"Alright, it's rare I visit, and I haven't had good booze in a year. Got a bottle of Louis XVI," Cohen said. Not a drunkard, but he sure loves a fine drink. "For real?" His eyes lit up—research forgotten, booze first.
"Don't tell the dragon clan's five elders I've got good stuff. They blackmailed me for bottles last time. These are from my Dark Dragon crew's black-market hauls," I told Cohen. Been a while since I had quality liquor, so I hit Earth, raiding the stashes of global mafia bosses. Next day, those wine-loving dons raged when their prized bottles vanished. Bet they'd never guess their booze ended up on Flying Dragon Star, twenty billion light-years away. Heh.
Sipping fine wine, knowing you're the only one enjoying it? Pure bliss. (Per the classics: "Down with tyranny, imperialism, feudal relics!" Thud—author's beaten to a pulp by Dark Dragon and hospitalized. Feitian: "Heh, know my power now? I'll crush you even from Earth. I'm the emperor, who's scared? I'm a rogue mobster. Fine, since you're jealous, take a few bottles, but write me up nice." Classics: "Thanks, Boss Fei! You're the model for today's youth!")
A week later, I sat, brimming with energy, in the military conference hall. Commanders of all districts, legions, staff, and logistics sat neatly in rows.
"Everyone, intel from the demon realm says demons and gods may clash soon—a big war's coming. So, starting now, all districts and main legions will conduct intensive training. Per the new Military-Martial Standard (based on Cohen's energy tiers, minus Tier 4, keeping three tiers and nine levels), audit everyone top to bottom. Results go into the database. Tell the troops: higher martial tiers mean bigger rewards and ranks based on skill. That's it for today. Take this training seriously. The demon realm's full of unknown dangers, and with our average strength below theirs, we can't slack. Absolute defense doesn't mean we underestimate enemies. Got it?" I barked.
"Swoosh!" Every officer stood. "We'll complete the mission!"
"Good, I'm counting on you."
I put serious thought into their tests. High-intensity combat simulators were built for soldier sparring. Each tier's simulator had unique programming, so training grounds were split into six zones, one per level. Levels 7-9 were beyond current soldiers, so we skipped them. For realism, I sent teams to the Beast Forest to capture magical beasts, sorted by grade. Soldiers could knock them out but not kill them, upping the challenge. It honed agility and ferocity. When I told the troops, they were pumped to start. Hope they don't curse me later.
With the soldiers set, it was my turn. I'm heading to the Beast Forest in two days, so tonight's overtime. "All good? Anyone not satisfied, raise a hand," I crowed, eyeing the row of panting, ravishing wives sprawled naked on the bed. Since my power surged, dual cultivation's been a game-changer. I reckon my wives are at Martial Tier 4, Xue'er maybe higher.
Something brushed my back. No question—Little Kitty. "What's up, Kitty? Want more? You're all red," I teased. "Mmm, I want a baby with Brother," she said, blushing, her cute tail swishing. At my lady's request, we got to work—another round of enchanting passion. My mission these two days: make a baby for Comrade Kitty. Thanks to her tireless spirit, when I left, she lay blissfully staring at her pale belly, as if pregnant already.
Standing at the Beast Forest's edge, I roared, "江湖, your emperor's here!" Cue mass faceplants. My wives wanted to come, but under my "big stick" authority, they stayed put. Now, it's just me, a long, narrow back-blade of special metal that amplifies true qi. Other gear's in my space ring.
Two kilometers in, a "howl" sounded, and a man-sized adult magic wolf charged out. Lucky start. Its sleek black fur glistened, its face so charming you'd call it foxy. White fluff on its legs was adorable. Noticing milk dripping from its teats, I realized this was a she-wolf, and a stunner among them. Maybe my dashing looks flustered her—she howled a greeting, drooling. C'mon, no need for that.
Magic wolves are pack animals, usually in pairs. This one seemed part of a duo split from the pack. Wolves don't appear at the forest's edge, so this nursing mother likely left an injured mate to hunt. Odd, since males typically hunt, meaning the male's probably hurt.
The she-wolf sized me up, sensing a human expert. Most would flee or attack, but I stood unfazed, no killing intent, just eyeing her. She grew uneasy as my gaze lingered on her teats. Staring at a wolf's chest? She saw me swallow, and rage flared—she'd never met a human so "lewd," coveting her pups' milk. Unforgivable. She charged, forgetting I'm a master.
In my view, this was nuts. Smart magic wolves should know I'm no pushover. My charming gaze should've tamed her—why attack? A lover of animals, I stowed my blade in the ring, facing her barehanded. I dodged her swipe, and we circled, trading moves. She lunged; in a flash, I mounted her back, aiming for her neck but misjudging, grabbing her chest—two teats, one per hand. My legs clamped her waist. She leaped high, halting midair to throw me off with inertia, but I stuck like fur.
Desperate, she howled for her mate to chase off this "perverted" human—no, eat him. "Scream all you want, it's useless," I taunted, thinking she was despairing. If I understood, I'd be shocked—she was yelling, "Hubby, help! A creep's stealing our pups' milk, and I can't beat him!" She bolted toward her mate, me on her back.
A black shadow swiped at my head. I ducked, dodging it. Another howl—a male wolf, leg wounded, blood fresh. My guess was spot-on. The she-wolf stopped, gazing tenderly at him, as if I was done for. This male was a third bigger—a wolf king, ousted by rivals due to injury, fleeing with his wife and three pups. Hearing her distress, he thought enemies had followed and harassed his beautiful mate. Unforgivable—he'd tear them apart.
But it was just me, a human. "Foolish human, get off my wife. I'll give you a fair duel," he growled. I didn't understand, assuming a challenge. Still gripping her teats, my hands numbed from clenching, so I loosened and retightened—natural, but I forgot what I was holding. The motion squeezed milk from her full teats. She shuddered, collapsing to her knees. Caught off guard, I fell. She scurried to her mate, licking him.
The male, seeing my "assault," raged. This human dared molest a wolf king's wife and waste the pups' milk—a death sentence in his eyes. His furious glare told me a fight was inevitable. Magic wolf kings are smart and tough in the Beast Forest, but compared to me, it's a one-sided thrashing. After tossing him six times, the she-wolf ran up, yipped, and licked him, comforting him. Comfort, yeah—no better word for it.
Soon, she returned, a white pup in her mouth, placing it at my feet, then turning away sadly. I saw tears—wolf tears. The pup yipped; she licked it and rejoined her mate. The male howled in grief.
I got it. Thinking I spared her mate to take a pup, she offered one to save him. I crouched, picking up the adorable pup, its red tongue licking my finger, clueless. The she-wolf watched from afar, eyes misty, refusing to leave. It was moving—motherly love transcends species, the purest, grandest love. I walked to the wolves, pup in arms. The male howled, shielding her, thinking I meant harm.
I said nothing—pointless anyway. I set the pup by the she-wolf. She licked it joyfully, thrilled I returned her baby. Figuring she hunted from hunger, I piled beef jerky before them, gesturing to eat. Wary, they hesitated. I ate some to show it was safe. Their smarts got the hint. Starved, they dove in, gobbling the jerky. The pup nursed, eyes closed, oblivious. Its innocent look made me chuckle, especially with these near-sentient beasts.
Done, I sipped red wine. The wolves sniffed the aroma. Stunned, I poured half a bowl, setting it before them. The she-wolf tasted it, didn't like it, and stopped. The male tried, then lapped it up, cleaning the bowl. Damn, a boozing wolf? These beasts have character. Back when I came with groups, animals sensed and avoided us. Rapid Response camps now have electric fences, so this is my first real beast encounter—books don't do them justice.
Then, right in front of me, the wolves started mating. Talk about China's old saying: "Full belly, lustful thoughts." Beasts indeed—smarter than most, but still shameless. The she-wolf, unfazed, enjoyed her mate's thrusts, no hint of modesty, while the pup nursed. Weird vibe. Incest, I thought, if the pup were grown. "Damn, I came to train, not critique wolf morality."
Wolf packs have rules—no mating with parents, like horses. Flying Dragon Star's old records skip this; folks were too busy surviving to study beast mating. You'd be lucky not to be called a weirdo for asking. Most beast knowledge comes from hunters or witnesses.
Bored, I dusted off and moved on. The wolf family kept at their business. "Damn, what a start," I muttered. Here's hoping the rest of this trip's a real challenge.