The wild wolf was provoked by this action and retreated a few steps, letting out a series of low growls. Like dogs, wolves are also wary of the motion of bending down to pick up stones. Perhaps this is inherited in their bloodline—after all, since ancient times, these creatures have clashed with primates. Although they have won more often than lost, they have also been battered time and again by stones and fruit hurled by the latter.

“Damn it!” Realizing the wild wolf hadn’t attacked while he bent down, Peter Bolton waved the stone in his right hand a few times, then quickly crouched again, stuffing more shards of stone into his backpack.

“Grrrr…” Peter Bolton’s repeated crouching to pick up stone shards without actually attacking infuriated the wild wolf, which let out another string of low growls. Then, its hind legs suddenly tensed, launching its body into the air. In midair, its snow-white teeth flashed coldly.

“Get lost!” Peter Bolton decisively hurled the stone in his right hand at the wild wolf, but missed. The wolf’s attack was a feint, meant to test his reaction speed and ability to fight back. Now, his only stone was gone.

“Awoooo—” The wolf, having successfully deceived him, let out a triumphant howl. Its two front legs alternated in a sideways step, searching for the best angle and moment to attack.

In the next instant, it instinctively sensed danger, lowered its body, and quickly retreated with all four paws.

Peter Bolton had thrown away the stone, but now gripped the backpack strap in his hand. The backpack itself was stuffed with that copy of “Chunxiao’s Dream” and shards of stone, turning it into a giant flail.

The knockoff backpack from Yiwu was even sturdier than the genuine article. “Chunxiao’s Dream” was beautifully printed, made with quality paper, and heavy enough. Previously, the only thing lacking when using the backpack as a weapon was hardness. The hastily stuffed stone shards had just made up for that flaw!

“Come on, bite me, come on, bite me!” Swinging the giant “flail” in the air a couple of times, Peter Bolton shouted arrogantly at the wild wolf. In that moment, he was like an angry little bird!

Chapter Two: Heh heh, Good Thing I’ve Read This Story Before

“Grrrr, grrrr…” The wild wolf quickly retreated two more steps, its growls low and agitated.

With its intelligence, it clearly couldn’t figure out why its prey suddenly had a new weapon in hand, and why that weapon felt so dangerous.

“Come on, bite me, come on, bite me!” Seeing the wild wolf forced to retreat again and again, Peter Bolton stared into its eyes, his shouts growing even more brazen.

He didn’t know if he could actually smash the wolf’s head with the backpack. But he knew one thing for sure: if he didn’t scare the wolf off today, he’d end up as its food.

His childhood and teenage survival experience in the orphanage also told him clearly: if you want to scare off the bullies, you have to act fiercer and meaner than they are. Even if you’re terrified inside, you have to grit your teeth and hold your ground. Otherwise, what awaits you is a beating—and days or even months of humiliation!

“Grrrr, grrrr…” The wild wolf, unable to figure out Peter Bolton’s intentions, growled as it shifted its gaze to the woods on the left, all four paws alternating as it continued to slowly back away.

The wolf was about to give up! The sight made Peter Bolton instantly overjoyed. But before he could even begin to relax his taut nerves, his vision suddenly blurred. The wild wolf leapt diagonally forward five or six meters, then sprang into the air again, its bloody maw lunging straight for his carotid artery from the front side!

“Ah—” Peter Bolton let out an uncontrollable scream, closed his eyes, and instinctively swung the backpack forward with his right hand.

The wolf’s leap traced a zigzag path, so the first swing hit nothing, making him stumble. The stench hit his nose, making his stomach churn. Immediately after, a sharp pain accompanied by the sound of canvas tearing shot from his thigh through his whole body.

The wild wolf had also missed its bite, thanks to his stumble. But one of the wolf’s front paws landed on his left thigh. His sturdy jeans were instantly ripped open in three long gashes by the wolf’s claws, and blood quickly seeped out along the torn edges.

“Ah—” The pain made Peter Bolton scream in agony. Instinctively swinging his right arm again, he spun the backpack in a circle and smashed it down in front of him. “Bang!” The heavy object collided with flesh, and a wave of vengeful satisfaction surged in his heart. The wild wolf’s wail followed immediately, echoing across the open field. “Owooo—”

“Ah—, ah—” Peter Bolton kept screaming, wildly swinging the backpack in front of him. Shrubs and wild grass were knocked askew, and the wolf’s wails grew more and more distant.

“Ah—” Forcing himself to open his eyes and check the situation, he saw the wild wolf had retreated more than fifteen meters away. One front leg was curled painfully against its chest, and blood was visible at its nostrils and mouth.

But the beast still refused to leave, supporting itself with its other three legs, standing in the grass, looking up at him, its two ghostly green eyes filled with hatred.

“Get lost, get out of here!” Peter Bolton struggled to take a few steps forward, swinging the backpack like a flail in front of him. The wound on his thigh was pulled, and the sharp pain made him stumble again.