The Last Werewolf in History

Chapter 8

"Monster!"

Qin Lie fixed his gaze upon him.

A crimson glint flashed in his eyes, then faded away.

He took a single, long stride forward.

His hand chopped down like a blade.

The vial of holy water shattered.

The liquid spilled out, corroding the floor and sending up plumes of white smoke.

The man slumped to the ground, the front of his trousers soaked wet.

It was over.

Qin Lie took a deep, ragged breath.

The scent of blood was thick—so thick it felt as if it were clinging to the back of his throat.

He walked over to one of the bodies and retrieved a communicator.

The screen was lit, displaying the message: "Signal Lost."

They had been tracking the signal from the short sword.

Qin Lie stomped on the communicator, crushing it; the plastic casing cracked and splintered.

Old K's voice came through his earpiece: "Is it clean?"

"Yeah."

"Don't linger. The Archbishop's side will have already received the 'loss of contact' alert."

Qin Lie picked up the backpack lying on the floor.

Inside, he found several vials of serums and a map.

The map featured several marked red circles.

One of those circles was located deep within the Old District.

Next to it was a handwritten note: "Sword Forging."

Qin Lie's finger came to rest upon that circle.

The trail of clues—once broken—had now been picked up again.

He turned and walked away.

Just as he stepped out of the unfinished building, the wail of police sirens reached his ears from the distance.

These weren't ordinary police.

It was backup from the Silver Cross Society.

They had arrived far too quickly.

Qin Lie slipped into the shadows.

Several drones flew overhead, their searchlights sweeping across the ground below.

A beam of light grazed the hem of his clothes, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air.

Old K let out a curse over the comms: "They've locked onto the thermal signatures in this area."

"I'll take the sewers," Qin Lie said.

"You reek of blood," Su Hongxiu's voice cut in, sounding urgent. "Don't head straight back; clean yourself up first."

Qin Lie glanced down.

A few drops of blood clung to his cuffs.

They had already dried, turning a dark, rusty brown. He tore off a strip of cloth, wrapped it around his wrist, and concealed the bloodstains.

A drone circled once overhead, then flew away.

Qin Lie remained motionless until the sound faded completely.

This hunt had gone too smoothly.

Unnaturally smoothly.

He drew his short sword.

The runes etched into the blade glowed brighter than before, emitting a faint red light.

It looked as if the sword were absorbing the blood spilled moments ago.

Old K had once said that this sword already had a master.

Where was that master now?

Qin Lie sheathed the sword.

He turned and slipped into the tall grass nearby.

High atop a distant skyscraper...

A figure clad in white robes lowered a pair of binoculars.

The Archbishop.

In his hand, he held a tablet displaying five grayed-out dots of light.

"They're dead," his assistant stated, his voice cold.

"As expected." The Archbishop tapped his fingers against the railing with a steady rhythm. "He is growing."

"Should we deploy more troops?"

"No need." The Archbishop turned away, his long shadow stretching across half the rooftop terrace. "The hounds have already caught the scent. From here on out, we won't have to do the hunting ourselves."

He pressed a button.

A red alert window popped up on the tablet screen.

Tracking signal—amplified.

The source pointed directly to the spot where Qin Lie had stood just moments ago.

"The runes on that short sword are a two-way link," the Archbishop remarked. "He thinks *he* is the hunter, but in reality, he is merely leading us straight to him."

The assistant nodded. "And what about the swordsmith?"

"We'll cast the net for both of them at once."

The wind began to pick up.

The hem of the Archbishop's robes whipped and snapped in the gale.

He gazed down at the city sprawling beneath him—viewing it as a chessboard, where the pieces were just now falling into place.

"Notify the Su family. Tell them that their daughter is in our custody."

"Su Hongxiu?"

"The debt her father owes has finally come due."

Down below... Qin Lie suddenly sneezed.

He rubbed his nose and quickened his pace.

The entrance to the sewers lay just ahead; the manhole cover stood ajar.

Old K and Su Hongxiu were waiting there, their figures blending seamlessly into the shadows.

"Did you get the goods?" Old K asked.

Qin Lie tossed his backpack over to him.

Old K rummaged through it and pulled out a map; his gaze locked onto it, his fingers tracing the lines across the paper. "This is..."

"The location of the Swordsmith," Qin Lie said. "And I have another piece of news."

"Speak."

"The Silver Cross knows who we're looking for."

Old K's hand paused; a corner of the map crumpled slightly.

"How is that possible?"

"They mentioned Su Hongxiu."

Su Hongxiu's face went pale; her lips pressed tight as she gripped the handle of the first-aid kit.

"My father?"

Qin Lie nodded.

"They're planning to move against your family."

Su Hongxiu remained silent, her knuckles turning white.

"Back to the safe house first." Old K folded the map and tucked it inside his jacket. "We can't stay here any longer."

The three of them plunged back into the darkness.

This time, their footsteps were more hurried, the splashing of water more chaotic.

Behind them, the city lights remained dazzling, the neon signs flickering.

No one above knew what was unfolding beneath their feet.

Qin Lie brought up the rear.

The short sword at his waist felt scorching hot.

It felt like a glowing ember, burning against his skin right through his clothes.

He pressed his hand against the hilt.

The heat seeped through his palm, coursing into his veins.

His pulse began to throb in response.

Once. Twice.

As if answering some distant summons.

Qin Lie stopped.

"What's wrong?" Su Hongxiu turned back, her voice tight with tension.

"The sword is humming."

"Humming?"

"A low vibration."

Old K leaned in, pressing his ear against the blade to listen.

There was indeed a sound.

Very faint—like an electric current, or perhaps a heartbeat.

"It's resonating." Old K's expression shifted, his brows knitting together tightly. "The Swordsmith has awakened."

"Awakened?"

"A century ago, he faked his own death to escape the Purge," Old K explained. "Now, he has sensed the power of the sword."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"That depends on whether he intends to help you, or reclaim the sword for himself."

Qin Lie released his grip.

The humming ceased.

"Regardless of what he intends to do," Qin Lie said, "we need to find him first."

"Tomorrow night." Old K pointed to the map, his fingertip resting on a red circle. "These coordinates. Deep beneath the Old Quarter."

"The Silver Cross must know about this by now, too."

"Which means we have to move fast."

The three of them continued on their way. The sound of dripping water persisted—drip, drop.

But the atmosphere had shifted.

Before, it was a flight for survival.

Now, it was a race against time.

Qin Lie led the way, pushing aside the hanging vines.

In the darkness, his eyes flashed briefly.

Then, they returned to their normal state.

The road ahead was still long.

The hunt had only just begun.