10

Little Fly rushed into the third-floor classroom, hurriedly pushing open a window and looking out.

More and more students had entered the classroom, eager to crowd around the window, anxiously asking,"Can you see anything?"

"Ah, I see them!" a voice exclaimed, catching everyone's attention.

Black shadows pulled at the uneasy atmosphere, steadily closing in on the academy. It seemed the entire academy was tightly besieged.

"Wolves, the wolves are here!" a student responded, nervously watching and distinguishing the shadows in the dark. These terror wolves were massive, showing remarkable intelligence. They didn't attack recklessly but instead closed the circle with a sinister, slow rhythm.

Outside the academy's wooden fence, the low growls of beasts created an air of menace. The gathered wolves' eyes gleamed with hunger, silently surrounding the gate. Their movements were swift and cunning, like ghosts approaching without a sound. The wild glint in their eyes, the dripping fangs, the dense fur looking unusually hard in the moonlight, and their tightly tucked tails made them seem like warriors ready to charge.

"Are all those shadows wolves?" Little Fly asked worriedly, his eyes anxiously scanning the forest's edge. Shadows appeared one after another, like nightmares emerging from the night's womb.

A girl gasped,"Look, their eyes are red! Aren't wolves' eyes supposed to be green? It's so scary!"

"Whatever they are, please don't come in!" another girl prayed, clutching her chest.

At the edge of their vision, those night phantoms stood momentarily in the darkness, then quickly weaved through, their outlines blurred and eerie, moving swiftly towards the school.

Looking at the shadows outside the wooden fence, some villagers optimistically said,"The fence is high, built by the principal and us, one post at a time. It's sturdy; the terror wolves can't get in!"

"They're as big as calves; I doubt the fence will hold them!" another villager countered.

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Just as all the viewers were anxiously waiting, the broadcast suddenly paused, causing boos and curses to erupt. In a major live broadcast, such an interruption was a severe blunder that could get a host lambasted. But Caron had nothing left to lose."Dear viewers, it's not your broadcast equipment or network that's faulty. The next moment could be a bloodbath or an extraordinary turnaround. Now, I need your vote. Do you choose 1—the terror wolves' feast or 2—the boy's narrow escape?"

Even Mr. Sebastian nodded slightly, acknowledging Caron's experience.

"Dear viewers, the next five minutes are your chance to strike it rich. The odds for the boy's comeback are now 2:8. If you seize the moment, you could be a winner!"

But his words provoked boos."That scrawny boy couldn't even take on one terror wolf, let alone win! You liar, such a black heart!" a heavily made-up woman ranted.

Mr. Sebastian watched the audience's bets online, and soon, the odds for the boy's victory changed to 1:9. Clearly, most people were betting on the wolves killing the boy. Caron successfully stirred the audience's attention, even if it was anger.

"Well done, you've riled up the audience. Good job!" Mr. Sebastian secretly gave Caron a thumbs up.

Caron resumed the broadcast, and all viewers eagerly awaited the bloodbath. Some mothers covered their children's eyes, but their own eyes widened in anticipation.

The last villagers and students crowded at the school gate, anxiously waiting. Fear and unease were written on every face, as if an invisible pressure filled the air. A bell tolled, marking the start of the brutal game.

Teachers tried to hurry everyone inside. A little girl clung tightly to her mother's hand, tears glistening in her eyes. Her mother held her close, her voice trembling. Many villagers didn't dare to look up, unable to face the impending horror. Some students bit their fingers, the approaching howls sending chills down everyone's spines.

Outside the crowd, a few elderly villagers knelt, praying softly, refusing to enter the building.

The principal grew increasingly anxious,"Protect the villagers! I need some of you to help me protect the villagers!" Teachers and young villagers with crude weapons formed a defensive formation. Their soul-deep roars and the thudding of weapons against terror wolves echoed continuously. Each strike seemed a battle against fate, sweat and blood mingling in a tragic scene.

Behind them, elderly villagers linked hands to form a second protective ring. They couldn't hide their fear, many closing their eyes, only groaning in pain when sharp wolf fangs tore flesh. Their trembling hands held firm, creating a human shield. In the center, students, women, and children quickly entered the school, many too scared to look up, tears silently streaming down their faces. Every action and the silent strength felt eerie and unusual.

But some children were still dragged from the line, and their mothers desperately tried to save them, only to be overwhelmed by terror wolves themselves. Praying villagers also became the easiest prey. The night's wind carried the heavy scent of blood and the howls of terror wolves. Bloodstains dotted the ground, showing the battle's cruelty and mercilessness.

Many live stream viewers wondered aloud,"How can these people maintain such strange order and calm?" Their voices echoed on the screen, trying to pierce the mystery.

"Do they face such terrible situations often?" one viewer asked, eyes glued to the live feed, filled with confusion and unease.

"Do they have a mysterious faith teaching them to face death silently?" another viewer muttered, as if talking to themselves.

But more viewers focused on the boy, Alex. A terror wolf had perfectly captured his attention, leaping around him, while the real killer approached from behind, suddenly lunging, aiming for Alex's throat, claws ready to tear him apart.

Alex stood there, completely unaware of the cunning predator that had finally found the perfect moment to strike. The cold glint in the hunter's eyes marked the start of a flawless attack.

"Is the boy about to be torn apart?" The viewers held their breath, hearts racing as if they could hear the pounding within their chests. The air was thick with tension, as though time itself had come to a halt.

Just then, Alex moved, no longer the dazed figure from moments before.

His movements were swift as the wind, like an agile leopard.

"Thud"

"Splash"

The sound of a sharp weapon piercing flesh, followed by the spray of blood. Somehow, the roles of hunter and prey had switched.

Everyone thought this kid knew nothing, but Alex had spent years gathering herbs in the mountains and had seen wolves, foxes, and bears. He saw through the terror wolf's tricks, playing along until the moment it thought it had the advantage.

In that instant, Alex's spear changed to aim the soft underside of the wolf's jaw.

There is no chance to alter its trajectory in the air.

Using the wolf's own weight, the spear pierced its massive head.

Alex followed through with the momentum, drawing a half-circle in the air and smashing down heavily, striking the skull of the performing wolf.

A crack echoed, a howl followed, and both huge terror wolves collided and fell motionless.

This sudden turn of events took everyone by surprise. The other terror wolves were the first to react, barking furiously at Alex as if cursing him in a language he couldn't understand.

Some gamblers behind their screens began regretting not betting on the boy, while those who won lamented not wagering more. They have no difference from Earthlings.

But Alex wasn't elated by his victory.

His instincts kept him alert, realizing the situation was far from simple. These creatures looked like rare mountain terror wolves, but the faint dark aura surrounding them and the vague stench of decay and death gave off an eerie feeling.

Even the two wolves with smashed skulls struggled, as if something inside them was trying to break free.

They were not ordinary creatures, and Alex knew little about them!

Meanwhile, Dan was getting more excited, swinging his wooden stick at the creatures' heads and shouting. The stick sliced through the air like lightning, and even when the wolves moved, the stick still struck their bodies with a dull thud.

Under the bonfire's light, the monsters howled in pain, slashing with their claws in retaliation. Yet, Dan's stick kept hitting their vital points on the waist and back until they fell motionless.

Dan, like a flood bursting through a dam, charged at the wolf pack, swinging his crude stick.

"Aim for the forehead, stab the eyes, and get the melon from the back!

See that, girls? Dan is the best!"

His ferocious attack caused four or five wolves to scatter, some fleeing, others writhing in pain. Cheers erupted from behind the gate, and his eyes glowed with excitement. Dan relished the adrenaline rush, feeling proud.

"This feels great! I've never shown off like this in front of girls—I mean, everyone," he thought.

The wolves pretended to be scared, retreating deliberately, but not fleeing entirely. They stopped at a distance, barking provocatively, luring Dan to chase.

"See that, girls?

They're scared of me! Now you know who the village hero is!"

Dan thought excitedly.

"I bet Jane will agree to a date today! Where should we have our wedding? What should we name our son?"

Dan believed he had the upper hand, leaving the villagers far behind. He didn't realize that the farther he moved from the bonfire, the deeper he sank into the darkness.

Blood—his and the wolves'—soaked his body, but he felt no pain, only exhilaration. He didn't notice the splinters flying from his swinging stick or the cracks forming along its length.

His focus narrowed. He neither paid attention to his surroundings nor the direction he was heading. All he saw were the wolves before him, all he heard was his own breathing. He had no idea that the wolves he had struck down were slowly curling up, poised for a final attack.