Chapter 185 — Mad Dog

He might have turned and fled, and yet somehow his gaze, as though by no will of his own, fell upon that pair of frightened, anxious eyes behind the beast-demons, and he found he could not move his feet to save himself alone.

Are there some things, truly, that cannot be escaped?

With a roar the savage beast-demons at last could hold back no longer and came lunging forward. Two dark shapes swept up a reeking wind through the shadows, and amid it came little Wan's cry of alarm.

The Wild Wolf Daoist's throat went dry, his legs trembled faintly, and by instinct he turned to run; and yet, and yet, his body—his body lunged forward instead, straight at that savage beast-demon, as though

a mad dog!

The outcome was decided in an instant: four claws from the two beast-demons tore almost as one into the Wild Wolf Daoist's body, while his fang-treasure plunged into the chest of the beast-demon he had wounded before.

Beast-demon and Wild Wolf Daoist alike let out screams of agony, and little Wan's cry of alarm had broken into sobbing wails.

Blood sprayed; the Wild Wolf Daoist felt as though his whole body would burst apart, as though he had been torn in two, and he staggered backward, catching in his panic the sight of four bloody gashes upon his body, the blood welling out like a spring.

Ahead, the beast-demon bawled a few times, its legs gave way, and it toppled to the ground. The other beast-demon gave a mournful cry and, forgetting altogether to hunt down the Wild Wolf Daoist, kept nudging and shoving its companion with its head and paws where it lay gravely wounded and dying. But the beast-demon's wound was where the fang had driven straight into its heart, and after a few last struggles it let its head fall and died there.

"Pa"—a soft sound—and the Wild Wolf Daoist too at last could hold out no longer, dropping to his knees on the ground, his upper body all but soaked through with blood, a sheet of crimson, gasping great breaths, his dog-face ashen.

The sound roused the one beast-demon left; seeing its companion dead, it seemed driven near to frenzy, howled at the sky, its fangs blood-red, and came lunging forward once more.

Just as the Wild Wolf Daoist was about to perish beneath the beast's claws, all at once the ground blurred, a streak of yellow light flashed past, a few talisman papers fluttered aloft, and the Wild Wolf Daoist was gone without a trace; the beast-demon's lunge caught empty air.

The beast-demon was startled for a moment, but scarcely had a short while passed when a cry of "Aiya!" rang out, and Zhou Yixuan, together with the blood-drenched Wild Wolf Daoist, came tumbling down out of the sky, a few talismans still clutched in his hand.

This was, of course, Zhou Yixuan working those hereditary immortal arts he was always boasting of. The beast-demons had fallen upon the two of them, grandfather and grandchild, without warning, and within moments the pair had been subdued; beneath the beast-demons' gaping bloody maws, what chance had they to work any tricks? It was only thanks to the Wild Wolf Daoist charging in hot-headed to the rescue that a brief opening had come. He had meant to slip away in it, never thinking the Wild Wolf Daoist's life would hang by a thread instead, and with no other choice Zhou Yixuan had to save the man first.

Only his few scraps of magic seemed the merest dabbler's trick; though akin to what Daoists call "the Five Ghosts' Moving House" and the like, it did shift the Wild Wolf Daoist through the air, yet midway through the casting, for some reason, his hand slipped, and the two of them came tumbling down out of midair instead, in utter wretched disarray. And a mercy it was that when they fell, the Wild Wolf Daoist landed atop Zhou Yixuan; otherwise the force of that fall alone would likely have finished him.

But there was no time now to think of such things; the beast-demon had spotted them in a trice and, in a fury, was already lunging again. Zhou Yixuan and the Wild Wolf Daoist had landed dizzy and dazed; the Wild Wolf Daoist, somewhat the better off, was nonetheless gravely wounded and could not dodge in time. Helpless, they could only wait for death. Across his dog-face a flicker of bewilderment stole, and he turned his head as though hoping to see something.

In that flash of a moment, unexpectedly, a figure came charging in and threw itself before the Wild Wolf Daoist and Zhou Yixuan, and the voice cried: "Grandfather... Daoist..."

Beneath the beast-demon's cold, keen claws and fangs, little Wan's face, despairing and weeping, yet calm!

In that instant the Wild Wolf Daoist felt a rush of hot blood surge to his head, his whole body seething as though boiling, and he gazed upon that figure, that frail and lovely shadow!

"Hong!"

With a great crash, two figures collided.

Little Wan staggered and fell to one side, all over mud and filth, but she paid it no mind at all; turning her head, she saw the Wild Wolf Daoist, who had thrust her aside, lunge forward and grapple with the beast-demon, bearing it down to the ground. In its furious rage the beast-demon thrust out its claws and raked and stabbed wildly at the Wild Wolf Daoist's back, flesh and blood flying in an instant, and still the Wild Wolf Daoist clung to the beast-demon with all his might, not the least sign of letting go.

Little Wan and Zhou Yixuan were both ashen now, and behind them the crowd were all frozen in terror; after a moment, someone—none knew who—let out a great shout, and everyone who could still move rushed forward and, surrounding the beast-demon, seized whatever was at hand—and where there was nothing, their own palms and feet and even teeth—and laid on with all their strength against that savage beast-demon.

At first the beast-demon still roared aloud and fought desperately, but after a while its voice began to fade, growing fainter and fainter, until at last it made no sound at all. And the crowd around it seemed gone mad as well, pounding away at the beast-demon's body without pause.

Until Zhou Yixuan was the first to come to his senses and hastily called the crowd off—saving lives came first—and only then did the others slowly stop. And with that release of breath, in an instant many of them collapsed to the ground.

There were a few spots of blood on little Wan's face too, but she heeded them not at all; she set to with all her strength to drag at the beast-demon's carcass, wanting to pull the Wild Wolf Daoist out from under it. Yet tug as she might, the beast-demon and the Wild Wolf Daoist could not be parted, and little Wan, alarmed and frantic, was near to weeping.

In the end it was Zhou Yixuan who kept his head; after careful examination he found that the Wild Wolf Daoist's two hands had actually pierced through the beast-demon's tough hide straight into its chest and lodged there fast—no wonder they could not be parted. Having seen this, Zhou Yixuan quickly called for help, and with the aid of such others as still had strength, they at last drew the Wild Wolf Daoist's blood-slicked hands out of the beast-demon's body and separated the two.

Little Wan, her lovely face gone pale, laid the Wild Wolf Daoist's body on the ground and was about to ask after him when suddenly her countenance changed; she put her hand before his mouth and nose, and in that instant stood dumb as a wooden fowl!

"He... the Daoist, he..."

Zhou Yixuan said urgently, "What's happened to him?"

Little Wan's lips trembled faintly, her eyes brimming with tears, and she wept out in a shaking voice: "The Daoist... he has stopped breathing."

Zhou Yixuan was struck dumb too, wooden and wordless.

Amid little Wan's mournful, choking sobs, beneath the faint glimmer in the darkness, upon the Wild Wolf Daoist's strange face, amid all that agony of expression, there faintly lingered a smile twisted out of the pain itself.

He was dead, like a mad dog that had died!

In this world, who has ever been sane?