Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 179
Khalif leaned against the wall, his body shaking uncontrollably. Louis’s first sword strike had gone in deep, injuring his internal organs, and the wound on his ear was still bleeding. The pain and blood loss made him quickly weaken.
But he was still alive. Looking at Louis lying on the ground, he thought with satisfaction that the last time he felt like this was when he defeated the previous Wolf King.
A dark-skinned servant was squatting beside Louis, checking his breath, while the others ran down the corridor to get medication and bandages for Khalif, as he refused to leave the spot to go to his bedroom.
“Is he dead?” Khalif asked impatiently, his voice barely a whisper.
The squatting servant nodded. Khalif wearily turned his head, allowing someone beside him to clean the wound on his ear, his gaze falling on the door that Louis had nearly destroyed.
He had arrived just in time. Louis hadn’t even taken a step inside.
This was his forbidden area. Except for Xanye assisting him, no one had ever set foot here. And once the magic was completed, even Xanye was forbidden from approaching.
“What about the one in the living room?” He glanced at the attendant, who was bandaging him.
“Unconscious, but not dead.”
“Bring her here.” Khalif began to feel dizzy. If he, like Louis, was left unattended, he wouldn’t last two more hours.
He couldn’t wait for Prima. He had to activate the door again immediately to replenish his vitality.
Severely injured, Khalif couldn’t drag an unconscious person on his own. He reluctantly allowed his most loyal (and also the most heavily injured in the recent battle) attendant to help bring the assassin, who hadn’t escaped with her companions, into the underground corridor. The other three stood by, watching them go in, then simultaneously looked at Louis, who lay motionless.
“What do we do?” someone asked.
The dark-skinned servant remained silent for a moment, then lifted Louis’s coat again, the shape of the blood seeping out clearly marking the wound’s position—avoiding the heart.
It was the person who had asked what to do that had inflicted this wound.
“McMullan and you made a choice. Urch made his too,” another attendant standing to the side said.
The one who had stabbed Louis glanced at the dark-skinned McMullan, who had just confirmed Louis’s death to Khalif, but it was he who had struck the blow, so he knew what it meant.
“And you, Ham?” he asked.
“I don’t make decisions,” Ham replied.
“Then it’s two to one,” McMullan said in a deep voice. He and another lifted Louis, moving him to the nearest room. Ham hesitated but eventually stayed where he was.
McMullan was a strong enforcer, especially physically robust, but less skilled in treating injuries compared to the other attendant. He watched the other work quickly on Louis’s wounds and asked, “Why bother?”
The other shrugged without looking up. “We’ve followed Khalif for so long that obeying orders has almost become reflexive. Besides, you’ve got to give me some time to think.”
“Changing our loyalty didn’t take time.” McMullan, typically a taciturn man, spoke more than usual in the presence of his comrades.
His like-minded companion finished the emergency treatment, then looked up and met McMullan’s gaze seriously.
“Because our mission is above the head of the family,” he said.
This was a secret known to very few. As attendants to the head of the Wolf Family, their status was low (relative to the family’s cadres), but they formed the most powerful group in each generation of the Wolf’s forces.
Their public duty was singular: to protect the current head of the Wolf family. But strictly speaking, they didn’t belong to the head. They belonged to the “Wolf”.
They had another mission: to ensure the proper succession of the head’s position. For centuries, there were only two ways for the Wolf’s head to change hands. Peaceful succession, where the head groomed a legitimate heir (not necessarily by blood) and stepped down when the heir’s achievements surpassed their own, a joyous and peaceful method; or combat succession, where one defeated the head despite the head having access to the family’s full resources, naturally becoming the new Wolf King.
McMullan and his three comrades were judges of these two methods. The pack needed a strong Wolf King but not an arbitrary tyrant. When Khalif, out of hatred for Louis, dismissed his attendants and insisted on a one-on-one fight, the judgment began. Whether Louis intended to or not, they saw him as a challenger.
When Khalif, regretting the one-on-one duel, suddenly demanded his attendants join the fray, his defeat was evident. Yet Neiman, wavering, compromised by wounding Louis.
But in the end, McMullan and Neiman, who had stabbed Louis, determined Louis as the victor. Ham abstained, while Urch, who helped Khalif into the corridor, chose Khalif.
“Majority rules,” McMullan said. “Urch can’t defeat us two.” This declared Urch’s death sentence. Their mission was above all else, meaning their former comrade now had a different stance, and only one side could survive.
“He probably didn’t expect you to lie,” Neiman said seriously, then looked down at Louis. “But I think this kid lacks the will to live… His heartbeat is very weak.”
He looked at McMullan, troubled. “Do you think we’ve picked the shortest-lived head in history?”
McMullan ignored him, glancing out the door.
“Someone’s coming,” he said.
He and Neiman walked to the door, seeing several people approaching from the foyer, not bothering to soften their footsteps, seemingly wanting the people inside to notice their presence, even if they were uninvited.
The one leading was a woman, Xanye.
Seeing the standing men, she looked guarded. Having been by Khalif’s side for some time, she was familiar with them—though Khalif treated them no differently than other servants, their strength was undeniable.
“McMullan,” she said, like a greeting, to the dark-skinned servant leading them. But McMullan’s gaze fell on the short, hunched old man behind her.
This was the head of the Monkey Family.
A cunning old man, much more scheming than Xanye. He had no hair or eyebrows. His wrinkled face resembled that of an old turtle, with an inconspicuous smile.
“Judges,” he said. Evidently, he was one of the few who knew the truth. Seeing these people, who should be with Khalif, appear alone, he understood their current status immediately. “One is missing… Is Khalif still alive?”
Xanye glanced at the corridor leading underground, easily sensing the magical fluctuations from within. She seemed uneasy, but the old man shook his head, scrutinizing McMullan and Neiman.
He only slightly turned his body in that direction, and McMullan and Neiman blocked the doorway simultaneously, making their intentions clear.
But the other party didn’t seem to need to enter. He shook his head slightly, as if savoring the air, then said, “Disgust, fatigue, despair, but calm, proactive… very contradictory. Only young people have so many troubles.”
Xanye looked a bit surprised. McMullan and Neiman’s stance was clearly protective, but the person inside wasn’t Khalif?
She had only been gone a few hours. What on earth had happened during this time?
“I don’t wish to disturb your master’s rest. I just want to check on my child’s magic… She said her recent research went wrong and asked me to confirm it to avoid any accidents,” the Monkey Family head said smoothly, finally turning to Ham, who was standing near the corridor entrance with his arms crossed. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Ham didn’t move.
So the old man stepped forward. Xanye was taken aback, wanting to speak but stopped. Seeing Ham didn’t stop them, she hurriedly followed, lifting her skirt, with two deep-set men behind her, silent from start to finish.
Neiman looked at Ham with a complex expression. “You’re just going to stand there?”
Ham said, “I have no obligation to Khalif anymore.” So whatever the Monkey Family wanted to do with Khalif, he didn’t need to respond.
“The things in the corridor aren’t good,” McMullan said grimly. With Louis’s successful challenge, The Wolf no longer needed Khalif, who cared only for himself and not the family. Though they didn’t know what Khalif had been doing with the Monkey Family in the underground these years, the resources consumed suggested it was an evil project satisfying his desires. Now that the old man from the Monkey Family had gone in, McMullan seriously considered the feasibility of collapsing the basement to bury them all inside.
“Let’s go,” Neiman said. “Find a doctor. It’s chaotic now. It’ll take time. Don’t let him really suffocate himself.”
“Wait.” McMullan stopped him from entering the room. Ham lowered his hands and stood straight, and Neiman sensed something, closing the previously ajar door behind them.
Just past midnight, the mansion was unusually lively, and more visitors arrived.
A tall figure walked down the corridor, the cold aura and killing intent seemingly lowering the temperature.
Though still some distance away, McMullan didn’t need to see clearly to recognize the newcomer.
“Vasilia,” he said softly.
Neiman glanced at him, and Ham stepped over the mess of splintered wood on the floor to join them.
In the room behind them, a small, round bird was struggling.
This was a smoking room with several windows. The bird took some time but finally found one window that wasn’t completely closed. It squeezed itself inside, becoming a mess of feathers and expending a lot of energy in the process.
The little bird, now exhausted, flew around the room before landing on Louis’s face. But this didn’t wake him up.
Perplexed, the bird rolled down to Louis’s neck. Weighing its options, it decided to peck him hard on the earlobe.
Still no reaction.
What’s wrong with this guy?
Uncertain and dissatisfied, the bird eyed Louis’s nose, wondering if it should peck there next. Then it remembered it had a message to deliver.
Charlie had given it “language”!
The bird hopped onto Louis’s cheek, chirped once, adjusted its tone, and then started jumping around on his face, chirping cheerfully, “George! George! George! George!”
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