A Post-Apocalyptic Journey to Another World

Beside a small river deep in the forest, there is a clearing close to the water source. Unlike the damp and dark forest, it is a perfect place for camping.

Not far from the riverbank, there was a very tall tent made of an unknown animal leather. The fur on the leather had not been cleaned off, and there were dark brown bloodstains mixed in with the fur.

A campfire burned in front of the tent, and a fat pig was roasting over it. The stench emanating from the pig indicated that it had been dead for a long time and was already badly decomposed.

However, the stench made the dozen or so gray werewolves around them drool. Although they were incredibly hungry, they dared not make a move. A dozen pairs of eyes, which were originally greedy and ferocious, all looked obediently and cautiously at a figure sitting on a tree stump in front of the campfire.

Zach, the Grey Werewolf, sat by the campfire, intently organizing the recording magic stones his subordinates had brought him. He was trying to piece together the chaotic images from the individual magic stones into a single stone, attempting to create a complete map of the city's defenses.

It's somewhat like a jigsaw puzzle game. Compared to most of his peers who kill time by fighting and brawling, Zack prefers games like jigsaw puzzles.

Legend has it that the werewolf race are descendants of ancient giants and the demon wolf Fenrir. Over the long course of history, their noble bloodline has gradually diluted, and it is now rarely seen in ordinary werewolves.

However, among every hundred newly born werewolves, there will always be one or two lucky ones who are born with extraordinary talents, far surpassing their kind in both intelligence and strength.

They are the natural chiefs, elders, and commanders of the werewolf clan, and Zach is one of them.

Of course, this is just a legend and doesn't mean that the Grey Werewolves are actually descendants of Fenrir, the Demon Wolf. Just like famous figures in ancient China, many claimed to be direct descendants of certain sages.

Among these numerous propagandists, there is clearly only one direct descendant, or perhaps none at all.

Whether it's true or not, people have gotten used to calling this group, who are naturally gifted with exceptional intelligence and strength, the Descendants of the Demon Wolves.

After sorting through the recording magic stones his subordinates had brought him, Zak, the descendant of the werewolves, scratched his backside in dissatisfaction. Three nights had passed, and every night he had sent all his men deep into the city to scout the terrain and deployment, but so far, not a single werewolf had been able to bring back any images of the city center.

The recording stone is very easy to use. Once charged, it can be carried around and automatically record images around the wearer.

Zack put away the recording magic stone and stood up to adjust the short leather skirt around his waist. It was made of the hide of a fanged tiger, which Zack had killed in a chance encounter. For a gray werewolf, being able to kill a fanged tiger single-handedly was a source of great pride.

He made short skirts from the leather-clad creatures of the sharp-toothed tiger and wore them around his waist. Zak encouraged the gray werewolves to wear clothes; he even forced his men to wear leather skirts as well. But his men were disappointing, always secretly throwing away the clothes Zak had worked so hard to obtain.

Zack walked to the campfire, tore off a pig's leg, and began to devour it, causing the surrounding gray werewolves' eyes to gleam with green light. But they dared not approach, not only out of fear of Zack, but also because of the fire. Only a descendant of the demon wolves like Zack was unafraid of fire, and they even knew how to start fires to cook food.

Zack contentedly swallowed the pig's leg. He liked the taste of raw meat and blood, but occasionally changing things up with cooked food was also quite enjoyable. As for his uncultured compatriots around him, Zack always looked down on them. Look at these guys, they're even afraid of something as good as fire!

It looked around at its fellow creatures with disdain, and suddenly noticed something unusual!

The sixteen gray werewolves that were originally scattered around it are now reduced to five. Where did the rest go? This is the first time we've encountered such a situation.

It was common for these uncivilized creatures to run around undisciplinedly, but there had never been a case of more than ten getting lost. Zach keenly sensed a hint of danger.

……

Hundreds of meters away, Zhang Xi unearthed the magic crystal of a gray werewolf at his feet. This was the eleventh gray werewolf that Amber had attracted. These gray werewolves didn't have any magic stones on them, indicating they were not scouts but guards.

Zhang Xi quickly climbed a large tree and observed the werewolf camp. There were still six werewolves. One of them was a descendant of the Demon Wolf, with strength generally between the third and fifth tiers of Silver rank. Their strength was comparable to the alpha wolf he had killed recently, but the descendants of the Demon Wolf were more intelligent and therefore more difficult to deal with.

The wolf descendants have already noticed the anomaly, and it's no longer realistic to have Amber lure them over one by one. Zhang Xi glanced at his watch; time was running out, and he had to leave the dense forest before nightfall.

……

Zach took out a spiked club from the tent, and his remaining five men stood ready, having already smelled the enemy approaching.

The fact that this guy could silently eliminate so many of his subordinates was enough to make Zach take him seriously. But a direct confrontation and a sneak attack are two different things. Zach was going to teach this damned guy an unforgettable lesson. He had already smelled the human scent; it hadn't eaten human flesh in a long time.

Zhang Xi and Amber had just stepped out of the forest when Zack roared and charged at them like an arrow released from a bow. Such speed greatly surprised Zhang Xi. A charge? No, there was no time to think; Zack covered the hundreds of meters in almost an instant.

As planned, Amber charged toward the five gray werewolves behind Zack, and Zhang Xi immediately drew his M500 and aimed it at the wolf descendant who had already charged in front of him.

When Zack saw the human in front of him pull out a pistol, he immediately chuckled. This wasn't the first time he'd seen humans use something like this. If the other person had pulled out one of those high-explosive projectiles that could chase people, he might have been worried, but this little gadget wasn't even strong enough to tickle Grandpa Zack!

The humans who used this little thing to attack Zach have all ended up in its stomach.

"Bang!" The M500 made its characteristic dull sound as a special high-explosive dumdum bullet struck Zack's nose, who didn't even try to dodge. Zack felt as if he had been hit hard in the face by a minotaur, and his 300-pound body was thrown backward by the enormous force.

Blood splattered on the bridge of his nose. His overly sensitive nose felt like a spice shop had been opened, with all sorts of chaotic sensations—sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and salty—rushing into his brain at once, blurring his vision.

The immense impact of the M500 sent Zach staggering, halting his momentum. Zhang Xi seized the opportunity, charging forward and delivering a powerful hand axe blow to Zach's abdomen. The abdomen is the weak point of all werewolves, and a single strike can often inflict severe damage.

Werewolves are warlike, and Zach, a veteran of many battles, instantly abandoned his contempt upon receiving this unexpected and devastating blow. As his body was thrown back by the immense impact, he immediately curled up into a ball, protecting his abdomen, neck, and head.

The axe, seemingly destined to strike, landed on the werewolf's arm, leaving only a deep wound—nothing much to a werewolf. Zach leaped backward, creating some distance.

The first round of combat ended with Zhang Xi gaining the upper hand, but the Descendant of the Demon Wolf's five senses had recovered. What followed was a contest of strength and experience. Bronze versus Silver—a vast difference in strength and speed across the board—this was a battle with no suspense.

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