For the rest of the day, Huang Biren and the white wolf spent their time in silent companionship, playing the guqin. They both knew this would be the first of many nights they would be apart, as Huang Biren could not take a demonic beast to a royal birthday celebration, and the grand event was scheduled to last two whole days.
When evening arrived, Huang Biren prepared herself, putting on a stunning blue dress and almost no makeup, which she didn't even need. When the wolf saw her, his heart pounded abnormally fast, almost causing him to faint. Huang Biren kissed the wolf gently on his head before stepping into a golden carriage that quickly departed the Huang mansion. The wolf dismissed the unusual heart rate as a mere side effect of getting old and went into Huang Biren's empty room to cultivate. Though his progress remained painfully slow, he still cultivated diligently each night while continuously trying to perfect his own technique.
After a few hours, the wolf fell asleep, his heavy snores echoing in the quiet room. However, the brief reprieve withered into nothingness, as his mind was soon consumed by an abyssal haunting. Normally, this would have been the moment Huang Biren woke up to play her guqin and sing to soothe his fractured mind, but tonight, the wolf was entirely on his own.
In his dream, the wolf watched the violent death of his pack repeatedly. With each horrifying recollection, the images became clearer, causing the wolf to shake with terror as tears rolled down his white, hairy face. Anyone seeing him at this moment would feel waves of immense sadness and suffering emanating from his body—a sadness that could easily drown any normal person. One might wonder how the wolf had survived this long with such deep loss. The answer was simple: Huang Biren. She was the only one who truly knew how much the wolf suffered and endured. Though she didn't know the root cause, she protected him. To anyone who saw the wolf during the day, he was nothing more than a cute, happy pet, but Huang Biren knew better.
By the time morning came, the white wolf was at his absolute limit. The dream had violently renewed his hatred and reaffirmed his resolve for vengeance. Throughout the day, the wolf stayed confined to the room, deeply meditating on his cultivation technique. When night came once again, the wolf was prepared to face his terrors in the name of vengeance. He fell asleep as usual after cultivation, and when the nocturnal carnage began in his mind, the wolf tried to anchor his soul against the tide, forcing himself to witness the slaughter through a glass veil.
As time went by, the wolf grew remarkably calmer, actively analyzing the memories to eliminate all internal weakness. In his mind, being unable to sleep due to trauma was a stranglehold that any being aiming for true success had to obliterate with ruthless intent. Instead, trauma had to become a driving force on this road to power. As the wolf watched and meticulously analyzed the memories, he fell into a deep trance where he lost all sense of self. He didn't know who or what he was; all he knew was that he simply existed.
When morning came, the wolf did not wake up and instead continued to sleep. In his subconscious mind, the wolf had become thoroughly obsessed with the specific technique Elder Huo Yuanjia had used to kill his mother in such a bizarre, draining manner. When the wolf finally woke up late in the evening, his yellow eyes flashed with a terrifying light, and he held a single, absolute thought: "I have finally completed my cultivation technique, and this time, it is perfect."