The Witcher: Grinding Experience Starting as a Wolf School Witcher

Chapter 40 Slaying

At the mountaintop, sunlight broke through the clouds, casting a cool glow on a pine forest.

The elven city walls, built of granite, have long been dilapidated by the erosion of countless years, and are covered with moss and winding vines.

Deep within the ruins, near the cliff edge, lies a raised platform.

A cold wind blew by, and two tall, strong figures knelt side by side.

Vesemir and Eskar meditated with their eyes closed, the wolf head badges hanging around their necks humming.

The Elemental Ring, the end of the high mountain trials, is also a place where chaotic energy gathers.

Wizards can draw magic here, while witchers can gain enhancements from signs.

"Da da da!"

Suddenly, a flock of birds took flight from the pine forest behind them.

Immediately following was a series of disordered footsteps.

Vesemir and Eskar opened their eyes at the same time, the former frowning slightly.

Witchers shouldn't make any footsteps unless there's an emergency that's distracting them.

The two stood up, and as expected, three figures soon came into view.

The three men were panting heavily, their foreheads covered in a muddy mixture of sweat and dust, looking quite disheveled.

The silver sword behind them had long since disappeared.

The moment the three saw Vesemir, their cat-like eyes lit up with ecstatic joy.

"Here, here..."

"Old spearhead..."

"Arwen..."

The three of them spoke incoherently, creating a noisy scene, their voices filled with anxiety.

"Quiet!"

Vesemir immediately gave a light shout, which quickly calmed the three of them down.

"Houghton, you tell us."

Horton took a breath and licked his dry lips. "Master Vesemir, Alwin and Aiken are facing Old Spearhead alone to protect us. You must go and save them."

Vesemir's heart seemed to skip a beat, especially when he saw that there were only three people in the group; he had already anticipated this bad outcome.

"When did this happen?"

Horton glanced at the rising sun and said慌张地, "Three hours ago."

Three hours—how many people in this world can survive three hours of an attack by a Cyclops!

Even Vesemir had to avoid direct confrontation in terms of strength, let alone his apprentices Alwin and Paul.

Now, the worst has happened.

"Master Vesemir, what are you standing there for? Let's hurry down the mountain and rescue Arwen!"

"Yes, Aiken is still trapped under the rubble. If we don't get there soon, he'll really die."

The more Vesemir listened, the more terribly gloomy his face became.

"Shut up, all of you!"

A terrifying aura suddenly erupted, and the three of them fell silent.

His amber cat-like eyes looked down the mountain, his heart filled with restlessness.

"Too late..."

Paul asked, puzzled, "Master Vesemir, what do you mean by that?"

Vesemir remained silent, while Eskar looked at them with pity.

"Clearly, their trial has failed; their journey of trials has come to an end."

Paul and his two companions stiffened, and the atmosphere became eerie.

"No!" Paul roared, his eyes red with rage, rushing forward to grab Vesemir's arm. "Vesemir, didn't the trial end at midnight? How can you say the trial is over!"

Horton rushed forward, "Yes, it's not over yet. If you lend a hand, Alwin and the others can still be saved."

Winston's eyes gleamed with rage as he pointed to his back. "This isn't fair! Vesemir, Aiken and the others were trying to save us! They were covering our retreat! Even if they deserve to die, it should be me. Look at the handprint on my back; Aiken left it there. You can't do this! You're just letting me die!"

"That's enough!"

Vesemir turned and roared, grabbing Paul's collar, his voice trembling, "I warned you, I warned you countless times, this is a trial of the mountains, and if you are not careful, death will catch up with you."

"As the final examiner of the trial, I cannot intervene, nor does the Witcher's code forbid it!"

Paul was stopped, his arms hanging limply, and he was pushed back several steps.

Horton gritted his teeth in anger, "You are all cold-blooded and ruthless witchers. If you won't go, I will."

After saying that, he turned to walk down the mountain. Winston clenched his fist, and Paul took a while to react.

Vesemir watched the three figures retreating and said coldly, "Without your silver swords, how can you possibly save them?"

Upon hearing this, the three of them froze in their tracks.

That's right, their silver swords had long been taken by the trolls blocking the way; otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to reach the Elemental Ring so quickly.

Is there really no hope for Alwin, Aiken, and the others?

Pain and resentment were evident on the faces of the three people.

"roar!"

A deafening roar echoed through the sky, and all the animals in the forest scattered like birds and beasts.

The three men felt a chill run down their spines; it was the old spearhead's voice.

Vesemir's cat-like eyes narrowed.

Hearing that voice now was so grating, it seemed to mock him for losing two of his best witcher apprentices, and his heart was bleeding.

He clenched his fists and spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Eskar," he said, taking a black oil bottle from his pouch and tossing it into the brown-haired witcher's arms.

The latter immediately caught it, opened the cork, and a sticky, fishy smell wafted out. Upon smelling it, he recognized the item.

It's sword oil, top quality, and it's the ogre sword oil used to fight Cyclopes, so it's very precious.

“Go down the mountain,” Vesemir took a breath, “you should understand what I mean…”

Aiskar met those vertical pupils.

He could tell that the old man was truly enraged this time.

Silently putting away the sword oil, he nodded and then Eskar sped down the mountain.

Seeing this, Paul and the other two breathed a sigh of relief, but could only silently pray for Alwin and his companion.

……

Beside Killer Lake.

Arwen broke through his stealth and thrust out a sword with all his might, hitting the center of the old spearhead's one-eyed pupil with perfect accuracy!

"roar!"

A deafening roar erupted.

A pair of arms as large as small mountains struck together, carrying a terrifying gale and power, enough to smash the rubble into dust.

Alwin had anticipated this. He formed a hand seal with his left hand, pushed off with both feet, and used the recoil from Ald's impact to draw his silver sword and fly away.

His back slid several meters across the muddy ground, his pupils reflecting the crazed figure of the old spearhead.

Blood flowed continuously from the old spearhead's pupils like a stream, staining his turbid single eye red.

Become!

"roar!"

Old Spearhead frantically slammed his hands on the ground, his roars so loud they made Alwin's eardrums ring.

The latter quickly formed hand seals, casting a Kunen shield around himself while simultaneously wielding his blood-soaked silver sword.

He circled the old spearhead, maintaining a safe distance, remaining silent.

Old Spearhead was panting heavily, his vision filled with crimson. He smashed things wildly, splattering blood all over the ground. Coupled with the previous battle with the ancient little mist demon, he was already exhausted, and his arms hung limply at his sides.

Alwin seized the opportunity, quickly closing in and slashing at the wound on Old Spearhead's right leg with his sword!

"roar!"

Old Spearhead, in pain, went into a frenzy once more, his body thrashing about wildly.

But Alwin's attack was successful, and he had already created distance.

He was like a seasoned hunter, very patient, determined to wear down the old spearhead.

One sword strike, wait; the second sword strike, wait...

Old Spearhead's struggle grew weaker and weaker, and his scalding blood soaked several meters of muddy ground.

"thump!"

The massive figure finally gave out, collapsing to its knees. Its blood-stained single eye gradually lost its luster, and its cracked lips, covered in blood, opened and closed with difficulty, accompanied by painful groans, as it exhaled its last breath.