out, the white wolf moved. A low rumble rolled out of its throat, and one of its forepaws pointed toward a direction behind it, as if trying to convey something.

After a long moment, the white wolf pointed again, first at Han Moyi and then at the horse behind him, all the while growling softly and repeatedly, its forepaw still indicating the same direction in the rear.

This time, Han Moyi seemed to understand what it meant. Seeing that the wolf bore no hostility, he lowered the Minghong Demon Blade and said, “Do you mean for me to ride the horse and follow you to a place?”

The words had barely left his mouth before he let out a self-mocking laugh. He thought, “I must be out of my mind, actually talking to a wolf.”

What happened next left Han Moyi dumbfounded.

After hearing him out, the white wolf gave a slight nod, then even shot him a look as though he were an idiot.

Han Moyi’s face darkened at once. Of course, he understood the meaning behind that glance.

The wolf might as well have been saying, “Who says wolves can’t understand human speech? I understand perfectly well.”

Seeing the white wolf nod, Han Moyi had nothing to say. After all, he was a man surrounded by wolves.

When circumstances are under the eaves, one must bow the head. Knowing the times makes a hero.

As Han Moyi consoled himself with this thought, he untied the horse’s reins. But the horse seemed to have been frightened senseless; no matter how he handled it, it refused to move.

With no other choice, Han Moyi looked back at the white wolf. The wolf again flashed him a look of clear disgust, but then it gave a low growl. Immediately, a giant wolf the size of a horse emerged from the darkness and ran over.

The white wolf growled once more, and the giant wolf instantly crouched low.

“You mean I should ride that?” Han Moyi asked in astonishment, his mouth hanging open.

The white wolf shot him a glance, but still nodded.

A little less than half an hour later, beneath the moonlight over the desert, the wolf pack raced northwest under the white wolf’s lead. Riding the giant wolf, Han Moyi clung desperately to the Minghong Demon Blade, terrified of being thrown off.

Perhaps it was the white wolf’s idea of a joke. It gave a low cry, and the giant wolf leaped at once. Han Moyi on its back was naturally hurled into the air. Before he could even react, the giant wolf caught him steadily again.

This time, Han Moyi could not hold it in any longer. He shouted at the white wolf ahead, “Brother White Wolf, can we please stop with these tricks? I get car sick—no, wolf sick!”

Yet somehow his words only angered the white wolf again. It gave several short, urgent growls, and Han Moyi could clearly feel the giant wolf gathering force beneath him.

Sure enough, the giant wolf began its trick again, flinging Han Moyi hard into the air and then catching him at the very instant before he hit the ground. After several rounds of this, Han Moyi had gone deathly pale, and only then did the white wolf give another low growl and spare him.

After about an hour, the wolf’s speed finally began to ease.

Suddenly, Han Moyi’s gaze was drawn to a dark object ahead.

It was still smoking, and the air around it reeked terribly. Only when they drew close did the white wolf come to a stop.

Han Moyi dismounted from the giant wolf and, upon seeing what lay there, frowned deeply. The black, smoking object was actually a vehicle—more precisely, a car that had burned down to a wreck.

While Han Moyi was still bewildered, another urging growl sounded by his ear.

He turned toward the white wolf and froze completely. In the moonlight, he could see clearly that not far from the wolf’s paws lay a person.

It was a woman in leather clothes, her body covered in blood and grime. Cracks of dried blood split the corners of her lips, and she was still unconscious. What Han Moyi never expected was that he actually knew her.

Under the moonlight, in her leather outfit, who else could it be but Ma Ruobing?

Seeing that the woman lying on the ground was Ma Ruobing, Han Moyi could not care less about the unpleasant encounter they had once had at the Northern Desert Inn. He hurried forward to check her injuries.

At first, Han Moyi had thought Ma Ruobing had somehow made a mistake while driving, causing the vehicle to overturn and catch fire. But after checking her over, he realized the matter was nothing like what he had imagined, because the wounds on her back were not caused by the car rolling over and burning, but by a severe blade injury.

When Han Moyi bent down, he could not help drawing in a sharp breath. There was a long knife wound across Ma Ruobing’s back, stretching from her right shoulder all the way to her back. It was two or three inches long, and so deep that the flesh had turned outward, the white bone almost visible. The desert wind lifted the yellow sand, and some of the finer grains had already drifted into the wound.

Taking a deep breath, Han Moyi shifted his gaze to Ma Ruobing’s face. Her face was also smeared with blood and sand, her delicate brows knit tightly, whether from pain or for some other reason.

Fortunately, aside from the wound on her back, Han Moyi found no other injuries on her body.

As though sensing someone nearby, Ma Ruobing forced her eyes open. Her lips moved faintly, but she was too weak and dehydrated for Han Moyi to make out what she was saying.

After thinking it over, Han Moyi gently helped her sit up, then bent closer to hear her better.

At last, when Han Moyi had lowered his head so far that his ear was nearly against Ma Ruobing’s face, he could barely make out what she was saying.

What Ma Ruobing kept repeating was simple: two words, over and over again.

Ruoxue. Ruoxue.

Hearing this, Han Moyi was jolted all over, and a sudden realization struck him.

That’s right. If something had happened to Ma Ruobing here, then what about Ma Ruoxue? The two sisters had left the Northern Desert Inn together.

Han Moyi sprang to his feet and ran all the way to the burned-out vehicle that was still smoking on its own. In a panic, he searched inside.

He was truly afraid he would find a charred corpse in that car, but fortunately, he found nothing at all.

He ran away from the vehicle and searched the surrounding area for a long while, but still found no sign of Ma Ruoxue.

Han Moyi’s strange behavior left the wolf pack at a loss. One by one, they stared at him with green-glinting eyes, and even the white wolf did the same.

When Han Moyi returned to Ma Ruobing’s side, she had once again fallen unconscious. Seeing her cracked lips, Han Moyi quickly took the waterskin meant for the horse from his pack. After a moment’s thought, he switched it out for the one he used himself.

After giving Ma Ruobing some water, her complexion improved a great deal, though she still looked far from well.

Looking east, Han Moyi saw the sky already beginning to pale. It would probably be another half hour before dawn, which meant there was very little time left for Ma Ruobing—or perhaps very little time left for Han Moyi himself.

Han Moyi laid Ma Ruobing flat on the ground. Her wound had nearly stuck to her clothes, and in such an emergency he did not think twice before stripping off the leather jacket she wore.

Once he removed it, Han Moyi froze.

Beneath the leather jacket, Ma Ruobing was wearing a white shirt, and by now that shirt had been dyed blackish red by her own blood.

“Damn it. What kind of beast would do this to a woman? If I ever run into him, I’ll cut him down myself.”

Han Moyi cursed in anger, and when he looked at Ma Ruobing again, his expression had softened with pity. Whatever grudge had existed between them at the Northern Desert Inn had now vanished without a trace.

Looking at the long knife wound on her back and the yellow sand clinging to it, Han Moyi frowned slightly. Coming from a family of physicians, he knew very well that if Ma Ruobing’s injury was not treated in time, she would likely be seeing the King of Hell.

Without the slightest hesitation, Han Moyi immediately took out a shirt from his pack, tore it into two-inch squares, dampened them with water from the waterskin, and carefully wiped the wound on Ma Ruobing’s back.

Though his movements were gentle, Ma Ruobing still could not help letting out soft, pained groans from time to time.

When Han Moyi finished cleaning the wound, a ring of fine cold sweat had broken out on her forehead. After a moment’s hesitation, and seeing that she remained unconscious, he lifted his sleeve and wiped it away for her.

Just as Han Moyi was preparing to leave things to fate, the white wolf came over again. It still growled low in its throat, turning its head toward a direction behind it.

“Do you mean you want to take me somewhere else again?” Having learned from earlier, Han Moyi understood the white wolf’s meaning very quickly this time.

Sure enough, the moment he finished speaking, the white wolf nodded.

Han Moyi said nothing more. He gently laid Ma Ruobing back on the ground and rose, about to walk toward the giant wolf from before.

Another low “woof” sounded. Turning back, Han Moyi saw the white wolf itself lower its body.

Looking at the wolf’s somewhat slight frame, Han Moyi grinned. “I say, Brother White Wolf, can that little body of yours really carry a full-grown man like me?”

“Woof!” The white wolf barked loudly in displeasure.

What happened next made Han Moyi nearly lose his footing and fall flat on the ground.

The white wolf shook itself, and a miraculous sight occurred: its body began to grow at a speed visible to the eye.

When Han Moyi finally reacted, the white wolf was already clearly much larger than the black giant wolf from before, even bigger than an ordinary horse-drawn carriage by quite a bit. What made Han Moyi even more unnerved was the teasing look in the wolf’s eyes as it gazed down at him from above, as if to say, “Look at you, so inexperienced. I can get even bigger than this.”

Fortunately, the white wolf had no intention of tormenting him any further. It slowly crouched down in front of Han Moyi, and after gritting his teeth, Han Moyi leaped onto its back.

Once Han Moyi had steadied himself, the white wolf took off in the direction it had pointed to earlier. It was incredibly fast, almost more than twice as fast as the giant wolf.

Listening to the whistling wind by his ear, Han Moyi’s legs trembled on the wolf’s back. After a while, he could no longer bear it and said in a shaking, humble voice, “Brother White Wolf, could you go a little slower? My heart really can’t take it!”

In answer, the white wolf only sped up further. The dunes in the desert became rougher and rougher beneath them, while the wind at his ear roared like thunder.

It took a full half hour before the white wolf finally stopped.

The moment it came to rest, Han Moyi jumped off its back and bent over beside a dune, vomiting violently.

That’s right. He had gotten wolf sick.