Boundless Cultivation-Chapter 68 - Look Who Decided To Show Themselves Part - 1

Alaric and Rennard rode back to the mansion in a horse-drawn coach after their visit to The Sanctum of Radiance. The steady rattling of the vehicle gently swayed his body, lulling him into a state of ease.

He idly observed the bustling crowds —each person engrossed in their own tasks— emerging from and entering residential buildings, commercial shops, and marketplaces. He enjoyed watching people go about their daily lives, but today, his thoughts fixated on something else.

He had finally secured two more resources for reforging his body, which would occupy him for quite some time. He had no doubt he would obtain even more once he conquered The Howling Expanse and beyond.

Although the day had been highly productive, Alaric couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had gone too smoothly—an anomaly in his experience. A sense of unease lingered at the edge of his awareness. He cast a subtle glance at Rennard, who rested with his eyes closed.

No, he wasn’t asleep—just taking a brief reprieve. Rennard had already demonstrated his competence in the short time they had been together, so Alaric had no doubt that his escort and bodyguard would spring into action at the slightest hint of danger.

No sooner had Alaric entertained such a grim thought than their horse-drawn carriage lurched to a stop. The air was filled with distant screams, urgent whistles, and the chaotic din of commotion. Rennard snapped to attention and motioned for Alaric to wait before stepping out to assess the situation.

Alaric chose to remain inside but leaned out of the window to survey the surroundings. Throngs of people dashed across the street. City guards hurried to redirect the crowds and reroute traffic to another section of the road.

Their usual path to the count’s estate was blocked by overturned vehicles—some crushed, others ablaze, spewing thick, black smoke into the sky. It didn’t take Alaric long to piece together what was happening.

When Rennard ducked back inside and relayed what he had discovered, Alaric’s suspicions were confirmed—it was a monster attack. He stepped out of the carriage to get a clearer view of the scene.

Judging by their attire, most of the people in the streets were a mix of commoners and merchants. This road, situated near the commercial district, was far from the residences of high-ranking officials and nobles.

Alaric furrowed his brows. A sudden monster attack at this time of year? No matter how he analyzed it, it didn’t add up. Judging by Rennard’s expression, he too was baffled by the situation.

“All traffic on this side of the road is being diverted,” Rennard informed him. “We can still reach the estate by evening, even with a slight detour.”

Alaric glanced at the coachman, who was trembling with fear. The man clearly wanted to flee the scene as soon as possible.

“No, we’re not leaving yet,” Alaric said, gesturing for the coachman to depart after paying him his due. More city guards continued arriving, disappearing around a corner, likely in pursuit of the monsters.

The few city guards who remained were doing their best to usher people to safe zones, but they were far too few. Alaric spotted many elderly men, women, and children struggling to flee, their slow pace making them vulnerable.

Some were injured, their clothes torn by monstrous claws or fangs, and they could do nothing but limp across the street, leaving a trail of blood in their wake.

“Many people here still need help,” he said, locking eyes with the sergeant. “We’ll aid as many as we can.”

“Are you sure you want to stay here?” Rennard asked, his tone sharp. “My duty is to protect you, not rescue city folk.”

Alaric noticed the frustration tightening Rennard’s features—it mirrored his own. The sergeant wrestled with the choice between safeguarding him and aiding the helpless.

This was a dangerous gamble. If he intervened, he could sustain serious injuries. Worse, he wasn’t certain whether the city guards would even permit them to stay and assist.

Still, he suspected that if Rennard revealed his identity, they would begrudgingly allow it. The real issue was whether Rennard himself would comply. Alaric wasn’t sure he could compel him—but he had to try.

“I don’t care about that,” Alaric said, gesturing at the streets, emphasizing the turmoil. “You will help these people. That is an order.” His gaze sharpened. Now, it was time to see whether the sergeant would yield.

The sergeant didn’t respond immediately. He was weighing his options. Even if he obeyed Alaric’s command and something happened to him, he would still face repercussions. And if he refused, he risked consequences as well.

Truthfully, Alaric wasn’t certain he had the authority to command the sergeant, despite his higher status.

“No, I won’t risk your safety,” Rennard said, his voice taut with frustration. He clenched his fists, his head bowing as he shook it. “I’m sorry.”

A sudden roar tore through the air, followed by a city guard’s desperate cry. Then more creatures emerged, and the guards rushed to intercept them.

The wiry monsters resembled grotesque simians —tall and lean, their bodies covered in matted gray fur, with white eyelids, crimson pupils, and long, whip-like tails devoid of fur.

Their arrival sent fresh terror rippling through the crowd. Whatever fragile order the city guards had managed to impose unraveled in seconds as panicked civilians scattered in all directions.

Amidst the chaos, a young woman clutching the hand of a small boy tripped and collapsed. A monster hurtled toward them.

“Look at them.” Alaric pointed at the mother and child. “Will you abandon them when you have the power to save them? I won’t.”

He didn’t wait for Rennard’s reply. He lunged forward, closing the distance in an instant. The moment he was within range, he launched a mana blast.

The glowing blue sphere struck the monster’s shoulder, shattering bone. The mother plopped to the ground, shielding her son in a desperate embrace, protecting him from the grisly sight.

Alaric rushed to them, extending a hand.

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The mother clasped Alaric’s hand hesitantly before he guided her to safety. He sensed the sergeant’s presence even before Rennard seized his shoulder.

Alaric spun around, meeting the sergeant’s gaze with defiance before softening into a silent plea. He needed to work alongside Rennard, not against him. Even so, he held his ground.

I’m not leaving until the chaos subsides. I’m a cultivator strong enough to defend myself against simple monsters.

His decision was final. Alaric had already made up his mind. It appeared the sergeant understood what Alaric left unsaid. With a heavy sigh, he clicked his tongue in frustration.

“Alright, alright. We’ll help as many as we can,” Rennard conceded begrudgingly, then added sternly, “but you will not leave my sight for a single moment.”

Alaric grinned and nodded. Together, they approached a city guard who appeared to be in charge. It took considerable persuasion to convince them to allow Alaric’s involvement, but in the end, Rennard secured the outcome Alaric wanted.

Side by side, they assisted the elderly and disabled—those unable to flee or who had fallen victim to a sudden monster ambush. Alaric escorted them to safety while Rennard guarded their flanks.

Within twenty minutes, the chaos was largely contained, further proving this was no massive monster horde. Still, Alaric’s instincts nagged at him—this attack wasn’t as simple as it seemed.

The streets, once teeming with terror, now lay deserted. Monster corpses littered the ground, and more city officials arrived to assess the damage. Though not widespread, the destruction had affected many lives.

Rennard approached Alaric, his expression inquisitive. Their task was complete, and it was time to return home. A detour was unavoidable since the main road remained cluttered with debris.

With no coaches or carriages in sight, they had no choice but to walk until they could find transport.

Alaric longed to uncover the origins of the monster attack, but for now, that responsibility rested with the city officials. He would wait for answers.

As they ventured deeper into the city, he noticed the streets remained eerily empty. Word of the attack had spread, and no sane civilian dared to risk venturing outside.

Suddenly, a woman’s desperate cry rang out from a nearby alley. Alaric exchanged a glance with Rennard, and with a shared nod, they sprinted toward the sound.

The alley ended in a dead end, where two men brandishing daggers closed in on a middle-aged woman clutching something—likely a baby—tightly in her arms.

It was clear the thugs had seized the chaos as an opportunity to prey on the vulnerable. Yet something about the situation felt... off.

Rennard wasted no time. He lunged at the attackers, cutting them down with swift, precise swordplay.

The woman collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath. Rennard reached out to steady her, attempting to help her stand. That was when a sudden realization struck Alaric.

Why isn’t the child crying?

He narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the bundle in her arms. Wait… is that even a child?

A cold dread gripped his chest as his danger sense flared.

“Rennard, watch out!” he bellowed.

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But it was already too late.

The woman lunged at Rennard, her hands morphing into massive, razor-sharp claws. The sergeant barely twisted away in time to avoid a lethal blow, but he couldn't evade the deep gash that tore across his chest.

Her body convulsed and expanded, fur sprouting along her limbs. Red eyes gleamed from an elongated face, her wiry frame contorting into its true form—a werewolf.

She pounced, swiping at Rennard, who barely managed to deflect her claws with his sword.

A vicious battle erupted between them — strikes clashed, blades deflected, claws raked through the air. The two were evenly matched, exchanging blows in a deadly dance.

Rennard is holding his ground — for now. But that wound will wear him down soon. I have to help him.

Alaric sprinted forward, intent on aiding him, but skidded to a halt as three more figures vaulted from the rooftops, landing in his path.

Right before his eyes, they began to shift.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

The alley had been empty moments ago, yet now he was surrounded. One of the werewolves lunged at him, and he barely sidestepped in time.

For now, he refrained from striking, opting instead to analyze their attack patterns. Judging by their mana signatures, the trio was at the peak of Tier 2—formidable opponents. If he wanted to escape, he would need to strike with precision and surprise.

The female werewolf battling Rennard radiated an even greater sense of strength. She was pushing the sergeant back, forcing him onto the defensive. From a distance, Alaric couldn't gauge her exact tier, but the tide of the fight was shifting.

The slow, deliberate sound of footsteps echoed behind him.

“Marvelous. What a spectacular duo — the loyal guard dog and his master,” a deep voice drawled.

A tall figure emerged from the shadows, smirking as he clapped slowly, a cigarette dangling between his fingers.

“You’ve done a splendid job aiding the citizens.”

As Alaric’s vision adjusted to the dim alleyway, recognition hit him like a hammer.

The dealer.

The very man who had traded Therin the peak-grade bone-forging pill. The alpha of this werewolf pack.

Alaric clicked his tongue and turned to meet his gaze. Now it all makes sense.

Only beastmen possessed the skill to summon and direct such a large horde of monsters. He had always known the dealer would seek revenge someday. He just hadn’t expected it to be today.

“So, you were the ones who orchestrated the attack?” Alaric asked, already knowing the answer.

“Indeed, it was I—Lucan, at your service.” The dealer performed a mocking bow, his smirk never faltering.

There was no doubt in Alaric’s mind that there wouldn’t be any kidnapping today. No ransom demands. Only corpses.

His gaze flicked to Rennard, who was visibly slowing, his movements growing sluggish. The female werewolf was overpowering him.

I need to get out of this mess—with the sergeant alive.

Alaric devised a plan. There was no guarantee it would succeed, but he had to attempt it.

“So, a pack of fully grown werewolves wants to gang up on a kid?” Alaric sneered. “Where’s your pride? And you call yourselves apex predators? Even street mutts have more dignity than you.”

“Silence, human!” one of the werewolves roared, bristling at the insult. “I’ll tear your throat out!”

“Stand down.” Lucan flicked a hand dismissively at his subordinate before turning his attention back to Alaric. “Fine. I’ll give you a chance. If you manage to wound me, I’ll let you both walk free.”

“Challenge accepted,” Alaric replied, his expression unwavering. The werewolf alpha would have to honor his word in front of his pack. Hopefully.

“This won’t be like last time, boy. I won’t be caught off guard,” Lucan stated, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his stance for the duel.

Alaric was well aware that the only reason he had injured Lucan before was because the werewolf had already been severely injured from his battle with Kael and Fernandes. Well, mostly Kael.

This time, it was a different story.

Though Lucan’s posture appeared relaxed — practically inviting Alaric to strike — Alaric wasn’t fooled. He decided to exercise some caution. He sensed the werewolf channeling a physical enhancement skill. And, it was certain he had a defensive skill as well.

Still, Alaric had his own cards as well. You’ll regret underestimating me and giving me an opening to strike.

Alaric cycled a drop of his root chakra, activating [Zen Flow] and [Mana Strengthening] to optimize his body for combat. Even so, he knew landing a hit wouldn’t be easy unless he could force Lucan to lower his guard.

So far, the werewolf remained vigilant.

But Alaric had a plan.

I have one shot at this.

He lunged at Lucan, his mana gauntlet lance slicing through the air. Lucan sidestepped effortlessly, laughing like a lunatic.

Alaric deliberately slowed his attacks, relying only on mana lances and javelins. As expected, the werewolf dodged them all with ease, his amusement growing. The few that struck his body shattered harmlessly upon impact.

Just as I thought. He’s using a skill similar to [Adaptive Shield], reinforcing selective parts of his body with minimal mana expenditure.

The ploy was working.

Lucan and his subordinates laughed gleefully, convinced that Alaric was struggling to inflict even a scratch. Switching tactics, Alaric coated his fists with layered mana gauntlets and launched a series of punches — only for them to rebound upon contact with Lucan’s body.

Lucan remained unscathed.

When this pattern continued for some time, Alaric failing to wound him even once, the alpha’s amusement faded into boredom. His lips curled into a snarl as impatience took hold.

“I’ve humored you long enough, human,” Lucan growled.

His form began to expand, muscles stretching as his limbs contorted. Fur rippled across his body in waves of dark gray, his fingers elongating into obsidian claws. His teeth sharpened into jagged white fangs as his voice warped into a guttural growl.

Lucan had transformed into his full werewolf form.