Honghuang: My understanding is beyond belief. I am the first immortal of Jiejiao.

"What was that sound?!"

"Wolves! So many wolves!!"

"Foul! They're fouling! How come even the demon race is joining the battle?!"

"Snowstorm City... the legend of dancing with wolves... could it be true?!"

"Run! A wolf horde! A wolf horde is coming!!"

The surviving Indian Buddhist soldiers were terrified by the terrifying wolf howls that echoed across the mountains and fields! Some angrily accused the other side of "breaking the rules" by mobilizing the demon race to join the battle; others suddenly remembered the ancient and mysterious legend of Snowstorm City—this city had an inextricable connection with the wolf clan of the North, and there was even a legend that a wolf king once protected the city!
At this moment, it seems that the legend is not only true, but the one protecting the city is not an ordinary wolf king, but a Snow Wolf King in the Void Returning Realm who can transform into a teacher and lead a clan!
In stark contrast to their terror and despair, the Tang soldiers who were still fighting a bloody battle with the main force of the Indian Buddhist army on the battlefield were stunned for a moment when they heard the familiar and inspiring wolf howl, and then burst into earth-shattering cheers!

"It's a pack of wolves! It's our pack of wolves!"

"The Wolf King has summoned reinforcements!"

"Brothers! Charge! Reinforcements have arrived!!"

On the distant horizon, amidst the snow-covered mountains, countless black "tides" seemed to surge forth instantly! But these were not tides; they were countless enormous wolves, their fur black, gray, or silver, their fangs and claws gleaming with a cold light, their eyes burning with bloodlust!
They resembled a disciplined army, yet possessed the wildness and ferocity unique to a herd of beasts, forming a boundless, endless black torrent that surged toward the battlefield, or more precisely, toward the direction of the fleeing 300,000 cavalry!

At a glance, the vanguard of the wolf pack that surged out first numbered no less than 150,000! Moreover, the howling of wolves continued unabated in the mountains, clearly indicating that even more wolves were gathering and rushing over; the real "wolf tide" had only just begun!
"Haha! My children, Old Wolf, have arrived!"

The Snow Wolf King laughed heartily, his voice echoing across the wilderness.

He did not appear in this city to teach without a reason.

He was originally the king of the Northern Wolf Clan who came from Snowstorm City! Back then, he traveled all over the world. Because of his Snowstorm origin and powerful combat strength, he was almost chosen by a certain Buddha who wanted to forcibly "convert" him and take him as a mount and protector.

Just as the Buddha was overstepping his bounds and acting tyrannically, a young man who happened to be passing by, with a refined demeanor but whose eyes held both arrogance and compassion, intervened, killing the Buddha with his own son to save him from danger.

The man asked for nothing in return, only saying he was "just passing by and found it unacceptable," before drifting away. The Snow Wolf King, grateful for his kindness and respecting his integrity and the underlying "Tao," continued his journey through countless trials.

Finally, they found the man's trail and learned that he had opened an academy in the Tang Dynasty and spread his teachings. Despite the elders' advice, they resolutely became his disciples. Although they were demons, they were willing to follow the teachings of Confucius, cultivate their character, and even came to this border town to become teachers, partly to repay a debt of gratitude and partly to put what they had learned into practice.

Before leaving the city, he proclaimed the Wolf King's decree to the million wolves of the Ten Thousand Mountains—this city was protected by his master and was the place where he, the Wolf King of Wind and Snow, established his life and practiced his beliefs; the wolf clan would guard it for generations to come! Now that he has returned, how could he allow the bald monk from India to act so recklessly here?!
The wolf horde was ferocious and overwhelming, its momentum causing the earth to tremble. The fleeing cavalrymen were already terrified, and their warhorses were on the verge of collapse.

Seeing this boundless torrent of ferocious beasts sweeping in, many warhorses lost their last bit of support, their limbs went weak, and they knelt on the ground. No matter how the cavalry whipped and roared, they refused to move another step. Some even rolled their eyes back and were scared to death!
"Haha! Now you've lost your horses! Let's see how you run now!"

Upon seeing this, the farmer burst into laughter.

As the cleaning lady swung a sword aura, killing dozens of cavalrymen who tried to form a defensive formation on foot, she sneered.

"The horses are all sleeping on the street, aren't you going to get down and keep them company?"

The cavalrymen were filled with extreme resentment and frustration, but there was nothing they could do. Without their horses, they were just heavily armored infantry, and in this chaotic rout and the pursuit of wolves, their progress was even more difficult.

But the instinct for survival overwhelmed everything. They discarded their heavy, cumbersome long weapons, and some even frantically removed parts of their armor, just to run faster and become true "infantrymen," burying their heads in their hands and running wildly toward the breach in the city wall that was getting closer and closer, yet also seemed to be getting further and further away!

However, how can two legs outrun a four-legged wolf? Especially a ferocious wolf with considerable cultivation, summoned by the wolf king?
Like a black whirlwind of death, the wolf pack easily caught up with the fleeing infantry, tearing the thousands who lagged behind to shreds in an instant with their claws and teeth! The screams, howls of wolves, and the sounds of flesh being torn apart intertwined, creating a hellish scene.

The butcher was even more ruthless. He didn't pursue them, but stood on a slightly higher piece of ruins, aimed at the dense crowd of fleeing cavalry, and suddenly swung out the shiny butcher knife in his hand!

The butcher's knife transformed into a streak of black light, drawing a strange arc in the air, as if it had a life of its own, weaving through the fleeing soldiers!
"Puff puff puff puff...!"

Each movement brought forth sprays of blood and severed limbs, precisely reaping lives and instantly killing hundreds more!

The fleeing soldiers went completely mad. Ignoring their comrades being pounced on by wolves and killed by flying knives, they just kept their heads down and ran as fast as they could in their lives!
After leaving behind countless corpses and wounded along the way, and suffering a heavy loss of nearly half of their men, the remaining surviving "infantry" numbered over 100,000, still in shock, finally crawled and stumbled to the breach in the city wall that they had blasted open with their own hands, which now seemed like the gates of heaven to them.
The exit is right in front of us! If we just rush out, there's a vast wilderness outside, and perhaps... perhaps there's still a glimmer of hope!
Hope, like a spark in the darkness, rekindled in their lifeless eyes.

With their last ounce of strength, they roared incoherently and rushed desperately toward the breach!
However, just as the fleeing soldiers at the forefront were about to step out of the breach and see the light of day again—

They abruptly stopped in their tracks, the glimmer of hope that had just appeared on their faces instantly replaced by deeper fear and despair!

Outside the gap, a person was already standing quietly.

He was an old man with white hair and a youthful face, a ruddy complexion, and his white hair was neatly combed. He wore a faded light blue scholar's robe, his hands tucked into his sleeves, and his posture was as upright as a pine tree.

His face wore an almost compassionate, kind, and gentle smile, his eyes clear and deep, as if they could see into people's hearts, and with the tolerance of an elder looking at a naughty child, and... a faint sense of helplessness.

He stood there quietly, with a battlefield strewn with corpses behind him and fleeing soldiers in front of him, yet he seemed to exist independently of this bloodshed and slaughter, forming his own world and radiating a strange and unsettling aura of tranquility.

His kind gaze calmly watched the more than 100,000 defeated Indian soldiers who surged forward like a tide but then suddenly froze.

The remaining 100,000-plus Indian soldiers were terrified by the terrifying wolf king, the fierce "neighbors," and the overwhelming wolf tide within the city. Their minds were filled with the most primal and insane thought—escape!
Escape this hellhole that has swallowed countless lives of their comrades! The breach in the city wall is right before them, the only exit they can see, a symbol of freedom and survival!
Like wild beasts driven to the brink of despair, their eyes red and their breath ragged, they discarded everything they could carry, even pushing and trampling each other, desperate to get through the narrow gap, barely a dozen feet wide. But just as those at the front were about to touch the blood-stained air of freedom beyond the gap, they abruptly stopped, as if crashing into an invisible wall. Their fervent will to survive froze instantly, transforming into a deeper, almost paralyzed fear.

Because beyond that gap was not the open wilderness or the support troops they had imagined, but... people.

It was not a vast army, nor a pack of ferocious beasts.

Instead, it was fifteen or sixteen people.

To be precise, there were fifteen or sixteen elderly people.

They stood there sparsely, some leaning against the broken bricks, some squatting on the rubble, and some simply sitting on the ground, their postures casual, even somewhat lazy. What they had in common was that they all had white hair and youthful faces, or rather, white hair and wrinkled skin, their faces were aged, and their bodies were mostly thin and frail, as if a slightly stronger gust of wind could blow them over.

One of them, wearing a faded, patched old Taoist robe, leaned on an iron sword with a worn scabbard and almost completely fallen tassel. He stood there with a slightly hunched back and drooping eyelids, as if he might fall asleep at any moment.

His Taoist robe was empty, and there was no trace of spiritual power or blood energy fluctuations. He looked like an ordinary old Taoist priest waiting to die in the sun at the entrance of a Taoist temple.

The other one was extremely short, less than five feet tall, with charred and dry skin, deep wrinkles on his face that could trap mosquitoes, and sparse hair with only a few strands sticking to his scalp. He looked like an old tree root that had been struck by lightning and smoked in a stove for many years, making him quite comical.

He squatted on the ground, holding a thin twig in his hand, idly scratching something on the ground, seemingly oblivious to the hundreds of thousands of fleeing soldiers surging towards him.

There was also an old woman, so thin she was skin and bones, carrying a dim, yellowish white paper lantern in her hand. The candlelight inside the lantern was so faint it seemed it might go out at any moment.

She stretched out her long, somewhat chapped tongue and licked her equally chapped lips. Her eyes were cloudy as she stared blankly at the sky, seemingly looking at nothing in particular.

The other elderly people also had their own "down-and-out" appearances: there was an old man carrying a tattered gourd with a face as cracked as parched land; there was an old woman leaning on a cane and coughing incessantly; and there was an old man dressed in rags, looking like a beggar...

In short, this group of elderly people formed a stark, even laughable, contrast with the fierce and ruthless Golden Core "neighbors" in the city.

That's it? Using a bunch of old men and women who are on their deathbeds and probably can't even walk properly to stop our more than 100,000 remnant soldiers?
After a brief silence, the fleeing Indian soldiers at the forefront burst into a burst of wild laughter, a laugh that seemed to come from the brink of death, mixed with endless mockery and ferocity!

"Hahahaha! Old man! Old woman! Is there no one left in the Tang Dynasty? They sent you old folks with half your bodies in the ground to block the road?"

"This is hilarious! Are they giving us military merits, or are they just letting us stretch our muscles so we don't get tired from running?"

"Brothers, do you see this? This is the Tang Dynasty! They're at their wits' end! They're even pushing out this old coffin stuffer to die!"

"I've slaughtered at least a thousand, if not eight hundred, on my way here! Perfect, a few more! I'll send you to meet your Buddha in the Western Paradise sooner—no, I mean, to hell!"

Laughter, curses, and jeers surged forth like a tide, filled with contempt and disdain for the elderly. In the eyes of these bloodthirsty, fleeing soldiers, these old people were nothing more than roadside stones, mere scum to be trampled and kicked aside at will!
Even more so, torturing and killing these seemingly defenseless elderly people can bring a morbid stimulation and a twisted sense of "achievement" to their already fragile nerves.

"Charge! Crush them!!"

Someone roared, and the hundreds of defeated soldiers at the front, their faces contorted with cruel and excited grins, brandished their swords stained with the blood of their comrades or Tang people, unleashing their final killing intent against the "weak," like a pack of hungry wolves, and pounced on the dozen or so seemingly harmless old men!

They will use a sea of ​​people, iron hooves, and swords to completely overwhelm and tear apart this ignorant "obstacle" blocking their way!
A chilling killing intent swept over us, stirring up dust and blood.

Faced with this overwhelming force, powerful enough to instantly crush any ordinary army, the dozen or so old men seemed completely oblivious.

They exchanged a glance. In their aged, cloudy eyes, there was no fear or solemnity, but rather... a hint of helplessness, a touch of amusement, and a touch of... a kind of benevolent gentleness, as if they were watching a group of unruly children playing around after school.

The short, charred old man squatting on the ground, scribbling away, didn't even raise his head. He just muttered something indifferently in his dry, hoarse voice, like a broken bellows. His voice wasn't loud, but strangely, the fastest-charging fleeing soldiers in the front row could hear it clearly.

"Tsk, the soldiers of the Buddhist kingdom of India, even after two thousand years, are still so...naive."

"Not improved at all."

The old Taoist priest, leaning on his broken iron sword and seemingly dozing off, slightly raised his eyelids upon hearing this. He glanced at the fleeing soldiers rushing towards him, and a gentle smile that was almost apologetic appeared on his face. He nodded slightly to the other old men beside him, his tone as respectful as if he were asking for instructions.

"My old friends, the young people are too noisy, it's disturbing our sunbathing. How about... I, this old Taoist priest, ask them to be quiet for a while?"

The other elderly people either nodded, smiled, or waved their hands, indicating "please do as you please," their attitude as casual as if they were saying "do as you please."

The old Taoist priest received "permission," and his smile widened, revealing a genuine and pure compassion.

He released the broken iron sword he was leaning on, and then, facing the hundreds of fleeing soldiers who had rushed in front of him and whose swords were almost touching his Taoist robe, he lightly flicked his palm in mid-air, as if he were just swatting away flies.

There was no raging wind or thunder, no surging magical power, not even a flicker of light. It was just an ordinary, unremarkable flick of the wrist.

However, just as his hand brushed across the surface—(End of Chapter)