With a swift roll， A-Lai dispersed the immense force of the werewolf's attack， but the maneuver left his back drenched in blood. Dizzy and battered， he quickly took stock of his injuries. Dizzy Dan， nearby， bore a deep， ghastly scratch across his face， the werewolf’s claws leaving a signature amid the bloodstains.
The massive wolf at the gate missed its strike and slowly retreated into the shadows， its imposing figure fading into the night. Yet， its presence lingered， an ominous threat that kept everyone on edge.
A-Lai crouched on the ground， his body pressed against the remnants of his spear. Pain radiated through his bones， but he strained to keep his eyes on the werewolf， watching its every move. This creature was not just powerful; it possessed a cunning intelligence， making it a formidable adversary. A chilling thought crossed A-Lai’s mind: Today， he might meet his end here.
Dan spat out a mouthful of blood as he crawled toward A-Lai， muttering angrily under his breath. His injuries were severe， evident in his labored movements. Just when a brief respite seemed possible， the werewolf reappeared， leaping from the darkness above to launch another ferocious attack.
In the depths of his heart， Dan cursed the werewolf’s cunning.“This time， it's certain death! And it’s led to endangering a child’s life as well.” The cold gleam of the werewolf’s claws descended， as menacing as the scythe of the Grim Reaper， ready to claim their lives.
Suddenly， the door burst open， and a group of villagers， led by the principal， charged out. Fear etched on their faces， they rushed into the battlefield with a mix of bravery and desperation.
“Ah， ah!” Their shouts echoed fiercely， rivaling the werewolf’s own roars.
Despite the villagers’ bold entrance， the werewolf’s disdain remained. It did not slow its attack but instead pressed forward， its eyes reflecting scorn. Time seemed to stretch as the villagers’ expressions shifted to pain， helplessness， and anxiety.
Hope flickered and died quickly in Dan’s heart. Why didn’t this beast retreat? Ordinary creatures would flee， yet the werewolf showed no such fear. It seemed to see through their futile attempts at intimidation， like a gambler revealing all their cards.
As Dan prepared to accept his fate， a spear suddenly shot forward from an unexpected angle， aiming directly at the werewolf’s throat. The weapon appeared without warning， like a lightning strike in the dark， catching everyone’s attention. It was A-Lai's renowned technique—the“Returning Spear.”
This counterattack was designed to catch opponents off guard at moments of overconfidence. In that instant， Dan’s heart seemed to stop. This was the crucial moment where victory or defeat would be decided.
The werewolf hesitated， its eyes shimmering with a mix of calculation and doubt. Weighing its options， it recognized the deadly precision of A-Lai's spear poised to pierce its throat. Yet， it also knew that continuing its attack might still allow its claws to reach A-Lai and Dan.
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The werewolf’s gaze hardened， its decision made. With lightning speed， it lashed out， its massive paw descending on A-Lai's spear. The force of the blow was tremendous， and A-Lai， using the impact to his advantage， spun away and landed firmly on his feet.
“Clang，” the iron spear hit the ground， twisted， bent， and deformed from the impact. A-Lai felt a wave of weakness wash over him. Though he had blocked the werewolf's strike， he couldn’t shake off a sense of melancholy. If only his Kung Fu master had been here， this battle might have been won. In his hands， the werewolf remained unscathed.
The werewolf paused， its attack momentarily halted. It stood tall， its form towering over A-Lai， the principal， and the villagers， who now protected A-Lai and Dan but hesitated to make a move. The beast’s eyes glinted with arrogance， a mocking smile spreading across its face.
“Any more tricks? If you can’t surprise me， the game is over!” it growled， its voice dripping with contempt as it taunted them.
The werewolf advanced， the air thickening under its oppressive presence. It moved like a cat toying with a mouse， and wild wolves in the distance howled fervently. Desperation filled the villagers’ eyes， but they held their ground.
A-Lai， heart pounding， forced himself to step forward. He was not a boy who sought attention， but today he had no choice. His teacher， his neighbors， his classmates—they all depended on him. Despite the pain of leaving his trusted spear on the ground， A-Lai prepared himself for what lay ahead.
He assumed a classic Kung Fu defensive stance， his muscles tensed and ready. His left arm extended forward to guard， while his right fist coiled tightly near his head， poised for a swift， lethal strike.
The werewolf loomed over him， its cruel amusement evident. Its hulking frame， fur bristling in the moonlight， cast a dark shadow. The werewolf’s eyes gleamed with wicked joy， and it growled， a scary， toothy smile spreading across its face， like a cat savoring the moment before pouncing on a defenseless mouse.
A-Lai's breath came in sharp， controlled bursts. He could sense the werewolf’s confidence， its predatory arrogance. The beast reveled in the anticipation， savoring the fear emanating from its prey. But A-Lai steeled himself， refusing to retreat even a single step. A hero is often just an ordinary person who refuses to back down.
The werewolf lunged suddenly， its massive claw slicing through the air with terrifying speed. A-Lai twisted out of the way， feeling the rush of air as the claw narrowly missed him.
In an astonishing move， A-Lai rolled forward， evading the swipe with agility that surprised even the werewolf. As he sprang to his feet， his right hand morphed into a spear-like weapon， his middle finger’s mid-joint jutting out like a sharp spearhead.
Swift and calculated， A-Lai lunged at the werewolf， targeting the vulnerable inner parts of its knees with precision. His hand struck like a spear， each blow driving his rigid middle finger into the soft tissue behind the werewolf’s kneecaps. The impact was brutal， as if the werewolf had been hit by a pair of thrusting spears.
The werewolf let out a guttural， rumbling growl， its voice a mix of surprise and pain. Its eyes widened in shock， the searing pain radiating through its legs. It staggered， its massive frame unsteady， and it limped backward， the blows striking deep into its sensitive knees.
A-Lai， battered but resolute， watched the werewolf retreat. His heart raced， but he felt a glimmer of hope. He had managed to turn the tide once more， and the fight， though far from over， was not yet lost.