Chapter 16: The First Trial Begins – Misty Hunt, Illusions, and Hidden Talents
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The Gray Tower bell rang three times.
I stood at the high platform, overseeing the clearing below where twenty-eight wolfblood teenagers—boys and girls—were lined up, eyes gleaming with hope and ambition.
They thought this was a glorious selection for the future Wolf King.
What they didn’t know?
It was a behavioral experiment in disguise—crafted by none other than my dear mother.
“Remember,” I whispered to my team, “the goal isn’t to find a winner—it’s to make them show their teeth.”
Raccoon rubbed his hands together. “Should I throw in a smoke bomb?”
Amy had already fixed her fake elf ears in place. “I’ll pose as a ‘mysterious forest guide’ and lead them into… let’s say… alternate paths.”
Coren stayed low, embedded among the candidates, blending in as a quiet nobody.
He was the bait.
Mother’s eyes would be watching him.
But the real moves? They were hiding behind other masks.
The Misty Hunting Grounds was a naturally fog-covered forest—a mix of twisted trees, sleeping pollen, and mirage-inducing fumes. One moment you thought you were following a trail. The next, you were chasing a memory.
I hated this place.
It reminded me too much of my past—freedom that was only a painted illusion, and chains you couldn’t see until they choked you.
Trial rules: each of the seven teams had to capture three different species of “rare prey” and bring them to me for judgment.
What they didn’t know?
Raccoon and I had swapped some of the real prey.
Instead of redtail hares and blackfeather hawks, they’d be chasing:
A rabbit that speaks fluent sarcasm.
A hawk with an acting problem.
And a mountain goat that only danced to pop songs and gossiped like an auntie.
“You sure they won’t figure it out?” Firewood asked, adjusting his goat mask.
I smirked. “I want her to figure it out. Let her know that raising kings isn’t about picking the fastest wolf in a race.”
“If you can’t tell a trap from a joke, you’re no ruler. You’re a pawn.”
Two hours in—and the first mental breakdown hit.
Leo, the “talented prodigy” with fire-enhanced legs, had chased the talking rabbit for four kilometers.
The rabbit cursed him in Mandarin and Cantonese.
Leo ended up on the ground, rocking himself. “Rabbits aren’t supposed to insult my mother…”
Another candidate, Joleen, proud daughter of a noble house, went after the mountain goat—and ended up dancing a full set of plaza choreography, followed by an unsolicited hour-long chat about arthritis and soap brands.
The third candidate caught my eye.
A tall, skinny boy named Tai.
He hadn’t caught a thing.
But he’d started helping other teams avoid traps, showing them how to work together. By dusk, his team was the only one to successfully submit three “prey”—plus a scroll titled: “Suggestions for Future Trial Design.”
Raccoon narrowed his eyes. “Is he serious?”
I watched Tai sitting alone, away from his team.
“He’s not serious,” I said.
“He’s pretending to be.”
Coren stood beside me. “He’s not on the main candidate list. But… there’s always a backup plan.”
I chuckled. “She’s scared all three of her golden boys might fail, huh?”
That night, when the trial grounds closed, I sent the wolf pup with a hot meal to Tai’s cabin.
He opened the door.
I was already sitting on his bed, chewing his braised meat.
“You—how did you get in here?”
“I have a key,” I said around a mouthful. “Trial Master privilege.”
He sighed. “You here to grade me?”
“Nope.”
I swallowed and pointed at him. “I’m here to find out whose piece you are.”
He froze.
“You know, don’t you?”
I sighed and set down the box.
“Drop the act, Tai. You think I wouldn’t recognize a ‘research specimen’ from the West Archive?”
“You changed your name, your face, maybe even your scent—but not that posture.”
He looked away.
“I don’t want to be Wolf King.”
“But I have to win this trial.”
“I have a sister. She’s still in the Main District.”
“If I lose… I can’t protect her.”
I studied him carefully.
That’s why he took the long route.
Why he led others instead of winning alone.
This wasn’t a wolf without ambition—he just wasn’t hunting for himself.
I stood.
“Alright. Let’s make a deal.”
“You keep playing the good dog.”
“I keep sabotaging the show.”
“But if you lay a finger on any of my kids from the Gray Tower—”
“I’ll throw you into the hallucination field myself.”
He nodded. “Deal.”
We shook on it.
Then I snatched up the rest of his braised meat.
“Where’d you buy this?”
He watched me raid his dinner and sighed.
“Are all Gray Tower people this… uncivilized?”
I licked sauce from my thumb and winked.
“We don’t live by rules.”
“We live by surviving first…”
“And making noise later.”
