157. The First Clash Between Cat and Wolf.

"I saw it with my own eyes—a lone old wolf and four wolf pups walked into that inn," the approaching figure reported as they got closer.

"Hmm."

The black-clad figure nodded, then turned to look at the others dressed in black, who were slouched and standing haphazardly.

"Is everyone ready?"

"Psh~," sneered one of the black-clad figures leaning against a tree with crossed legs. "What's there to prepare for? It's just a bunch of apprentices."

"When the time comes, they'll probably still be asleep... Tsk, tsk... Dying in a dream might not be the worst thing; at least they won't wet their pants or cry for their mothers out of fear."

"Hahaha~" The four surrounding black-clad figures burst into laughter.

They were all filled with dissatisfaction.

Having them, who had been witchers for at least four or five years and had killed at least two or three dozen people, go after a few wolf pups who had just left the nest?

Who were they looking down on?

"The worst part is that we have to wear this suffocating night suit to kill a few apprentices. Is it really necessary? A slash or two would do."

One of the black-clad figures, arms crossed, tugged at the thick black fabric he was wearing, complaining.

"Yeah, why don't we switch tasks, Guxart?"

A teasing voice came from above. A black-clad figure sitting comfortably on a tree branch looked down at the leader.

"I'll take on that old wolf, and you deal with the pups... Hehehe... I've wanted to test those old-timers' skills for a long time."

"Give me a chance, Guxart."

"Fredeca! Brett!" the leading black-clad figure barked, "Did you forget what Trei said before we came?"

Hearing the name of their school's leader, Fredeca and Brett, the Cat School witchers, both showed a flicker of fear deep in their eyes.

"Hmph!"

They snorted coldly and ceased their mischief. The other two black-clad figures also shrugged, ending the chatter.

"The night suits are just for show. It doesn't really matter if those Wolf School witchers discover our identities. Once the contract is fulfilled, someone will cover our tracks."

"As for whether the task is easy or not? Killing a wolf pup earns us 200 Orens. Where else can you find such a good deal?"

"Are you telling me you're not happy to do it?"

The leader spoke loudly, trying to reassure them. At the mention of 200 Orens, even Fredeca and Brett's expressions softened.

"Don't worry, Guxart. As long as you and your little lackey can keep that old wolf busy, the pups will be easy prey," Fredeca said.

Guxart nodded, not bothering to argue with them. Cat School witchers were always like this—disorderly and neurotic. They harbored animosity toward everyone except the grandmaster, Treyse, even their fellow "companions" from the same school. Or rather, they probably resented Treyse as well; they were just too scared to show it after being beaten up so many times.

"Feel free to maim them, but leave at least one pup alive for the competition, understood?"

"With just one pup, the Big Eater will still hold the competition?" Brett asked curiously.

"That's none of your concern. Just know that the reward for killing the pups will be split evenly," Guxart said nonchalantly.

As for the deal with the king, the fewer who knew, the better. So far, only Guxart and Grandmaster Treyse knew about the plan to target the Wolf School. Of course, it's likely the other Cat School witchers didn't care either. All they needed were money, women, and hallucinogens to ease the pain of their mutations.

As expected, Brett "tsk"ed and didn't pursue the matter further. Guxart scanned the group of witchers, then looked up at the sky, saying:

"Alright, decide among yourselves who will hold back. Then find a spot to meditate."

"Once the night deepens, the hunt begins!"

-----------------

The moon had already set.

On the dim, pitch-black long street, the only sound was the faint echo of villagers snoring in their sleep.

"Rustle, rustle~"

Barely audible, faint noises came from outside the tightly shut windows. A young witcher in meditation suddenly opened his blue cat eyes.

What was that sound?

In the dead of night... was it some stray cat or dog running around?

Logic told the witcher that this town near Ban Ard was very safe. It wasn't like remote villages where ghouls and drowners would visit from time to time. Even with the king's guards stationed here, thieves were rare. But a strange sense of unease welled up in his heart, making the young witcher unusually irritable.

As his heartbeat quickened, the witcher grabbed his silver sword in the pitch-black darkness without further thought.

At that moment.

"Who goes there!"

A loud shout echoed from the room next door.

"It's Vesemir! So that noise really was suspicious!"

Allen quickly channeled his magic, bending his right hand into a triangle.

Quen Sign!

Golden light flowed around him as the young witcher grabbed a vial of Cat potion from the pouch beside his bed and drank it. The moment the potion took effect.

Buzz~

The wolf medallion on his chest suddenly trembled as Allen drew Elsa.

Bang!

The wooden window of the inn suddenly shattered under a forceful shockwave. A black-clad, masked figure swiftly and deftly followed the shards through the broken window, entering the room. That familiar surge of power and effect... was it the Aard Sign?

Allen's heart skipped a beat. And this level of power wasn't something an ordinary witcher could wield.

"Who are you!" he shouted, lifting his sword and striking fiercely at the intruder.

Since this was an uninvited guest, there was no need for pleasantries. He had to deal with this enemy quickly and rush to Hughes and the others. He hoped Bond and Fred had succeeded in their meditation tonight.

Otherwise, even with Vesemir's warning, such a sudden attack would be very dangerous.

Clang!

The clash of metal rang out, sending countless sparks flying from the point of impact, briefly illuminating a pair of blue and yellow cat eyes glaring at each other in the darkness. Both sets of eyes showed surprise as they stared at one another. It seemed neither had expected this clash to be evenly matched in strength, timing, and technique.

"A witcher, just as I thought! Who are you?"

Allen stepped back, using the recoil to create distance, and immediately cast an Identification spell.

[Name: Brett]

[Attributes: Strength 36, Agility 39, Constitution 16, Perception 34, Mystery 26]

His strength, agility, and perception were all higher than Allen's!

But with such low constitution after the Trial of the Grasses!

No doubt about it—this witcher was definitely one of the frail Cat School. Only those with incomplete mutation formulas would end up with such poor constitution after the trial. And with the Wolf School vs. Cat School apprentice combat tournament just around the corner, the motive was clear. This was a premeditated attack, and they were the targets!

-----------------

On the other side...

Contrary to Allen's imagination, after Vesemir's roar alerted the young witcher, there was no fierce battle in the witcher master's room. They were just silently facing each other.

"What's the meaning of this, Cat School? Do you want to provoke an all-out war between the two schools?"

Allen could see what Vesemir naturally noticed too. The glaring cat eyes and the thick, nauseating stench of death emanating from their bodies. Even with his eyes closed, Vesemir could tell that the two before him were from the disgrace of the witchers...

The Cat School, known for producing bandits, assassins, and cowards, who only hunted their own kind and shamelessly looted the pockets of the dead. The two witchers from the Cat School weren't surprised when their identities were revealed.

They stood like two black statues, swords in hand, by the window, merely staring at Vesemir without uttering a word.

Guxart certainly wanted to eliminate the man before him. However, unlike the reckless young ones from the Cat School, driven mad by strong hallucinogens, he knew that anyone who could lead apprentices to a tournament hosted by the King of Kaedwen must be a witcher master recognized by many witcher schools.

In fact, they hadn't even gotten close to the inn before the lamps in the rooms of the Wolf School witchers lit up. As they reached the inn's door, they heard a loud shout coming from this room. So, at least in terms of perception, he was no match for this Wolf School witcher. And perception and agility were the pride of a Cat School witcher.

Besides, their mission target was those Wolf School apprentices. All they needed to do was hold off this Wolf School master for a while.

Clang!

Cries of surprise mingled with the sound of clashing blades came from outside the window.

After a brief moment of thought, Vesemir's eyes flared with anger. He finally understood why these two were blocking his way.

"You scum of the Cat School, to think you'd stoop to such filthy tricks just for a mere victory in an apprentice tournament."

"Don't you feel ashamed?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Vesemir gripped the steel sword in his hand tightly, stamped the ground, and rushed towards the two black-clad figures, stirring up a gust of wind.

-----------------

"Heh heh heh~"

"Looks like Guxart's luck is bad, picked the wrong spot. Didn't expect the old wolf to be in my area!"

A fiery battle lust flared in Brett's eyes. With a deft flick of his wrist, he twirled his longsword and suddenly charged forward again.

Guxart?

Old wolf?

This witcher must have mistaken me for Vesemir!

Of course, even if the Cat School often took contracts to assassinate humans, capable of adapting to darkness and engaging in fierce combat using their witcher senses, it didn't mean they could completely discern his face in such conditions.

Allen's height had also reached about 1.7 meters due to the various essences he had taken in the past few months, making him no longer look like an average 14-year-old.

Allen's thoughts raced.

He swiftly swung Elsa to the right, parrying the incoming longsword to the side.

He instinctively wanted to spin, to gather rotational force for a killing blow, just like when he hunted monsters. But as soon as he made a slight misstep, the Cat School witcher's blade gleamed with a chilling light, rapidly enlarging before his eyes.

Damn it!

I forgot that, in the eyes of a Cat School witcher, the Wolf School's double-handed sword technique—the spin—was a massive flaw. But Allen wasn't facing danger for the first time.

He quickly raised his right elbow to shield himself.

Boom!

With a loud bang, the blade struck Allen's right elbow, and golden light flashed. The Quen shield shattered instantly. The sudden shockwave, mixed with fragments of pale golden magic, threw the Cat School witcher off balance, making him stagger backward.

Allen immediately cast another Quen shield on himself and prepared to press the attack, stepping forward with alternating feet. But to his surprise, the Cat School witcher suddenly performed a circus-like move, following the imbalance to bend backward, touching the ground lightly with both hands before flipping back smoothly.

After a graceful backflip, he landed lightly on the windowsill, instantly widening the gap between them. More impressive was how his feet, landing on the narrow windowsill, made not a sound, nor did his body waver.

"Due to its founder being a half-elf, the Cat School's combat style is inherited from the elves—agile and swift with the sword."

"To cultivate such agility and balance, Cat School witchers begin practicing tightrope walking with their eyes closed from their apprentice days…"

Watching Brett's fluid, almost pleasingly aesthetic movements, Vesemir's introduction to the Cat School's style suddenly surfaced in Allen's mind.

"Hahaha~"

A slightly unhinged laugh broke Allen's train of thought.

The Cat School witcher, Brett, glared with his muddy yellow cat eyes, twirling his longsword nonchalantly, his tone filled with excitement: "No wonder you're from the Wolf School. The orderly traditions of the formal guild are indeed different from us, the unacknowledged strays of the Cat School."

"We can only use Quen, Aard, and Igni, but you can already alter the nature of signs."

"Heh heh heh… it's enough to make one envious!"

"But…"

Before he finished, Brett allowed gravity to take over, leaning forward as his knees bent, suddenly stomping on the narrow windowsill.

Crack!

The already broken and splintered wooden window was forcefully kicked out, sending even the frame flying.

"But your sword is neither fast enough nor accurate enough!"

With a roar, the black-clad figure, gripping a gleaming longsword, charged forward like a black whirlwind.

Whoosh!

Allen exhaled deeply. Watching the witcher rush towards him, magnified and sharpened in his vision thanks to the Cat potion, he hesitated no longer.

Monster Hunt!

He knew that using this skill would likely determine life and death. But he had no other choice. At the beginning of the battle, even before the fight, he had imagined scenarios of facing off against the Cat School in the tournament.

He had hesitated, considering whether to incorporate the disgraced Cat School witchers. After all, the Wolf and Cat Schools were both witchers.

In the original story, after the Wolf School's demise, the other schools, including the Cat School, faced the same fate. All witcher schools should be natural allies. At their core, the Cat School shared a common enemy with them and could be part of their ranks. But now, he had changed his mind.

A swordsman's sword is an extension of his thoughts.

The glaring cold light ahead was aimed at all of Allen's vital points.

"This Cat School witcher wants to kill me!"

The Cat School witcher Brett's sword revealed his thoughts. And as a fellow witcher, Allen received the message, so…

Clang!

The sound of clashing metal rang out.

[Monster Hunt] progress: 3%...

....…

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

For advance chapters: p@treon.com/Uchiha_Itachi007 (replace @ with a)

158. The Death of the Cat.

159. How Do You Know My Name is Fredeca?

160. A New Beginning.

161. The Rage of Being Fooled.

162. A Bountiful Harvest.