Chapter 24: The Vast Wolf Pack

Nighttime is when fish are at their most active in search of food. Without much effort, Lu Chen caught a river catfish weighing over half a pound. This fish, also known as whiskered catfish or river corner fish, closely resembles the regular catfish, though its flesh is coarser and the flavor inferior. However, river catfish are renowned for their tenacity, able to survive in the harshest of environments. In his previous life, news stories often reported people finding these fish alive in city sewers, and even thriving in cesspools. Because of this, people in the south seldom cared to eat them. Still, this particular fish lived in the river and seemed relatively clean. Besides, with hunger gnawing at him, Lu Chen could not afford to be choosy.

Soon after, he caught a bream as well. Having consumed over two pounds of food in one sitting, his strength gradually returned.

Just as he was about to head back toward the cave, a series of chittering sounds carried to him from a hundred meters away, as though some animals were frolicking. Dense, pitch-black reeds blocked his view.

"What could that be?" Driven by curiosity, Lu Chen flicked his tail and silently glided over.

In the moonlight, several small, brownish-black creatures appeared before his eyes. Each was a little over half a meter long, with flat heads, protruding eyes, and small ears. Long whiskers sprouted from their mouths, giving them a comical, endearing look.

Otters—or perhaps sea otters? The two were similar not only in name, but also in appearance and diet. The main difference lay in their habitats: one in freshwater, the other in the sea. But when he spotted the long, slender tails trailing behind them, Lu Chen was finally certain—these were otters.

In his childhood, adults in the countryside would often frighten children away from swimming in the river by warning them about fearsome "water monkeys" that ate people. In truth, these so-called water monkeys were simply otters. Lu Chen had once witnessed his neighbor's grandfather catching one and selling it for ten yuan. Though he never saw one again, the memory was vivid.

He had not expected to encounter otters on the outskirts of the Tiannan Mountain Nature Reserve, and the discovery delighted him. Before him was a family of five—otter parents and three young. Their fur gleamed with oily luster, a sign of good living and abundant food.

To Lu Chen, these creatures were also excellent food sources. Though he was already full tonight, he decided to keep them in mind for later.

Suddenly, one of the large otters on the bank seemed to sense something and let out a sharp squeak. The playful group instantly leaped into the water and vanished in a flash.

Chittering and howling soon echoed from deeper within the forest. Carried by the mountain breeze, a faint scent of blood drifted to him.

Wolves hunting prey? Lu Chen recognized the familiar sound. The southern forest wolves were generally gray wolves, slightly smaller than their northern kin—about 1.2 meters in length, weighing around sixty pounds. With his current fighting prowess, Lu Chen stood no chance against such beasts.

Yet he felt no fear, nor did he intend to flee. In fact, he climbed up a large riverside tree for a better view. Although wolves were fierce, they could not climb trees, making his perch safe. And if danger truly arose, he could simply leap into the river and retreat.

Thud, thud, thud…

Heavy breathing grew closer and closer!

From his vantage on a sturdy branch, peering through the dense foliage, Lu Chen saw several black shapes thirty meters away, charging directly toward his position.

A herd of wild boars in a panicked stampede.

Not far behind them, a pack of short, swift figures gave chase. Their eyes glowed an eerie green in the dark, flickering like ghostly flames.

A pack of gray wolves! Lu Chen drew in a sharp breath, astonishment flickering in his beastly eyes. How could such a large wolf pack exist in the subtropical south?

He knew that while gray wolves were pack hunters, their groups typically weren't large—usually around ten, led by an alpha male. This was the wisdom gleaned from centuries of survival: maintaining balance between hunting efficiency and the food supply, optimizing benefit. An overly large pack would mean not every member could contribute fully during hunts, leading to wasted resources.

Moreover, to keep everyone fed, they would need to hunt more frequently and in greater numbers. In times of plenty, wolf packs could grow larger. In his previous life, the largest observed pack counted over thirty wolves—during harsh winters, multiple packs would sometimes join forces to hunt massive prey, forming temporary groups of dozens or even over a hundred, disbanding once the hunt ended.

Yet such large packs existed only in the vast, cold northern plains. In the dense southern forests, gray wolf packs were generally small.

Glancing down, Lu Chen roughly counted more than twenty wolves beneath the tree. The lead wolf was visibly larger than the others, nearly a meter tall—clearly the alpha.

Such a large pack could only exist where food was abundant—or where the presence of fierce natural enemies forced the wolves to band together for survival.

Lu Chen was suddenly grateful he had chosen to settle on the outskirts, rather than venturing upstream with his young charges. He had no idea what other fearsome beasts lurked deeper in the mountains. This was the Tiannan Mountain Nature Reserve of the Blue Star Xia Kingdom, not the land of his former life; anything was possible, and he could not rely on knowledge of past flora and fauna to judge this world.

The appearance of the wolf pack cast a heavy, bloodthirsty tension over the night. Even the chirping of insects in the grass faded to whispers.

Under the alpha's command, more than twenty gray wolves swiftly surrounded the wild boars.

Howls and growls filled the air as the wolves circled their prey.

Many have heard the saying, "One pig, two bears, three tigers," but few understand its true meaning. It does not refer to the attack strength of these beasts, but rather the level of threat they pose to humans. The power of an adult wild boar must not be underestimated: weighing several hundred kilograms, capable of explosive bursts of seventy or eighty kilometers per hour, and armed with two sharp tusks, a charging boar is like a speeding compact car—able to seriously injure or even disembowel a person.

Their bite force, too, is formidable—over two hundred kilograms, more than enough to snap human bones with ease.

Yet as herbivores, wild boars are naturally suppressed by the bloodline of carnivores. Even the fiercest, largest male boars, when confronted by predators, will instinctively flee rather than fight. Only when desperate and with no escape will they turn and battle for their lives.

The boars before him were not particularly large—a mother leading several half-grown piglets. Terrified by the relentless approach of the wolf pack, the mother boar cared only for escape, frantically charging toward any opening in the encirclement.

But before she could break through, the wolf king, who had been lurking nearby, suddenly sprang forward. With a ferocious bite to her hind leg, he clamped down and dragged her back.