Chapter 136: Traces of the Old Days
Wolf Granny lay upon the bed within the Little House, concealing her claws, ears, and tail. She devoured Little Red Riding Hood in a single gulp, and then…
The Hunter did not arrive.
Instead, a Cook appeared.
Yu Sheng felt something stir violently in the air—an invisible Wolf Granny let out a piercing howl. Where his small blade passed, blood spurted from nothingness. Ripped fur, fat, and flesh unraveled and peeled open, revealing themselves in midair along the trajectory of the blade. A sudden gust of pressure and menace surged from the side, the front paw and head of a Wolf lifting in defiance—
But it was not the Evil Wolf from Little Red Riding Hood’s deepest nightmares, the one larger than a house.
This was merely the imagined Big Bad Wolf of a six-year-old girl—strong, yes, but not stronger than Yu Sheng; swift, but not swifter than an adult. Fierce—but Yu Sheng had butchered far uglier meat.
With a sudden motion, Yu Sheng grabbed the invisible Wolf’s skull, pinned its neck under his arm, and forced it down upon the small bed. The blade in his other hand continued to flay its hide. Blood spread in an ever-growing pool as the howls turned shriller. Slowly, the creature’s form became visible—much larger than a normal Wolf, large enough to swallow a child. Its body was long and thin, clad in a ridiculous apron and frilly cap, its face grotesque and twisted, its belly grotesquely bloated.
Now, it was dying. The fierce glint in its eyes was dimming, its throat rasping with wet, choking gasps. Its limbs twitched in final spasms.
“Easy now, it’s almost over…” Yu Sheng whispered, leaning in close. His voice was gentle, almost joyous, as he gazed into the Evil Wolf’s eyes. “I have to slice carefully—wouldn’t want to hurt the child. But you need to stop squirming; tense muscles make you less… useful. There, it’s done.”
The belly of the Big Bad Wolf had been completely opened. With the second sweep of the blade, he sliced through a strange membrane. From within the beast spilled a tiny girl, rolling out onto the bed.
Her eyes were shut tight. Not a drop of blood stained her skin, as though she were simply asleep, trapped in an unending dream.
Little Red Riding Hood rushed forward, catching the girl before she could hit the floor. Her eyes widened instinctively as she stared at the flayed and twitching Big Bad Wolf sprawled across the bed, and then at Yu Sheng, now wiping blood off his knife onto the Wolf’s mangy pelt.
“You… how did you see it? Why couldn’t I before?”
“Hard to explain,” Yu Sheng replied, glancing back at her. “I have a few extra ‘perspectives’ now—things only known to the Wolf Pack of the Forest. As for why you couldn’t see her… perhaps because she wasn’t your Wolf Granny.”
Little Red Riding Hood froze, her expression turning contemplative.
Just as she opened her mouth to speak again, a chorus of howls echoed from beyond the Little House, shattering her thoughts.
Seven or eight Shadow Wolves emerged around her, answering the challenge of the howls outside with hoarse, menacing cries of their own. They formed a protective circle around their “mistress.”
“The Wolf Pack’s been roused. Doesn’t sound like they’re happy,” Yu Sheng muttered, lifting his head. He eyed Little Red Riding Hood from the corner of his gaze, noticing how tense she’d become. “You’d better leave with her now. We’ve cut her free from the Wolf Granny. As long as she returns to the real world, she’ll wake.”
“But it’s not time yet!” Little Red Riding Hood exclaimed, anxious. “You have to stay in the Black Forest for a set period to leave!”
Yu Sheng frowned and called out in his mind, “Irene, drag them out. Use your specialty.”
“Got it,” Irene replied immediately. “What about you? You’re not leaving?”
“I’ll observe a bit longer. See if anything changes. Don’t worry about me.”
“Fine… but if you’re going to die, give me a heads-up.”
“Can’t you say something nicer for once?”
Little Red Riding Hood, unaware of Yu Sheng’s mental conversation, felt a sudden interference surge through her bond with the Black Forest—an external force was ripping her away. Panic flashing across her face, she gasped, “What are you do—”
“Irene will get you out,” Yu Sheng nodded. “Might be a rough ride, though—try not to vomit on me afterward.”
“Huh?” she blinked.
And then she and the girl—Xiao Xiao—vanished from the Little House.
The Shadow Wolves guarding them faded with them.
But the howls outside the Little House didn’t stop. If anything, they intensified—closer, denser, laced with unmistakable hostility.
“So, they were after me,” Yu Sheng muttered, unsurprised. He knew he was the “storybreaker” in this tale, and by the rules of the Fairy Tale Organization, those who ruin stories were never welcome.
Especially if they were adults. Fairy Tale hated adults most of all.
But after several seconds of constant vigilance, Yu Sheng noticed something strange. Though the howls of the Wolf Pack had drawn much closer outside the Little House, they ultimately halted at a certain invisible boundary. The unseen wolves prowled there, restlessly circling—but for reasons unknown, they never launched an attack on this Little House.
Yu Sheng furrowed his brow slightly, once again surveying the house. It was draped in Red Cloaks, its hearth and candles long extinguished, as if they had gone cold many years ago.
He still remembered what the Squirrel had once said, remembered the last time he had taken refuge in a Little House—how, after the flames and candlelight were gone, the Little House would be devoured by the Forest. Just like those ever-shifting paths, swallowed up at any moment. These “shelters” seemed to be nothing more than phantasms, illusions barely sustained by the flicker of firelight.
So what was the story with this particular Little House?
Was it truly as Little Red Riding Hood had claimed—”the place where the story ends”? Was that why it remained, never devoured, yet eternally lost within the deepest heart of the Forest—a burial ground for every Little Red Riding Hood that had ever been?
The howls of the wolves outside grated on the nerves, but Yu Sheng forced himself to ignore the distraction. Now that he had managed to save the girl, a measure of peace had returned to his heart. He was ready to investigate this place thoroughly.
He searched every corner of the Little House meticulously, even lifting each Red Cloak to check for anything hidden beneath.
He found a stick and used it to stir the cold hearth, sifting carefully through the ashes.
Finally, he shoved the corpse of the Big Bad Wolf off the bed and overturned it entirely.
Yu Sheng narrowed his eyes.
Upon lifting the small bed, he discovered something.
The wooden floor beneath it was covered in dense, winding engravings—gouged-in patterns like scratches.
Yu Sheng lowered himself, eyes nearly pressed to the floor as he examined the marks.
Though the Little House was dimly lit, his eyes glimmered with a wolfish gleam. He saw that the marks were crooked and distorted writing—so twisted and chaotic it was almost indecipherable.
He stared for a long time, managing to extract only scattered fragments of broken, chaotic meaning—
“… it’s alive … dreaming … hidden in all … shared …”
Yu Sheng’s brow tightened. The fragmented writing offered little coherence. He didn’t bother concocting meaningless speculation. Instead, he stretched out a finger, tracing the grooves of the carvings, trying to understand how the words had been scratched.
They seemed to have been clawed out slowly, bit by bit—with extremely sharp fingernails.
A human hand, surely—but those nails must have been hard, deadly sharp. Like a Wolf’s.
He kept tracing further. The more recent carvings became finer, shallower.
“Tired … cold … hungry …
“Can’t remember … how long …
“Wolves outside.
“I am…”
The final words were lost in a mess of near-invisible grooves. It seemed whoever had written them had run out of strength after scrawling “I am”… and then moved no more.
Yu Sheng’s brow knit tightly. Slowly, he stood upright.
He believed this must have been left behind by one of the Little Red Riding Hoods—he had few other plausible guesses.
But which one? Why had she left this? Why had she remained here?
If this really was the place where all Little Red Riding Hoods “ended”, then how had the one who left these messages kept her mind intact long enough to write them down? What had she discovered?
Yu Sheng’s gaze returned to the beginning of the message.
“… it’s alive …”
This must be referring to some “thing”—but what exactly? What is alive? What is dreaming?
He raised his head.
The Big Bad Wolf’s corpse had stopped twitching entirely. Its belly was drained of blood. Soon, it would make for good meat.
And not far away, beyond the Little House window, a faint layer of starlight had crept in unnoticed.
The howling of the Wolf Pack had vanished. Outside, a deathly silence had fallen.