The Wolf Deity

I’m a high-tier magical beast from the Demon Wolf Tribe, and I'm also a prince of the wolves. From a young age, I grew into a strong and fierce wolf. My deep blue fur shone like silk, my ears were sharp as blades, my limbs powerful, my teeth sharp, and my eyes a fiery red. I was a handsome wolf prince. And, I was a genius wolf. Genius means standing out from the crowd. I often stood alone on a mountain, gazing at the scenery. The place I often visited was called the "High Hill." Naming it something poetic like that shows that our beast tribe has culture and wisdom. According to the legends passed down through the Western Wolf Tribe, "High Hill," or the big mound, has never changed shape since ancient times. Legend says a terrifying demon is sealed under that mound by the gods. So, it was originally a forbidden place for our tribe, but over the centuries, few beasts paid attention to these old stories. So, I often went up to the big mound alone, standing on top of the demon's head, looking up at the full moon, and letting out a long howl to show my uniqueness. Once, a human artist passed by and painted a picture of me gazing at the moon, giving it a poetic title, "Cyan Wolf Howls at the Moon," which spread among humans. Years later, humans mistakenly thought we wolves like to climb cliffs and howl at the moon on full moon nights. It was actually a beautiful misunderstanding. The truth is, only I did that, and it was just a young wolf with a face full of acne trying to show off how unique he was. Moreover, I seriously doubt that artist was colorblind, because my fur is blue, yet he named the painting "Cyan Wolf Howls at the Moon." Though art allows for exaggeration, this really annoyed me. Luckily, he died early; otherwise, I would have sued him for violating my image rights and defaming me. My life as a wolf changed on a full moon night, turning into a human life from that night onward. At the time, I was on "High Hill," howling melodramatically, or rather, "Blue Wolf Howling at the Moon." As I howled, a star in the sky grew brighter and brighter. I stared at it, and from then on, I gained human wisdom. Because that star hit me, and it wasn't a star made of matter, but a soul from another world. This unfortunate guy came from another realm. Of course, I concluded this after absorbing his experiences and knowledge and fully understanding this world because many of his experiences were impossible in our world at the time. I absorbed the information that this unlucky fellow came from a blue planet in another world. See, blue again. Maybe that's the reason he hit me on the head. This poor guy was involved in something called stocks in that world. His memory told me he was a retail investor, and my wisdom told me retail investors and unlucky fellows are practically family. This retail investor was tormented by a demon to the point of desperation, so he climbed to the top of a building, performed a "Heavenly Flying Immortal," and died. Maybe because of his immense resentment, a trace of his soul didn't dissipate and flew across dimensions to "High Hill," where it met me, the howling wolf, in the closest encounter possible. Of course, years later, when I returned to this place in human form and delved underground, I discovered that there really was an ancient demon god sealed beneath the mountain. This poor fellow had gathered divine power for thousands of years to lure a soul from another realm, intending to execute a "Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell" plan but accidentally hit me, who was singing on the mountaintop. Was gaining wisdom a blessing or a curse for a demon wolf? It's hard to say. For instance, now we're in a fierce battle with the Horned Brown Cattle. Thousands of Blue Wolves have surrounded over a thousand towering Horned Brown Cattle. The battle between the two groups has reached a fever pitch, with the roars of cattle, the howls of wolves, and the tremors of the earth mingling into a strange sound wave. Nearby, a dying comrade lay with one leg crushed by a bull's hoof, its belly ripped open by sharp horns, intestines spilling out. In front of me, comrades were constantly being tossed into the air by the powerful Horned Brown Cattle, while isolated cattle were quickly torn to pieces by dozens of wolves. But I wasn't joining the fight. Not all Blue Wolves possess magical abilities, so those with magic are much more powerful in battle. I could have played a significant role, but I was sulking at the time, and a sulking young wolf is not to be reasoned with. I hated this large-scale casualty trench warfare. The Horned Brown Cattle formed a circle, strong in both offense and defense, while we surrounded them in a larger circle—big circle attacking small circle. The Horned Brown Cattle's strength was more than we could handle because they were as strong as, well, cattle. The worst part was that the Horned Brown Cattle had high magic resistance. Our Demon Wolf clan's specialty, lightning magic, mostly just paralyzed or slowed them down, without causing serious damage. Plus, dozens of the Horned Brown Cattle had innate earth magic, which they used to command earth elements to assist in battle. So after we suffered heavy losses and were about to encircle and annihilate a brown bull, the cattle would expand their circle to support their comrade, making our casualties seem all for naught. I really wanted to order all the wolves to stop this foolish attack, then regroup to break through the cattle's formation, using our numbers for a one-sided s*******r. But these idiots were used to brawling, and a Wolf Prince isn't the Wolf King. They respected me but didn't follow my orders. As I sulked, a clever magical bull in the enemy ranks noticed me and recognized my importance. The wolf tribe is a well-ordered society, and even in battle, lower-tier wolves wouldn't dare come within a yard of me, except for the dying one on the ground. This made me a sitting duck, practically advertising to the enemy, "Come on, I'm a high-ranking magical wolf." That tall, robust Horned Brown Bull clearly wanted to take me out and demoralize our forces. It let out a deafening roar and charged at me with all its might. Meanwhile, I was still sulking, lips pouting. A spoiled, show-offy young Wolf Prince, throwing a tantrum was normal. But on the battlefield, it's a life-or-death matter. The surrounding magical wolves knew this young master's temper well and were aware that my combat skills weren't much worse than my father's, the Wolf King's. So when the Horned Brown Bull charged, they didn't jump in to help; they stepped aside, expecting me to teach the bull a harsh lesson. But when they saw me standing there, dazed and unresponsive, it was already too late to help.