Ch 87: My Wolf Husband

Lin Shuishi lay slumped on Little Black Horse’s back, racing across the charred land, burned black by the thunderstorm’s fire, galloping toward the wolf den.

A dozen strong white wolves ran alongside him, encircling him in a protective formation, guiding him safely through the panicked, stampeding herds of fleeing animals.

But the night was dark, vast, and endless. Thick clouds shrouded the sky. When he looked up, there were no stars, no moon—only the burning glow of the blazing forest behind them, casting a crimson hue across the entire path home.

Weakly, he shifted his body on the broad back of the horse. The sharp waves of pain in his lower abdomen were growing stronger and more frequent. His pale face was drenched in sweat, only to be dried instantly by the rushing night wind, then dampened again by cold sweat, repeating in an endless cycle.

He clenched his teeth against the pain, gripping his belly tightly, focusing on the life inside him. But his stomach felt hard and unbearably heavy, unnervingly still. There was no movement, no sign of fetal activity.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he rubbed his abdomen in an attempt to soothe it. The aching in his lower back had worsened until he couldn’t sit up straight anymore. Then, a sudden, intense wave of pain crashed over him, sending tremors through his entire body.

It took him a long time to regain his senses. With trembling hands, he reached behind him, only to feel warm fluid seeping down his legs.

His water had broken.

His heart dropped. Disaster. At this time—of all times.

Fear and sorrow gripped him. His little one—he was only a few months along. If he gave birth now, would the baby even survive?

Lin Shuishi gripped the black horse’s mane, but then, he caught the scent of blood on his own hands.

Straining to keep his voice steady, he whispered hoarsely, “Faster—run faster!”

They had to reach the wolf den as soon as possible.

The black horse let out a sharp, piercing neigh and surged forward with newfound speed. Its strong, slender legs galloped through the darkness at full sprint.

The surrounding white wolves also caught the scent of blood, the unmistakable scent of impending birth. Their movements grew restless, some running even closer to sniff at him.

The pain was reaching its peak. The amniotic fluid had nearly drained.

Finally, they reached the base of the mountain ridge.

Lin Shuishi, completely spent, slipped from the slowing horse’s back. Before he could hit the ground, a white wolf lunged forward, catching him on its back, leaping swiftly up the ridge toward the wolf den.

But before they could reach the cave, Lin Shuishi was already rolling off the wolf’s back, collapsing onto the thick grass of the slope.

Gritting his teeth, he bore down.

His entire body was drenched in sweat, his gums clenched so tightly they bled, filling his mouth with the taste of iron.

The wolf pack stirred, alarmed. White wolves, young and old, crawled out of their dens and filled the mountain ridge, watching in silence—but none dared approach the laboring figure.

The wolf den was eerily quiet.

Only the sound of Lin Shuishi’s ragged breathing and the occasional low, pained growl broke the stillness.

At the darkest hour of the night, while a giant wolf fought against an all-consuming fire, one person struggled for new life on a silent, desolate mountain ridge.

One moving, one still.

One life ending, one life beginning.

The cycle of the world continued as it always had.

Time passed, and Lin Shuishi’s clenched fists slowly loosened. His vision blurred.

The unborn child of the Wolf God Clan faced a difficult decision.

Separated from its parent’s body, it could no longer draw strength from them. Without the child’s power to sustain him, the frail human frame was doomed to collapse.

Yet, within the womb, the tiny being was running out of time. The protective fluid had drained away—each passing second brought it closer to suffocation.

But in Lin Shuishi’s eyes, there remained a flickering ember of determination.

With the last ounce of his strength, he took a deep breath, raised his hands, and pushed with all his might.

Pain exploded through his body.

And then—darkness.

---

Meanwhile, in the burning forest, Fuli led a gathering of mountain beasts, hastily carving out a wide firebreak. But just as they finished, the flames surged forward, consuming everything in their path.

He ordered the animals to retreat, but he himself plunged deeper into the fire, uprooting trees near the firebreak, widening the barrier.

Patches of his silver-white fur had already been scorched black.

Amidst his relentless effort, he suddenly stopped.

His heart gave a violent lurch.

His golden eyes widened in shock.

The other animals, still digging the trench, turned in confusion, watching as the giant wolf froze.

Then, without hesitation, he let out an earth-shaking roar—his voice trembling uncontrollably.

And then, he turned.

Without a second thought, he bolted toward the mountain ridge.

---

Lin Shuishi felt unbearably light.

It was as if he had become the wind itself, running endlessly, endlessly.

No exhaustion. No destination.

The sensation was familiar—so familiar it made his heart ache.

He had run like this before, hadn’t he?

He passed mountains and rivers, grasslands and streams.

The animals he sped past all turned to look at him, their eyes kind, curious.

A cheetah chased him for a while before giving up.

A hawk followed for some distance, then soared away.

A grazing goat approached, then scampered off.

Right—why was he running like this?

Why wouldn’t his legs stop?

Ah, it was because of that whispering voice.

A sound both distant and intimate, clear and mysterious, murmuring in his ears—gentle, like a sigh.

It whispered softly to him, as though telling a story.

But when he tried to listen carefully, the words blurred again.

It was something ancient, something beyond human understanding.

He couldn’t quite grasp it.

He was running out of time.

His frustration grew, and so he ran faster.

The wind howled past his ears.

The rain traced cold streaks down his face.

The world around him blurred as time twisted, reality bending and shifting.

And then, something changed.

His vision lowered.

His feet—no longer human.

What had been two legs became four.

He leapt across vast rivers.

He soared over deep valleys.

His gaze sharpened, his sense of smell heightened, the world unfolding before him in a flood of scents and sounds.

The whispers became clearer, the words forming meaning.

They spoke to him like a guide, like a parent to a child.

Run. Keep running.

The sky is your roof, the earth your home. The mountains are your inheritance.

Then, sound and time blurred together.

A swirl of light and shadow.

And in the distance, he saw it.

The crystal-clear lake, its waters impossibly blue, eternal and unchanging.

It was the boundary between illusion and reality.

The place where dreams and waking life overlapped.

Without hesitation, Lin Shuishi leapt forward—

And plunged into its depths.

---

Fuli, disheveled and frantic, stormed into the wolf den.

The mountain echoed with the howls of wolves.

And then—he saw him.

Lin Shuishi, lying utterly still on the grass.

The Wolf Queen lay beside him, using her body to keep him warm.

But his chest did not rise.

His belly, still round, did not move.

Fuli’s bloodshot eyes widened.

With a feral snarl, he transformed into a massive wolf, leaping onto the mountain peak.

Curling his massive body around his mate’s frozen form, he tore at his soaked clothing, his hot tongue feverishly licking at his icy skin.

No breath.

No heartbeat.

Fuli felt himself descending into madness.

But then—

A stirring.

He went still, ears pressed to Lin Shuishi’s chest.

A heartbeat.

Growing stronger.

Like the most beautiful music in the world.

As dawn broke, Lin Shuishi’s eyes snapped open.

His pupils, no longer human—glowed a deep, golden amber.

A primal roar erupted from his throat, his stomach contracting, golden beast markings flooding his pale skin.

And then—

With the first light of dawn, a baby’s first cry rang through the wolf den.

Tears dripped onto Lin Shuishi’s forehead.

He smiled weakly at Fuli, cradling the fragile child against his chest.

“The night has ended. The sun has risen.”

“Let’s call him A’Tong.”