“Then we could go take a look. Why not just follow the trail?” Glen suggested.

  “Heh…” The old man let out two expressionless, bitter chuckles. “That ruthless, cunning fellow has surely left a trap for us at his usual haunts. If we go there, we’ll only be inviting trouble.”

  Knowing him so well… it must really be a deep grudge. Glen shrugged, signaling indifference.

  “Let’s head back. This journey ends here,” the old man said calmly as he put away his hunting rifle.

  For some reason, Glen felt that the old man now seemed more like a lonely, solitary elder than the composed, decisive hunter-warrior he had just been.

  As they prepared to turn back, Glen’s peripheral vision caught a massive creature streaking through the sky toward them.

  “Old man, what’s that?” Glen nudged the burly hunter beside him.

  The old man looked up, his expression darkening instantly. “That damned fiend! He’s brought the Griffin Knights here!”

  “Griffin Knights?” Glen frowned. “What do we do now? Fight?”

  “Fight? Whether you can beat them or not, the pursuit afterward will be unrelenting. Think fast—hide! If they see our faces, it’s over. They’ll track us straight to our home, and you can forget ever living in peace again!” For the first time, the old man’s calm demeanor cracked, revealing genuine fear of the Griffin Knights seeing his face.

  “That’s easy enough.” Glen said, his body swelling and transforming into a powerful black werewolf. His voice rumbled like a demon. “I’ll hold them off. You take the chance to escape.”

  “Are you sure?” the old man asked seriously.

  “I never do anything I’m not confident in,” Glen replied, his tone brimming with assurance.

  “Very well, arrogant boy. If you die, I’ll mourn you. If you succeed, twenty silver coins shall be your reward.” With that, the old man turned and dashed into the dense forest.

  Twenty silver coins? That’s about the price of a pig… Glen’s gaze fixed on the rapidly approaching griffin. He dropped to all fours and charged.

  The griffin was massive, carrying three riders on its back. They were tall, statuesque women clad in form-fitting silver armor that accentuated their striking figures.

  “Captain, no need to be so serious. This is probably just another false lead from those meddlesome black magicians. There could even be traps waiting for us,” a black-haired, brown-eyed knight said to the deep brown, high ponytail captain in front.

  “You know well that so-called traps mean nothing to us, Aisha. We’ve faced such situations more than once. Now, almost nothing can escape our gaze,” the captain said coolly.

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  “That’s true…”

  Suddenly—

  A piercing screech!

  The griffin emitted a warning cry. The captain’s gaze sharpened, locking onto something below.

  The verdant treetops rustled violently as something hurtled through the forest at incredible speed toward them.

  “Stay alert!” the captain shouted. But before they could fully prepare, a tremendous crash erupted from below. A black shape shot from the undergrowth, colliding squarely with the griffin.

  The impact rocked the griffin, causing all three riders to fall from its back.

  During their descent, the three experienced knights crystallized protective knightly energy around their bodies, preparing for the landing.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The three crashed into the ground under immense gravitational force, gouging out three deep pits and flattening the surrounding vegetation.

  “Did you see what that was?” the captain asked, hand gripping her knightly sword, scanning the area.

  “No…”

  “Not clearly…”

  Both shook their heads.

  Yet there was no need for concern—the culprit had already revealed himself.

  Glen strode boldly out of the forest, his werewolf form on full display before the three knights.

  “Knights?” His voice remained deep and commanding, though internally he marveled: that waist, those legs… are all female knights this well-built?

  “Werewolf?!”

  “Can it speak?!!”

  The knights were even more astonished than Glen—this was the first time they had seen a werewolf transform and still speak coherently.

  Weren’t werewolves supposed to be mute? Right… when I first transformed, I couldn’t speak; I had to manipulate the wolfish form of my throat to talk… Glen realized, after a moment of confusion, that this explained their reaction.

  “A level-three werewolf? And it can speak? Must be an anomaly,” the captain said, deducing his rank from certain traits with confident certainty.

  Suddenly, she called out, “Hey! Mister Werewolf, daring to provoke the Griffin Knights on your own… you’ve got guts…”

  “I just want to test your swordsmanship. Is that so wrong?” Glen retorted.

  “Hmph!” The captain snorted sharply. “To become a level-three werewolf, you must have fed on many humans, haven’t you?!”

  “I’m not that kind of disgusting creature,” Glen rolled his eyes.

  “Perhaps,” she said, her aura surging. “Sisters, stand back. Let me teach this ignorant fiend a lesson.”

  Facing the tall, long-legged knight pointing her sword at him, Glen’s excitement surged—it was a familiar thrill to anyone who trained in martial arts.

  He swiped his claws, and a thick wooden staff, roughly the width of a bowl, materialized in his grip.

  The approaching knight noticed the gesture and couldn’t help but smirk. “You intend to parry my knightly sword with a stick?! Truly a deranged fiend!”

  She then became a streak of light, aiming straight for Glen’s throat.

  Glen didn’t flinch. The staff twirled in his hands as he leapt aside, avoiding the direct strike while turning it to jab at the knight’s wrist.

  The attack seemed fierce, but the real threat was only in the frontal strike; the sideways blade was mostly for intimidation.

  Feeling the force on her wrist, the captain almost lost her grip, but thanks to her two-handed hold and rigorous training, she avoided committing a knightly blunder—the sword must never leave the hand in combat.

  With a forward step, she stopped her momentum while instantly converting the strike into a sweeping motion.

  Glen anticipated this, swinging the staff in a wide arc, clashing against the sword, then pivoting to deliver a powerful kick to her abdomen.

  The captain flew backward, crashing into a massive tree before halting.

  “Captain!” The other two knights shouted, attempting to intervene, but their leader raised a hand to stop them.

  “I’m fine,” the captain said, feeling her abdomen. The blow hadn’t even breached her protective energy—she was unscathed.

  “All your moves are flawed, Knight Captain,” Glen said with a light laugh, standing his ground without pursuing further.