The Last Werewolf in History

Chapter 5

Qin Lie reached out, his fingertips brushing against the glass.

It was icy cold.

A thin, oily sheen shimmered across the surface of the wine, reflecting his bloodshot eyes. As his fingers tightened their grip, the glass let out a faint, mournful whimper. *Crack.* Fissures snaked across the cup's surface like a spiderweb.

Dark red wine seeped through the gaps between his fingers.

It felt scalding.

It wasn't a matter of temperature, but rather something burrowing beneath his skin, driving deep into his very bones. The short sword at his waist began to vibrate, thudding against his thighbone through the fabric of his clothes. Its rhythm synchronized with his heartbeat. *Thump. Thump. Thump.*

Su Hongxiu stood at the edge of the shadows. Her hand rested on a first-aid kit, her knuckles turning white from the strain.

"Qin Lie."

Her voice was barely a whisper.

Qin Lie did not look up. The world within his field of vision was fading away. The gray walls turned black, the lights dimmed; only Old K's murky right eye glowed with a blinding, piercing intensity. Something within his chest cavity began to swell, pressing outward against his ribs. Breathing became a struggle; every inhalation felt like swallowing a mouthful of shattered glass.

His Adam's apple bobbed. A guttural roar caught in his throat.

Old K remained motionless. The hammer he had been holding now rested on the table, its iron handle still quivering with residual heat.

"Crush it," Old K said.

Qin Lie exerted his full strength. Shards of glass pierced deep into his palm. Blood—black blood—mixed with the wine and dripped onto the floor.

The pain did not bring him back to his senses; instead, it acted like oil poured onto a raging fire. A crimson glow began to bloom at the periphery of his vision. It wasn't light, but rather a kind of filter overlaying his sight. He could see the carotid artery throbbing in Su Hongxiu's neck, the veins pulsing beneath Old K's wrist. Every vulnerability lay exposed before him.

*Kill.*

The impulse surged within him. There was no reason for it—only the urge.

Qin Lie sprang to his feet. The legs of his chair scraped against the concrete floor, emitting a jarring, ear-splitting shriek.

Su Hongxiu recoiled half a step, her back slamming against the metal shelving behind her. A wrench tumbled from the rack, clattering loudly as it hit the ground.

"Your eyes..."

Qin Lie raised a hand to cover his face. His fingernails turned black and elongated, piercing through the skin on the back of his hand. Raw power surged wildly through his muscles, desperate to find an outlet. He snatched up the metal cup sitting on the table. A solid steel cup.

Five fingers closed around it.

The metal let out a teeth-grinding shriek of distortion—like molding clay.

Old K finally rose to his feet. His single eye fixed on Qin Lie's trembling arm.

"Can't keep it under control?"

Qin Lie nodded. A low growl rumbled in his throat—a sound utterly inhuman.

Old K drew a syringe from his waist. It held a blue liquid. Without a word of explanation, he plunged it directly into the side of Qin Lie's neck.

A sensation of icy coldness spread instantly.

That burning fever within him was forcibly suppressed. Qin Lie's knees went weak; he slumped to the ground, gasping for breath. Sweat dripped from his chin, striking the concrete floor and leaving dark, wet splotches.

"The Werewolf Bloodline," Old K said, withdrawing the syringe. "They weren't completely wiped out a century ago. The survivors were simply rounded up and bred in captivity."

Qin Lie looked up. The bloodshot redness in his eyes had yet to fully recede.

"The Silver Cross Society," Old K continued, turning his back to them as he walked toward the workbench. "They don't kill werewolves. They *modify* them. They strip away the mind and leave only the fangs and claws. Biological weapons—do you understand?"

Su Hongxiu picked up the wrench lying on the floor. Her hands were still trembling.

"The SkyNet Protocol," Old K said, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands. "Before it goes fully operational, you need to learn how to handle this life you've been given. Otherwise, you'll just end up serving as free gear for the enemy."

Qin Lie braced his hands against the ground and pushed himself back to his feet. His legs were still unsteady, but the primal urge to kill had receded.

"How do I learn?"

"Breathe." Old K tossed a small booklet toward him. Its cover was yellowed with age, the corners curled and dog-eared. "An ancient method. It's never been tested on a werewolf before. Give it a try."

Qin Lie caught the booklet. The paper was coarse to the touch, printed with diagrams of the human body's meridians. Red lines marked specific points—all of them vital pressure points.

"Start tonight," Old K said, glancing out the window. The searchlight from a hovering rotorcraft swept across the wall once more; the beam of light paused at the window—three seconds—then moved on.

"They've found this place," Su Hongxiu said.

"Finding it won't do them any good," Old K replied, and pulled the main power switch. The basement plunged into darkness; only a few emergency lights flickered on, casting an eerie green glow. "This place used to be an air-raid shelter. No matter how keen the Silver Cross Society's noses are, it'll still take them some time to dig their way in."

Qin Lie flipped open the booklet. On the first page, two words were written: *Breath Control*.

"Reading it won't do you any good," Old K said, lighting a cigarette. The flare of the flame illuminated the wrinkles etched across his face. "You have to *practice* it. Practice until you can control your heartbeat, control the flow of your blood, and control that primal urge to kill."

Qin Lie closed the booklet.

"How long?"

"That depends on how tough your constitution is," Old K replied, blowing a smoke ring. "Usually, it takes six months. You, however, have only three days."

Three days.

Qin Lie didn't ask why. He tucked the booklet inside his jacket and walked over to a corner of the room. Several training dummies stood there—made of leather and stuffed with sand.

"Starting now."

Old K snuffed out his cigarette butt.

"Hongxiu, keep an eye on his pupils. If they turn red, administer the injection. Don't go easy on him."

Su Hongxiu nodded. She walked over to the control console and placed her hand on the box containing the syringes.

Qin Lie positioned himself in front of a dummy. He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing.

Inhale: his abdomen swelled. Exhale: his shoulders sank.

The power surging within him felt like a trapped beast—pacing and thrashing inside a cage. With every breath, it strained against its bonds, desperate to break free.

*Thud.*

Qin Lie threw a punch. The dummy caved inward, and its sandy filling spewed out through the ruptured seams.

Not enough.

He threw another punch—this time, channeling that raw power. The veins on his arm bulged, and dark, intricate patterns began to spread across his skin.

*Thud.* The dummy went flying, slamming into the wall. Its metal stand snapped in two.

Old K stood in the shadows, taking notes.

"Heart rate: 120. Pupils dilating. Keep going."

Qin Lie paid him no mind. He just kept punching.

The second dummy. The third.