Chapter 59

Is a Book Thief Really a Thief?

And just like that, I stayed with the Snow Wolf Tribe—as a dog.

Xie Zhuo began going out again, but only to find food and water for me.

I would try my best to delay his return, letting him stay outside the tent a little longer, and then a little longer still. If no one in the Snow Wolf Tribe would keep him company, then I would. Even though I was missing a leg and only had three, it didn’t affect my ability to move around.

As time went on, Xie Zhuo misunderstood—he thought I liked playing outside.

So when he fed me each day, he would, intentionally or not, extend our time outdoors. Still, he made sure to avoid places where other tribe members gathered.

I thought I was making him happy. He probably thought he was indulging me.

But none of that really mattered. What mattered was that I could see more and more of those expressions of joy from the past returning to his face.

It felt like he was beginning to hope for the future again.

He even started making plans—thanks to his gradually awakening mind…

After the tribe’s daily soul power offering ritual, Xie Zhuo would secretly siphon a little bit of the power to me, just enough to keep me energized and full of life.

Because of that little bit of soul power, not only did I no longer feel hungry, but it also began to accumulate in my body.

I even started thinking—if this kept up, maybe one day I could become a local dog demon! That way, I could stay with Xie Zhuo forever!

He never explained why he did this. I couldn’t ask. So I didn’t know if he was deliberately trying to help me evolve, or if he just didn’t want me to go hungry.

Whatever his motive, I kept pretending to be hungry every day, dragging him out for walks… or perhaps he thought he was the one walking me.

Beyond sharing soul power, Xie Zhuo also started doing something else differently.

When he took me outside, he would sometimes pass through areas where other tribe members lived. Some Snow Wolf Tribe adults taught their children out front—some taught reading, others taught daily skills, and some even taught basic cultivation. After all, unlike Xie Zhuo, none of the other children were gifted soul power offerings.

Xie Zhuo used to avoid disturbing these people, and they ignored him in return.

But now, he would stop and watch from behind.

One day, he’d watch someone teach literacy. The next, he’d watch archery.

The adults reacted in different ways. Some pretended not to notice him and kept teaching. Others would take their children somewhere else.

Interestingly, Xie Zhuo responded to them differently too.

Those who didn’t avoid him? He’d often ignore them. But those who did avoid him? He’d quietly follow them for a bit, watching a little longer.

Over time, I noticed something—he tended to follow the good teachers. The ones he ignored, despite being allowed to watch, were the bad ones.

To my amazement, I realized that even at his young age, Xie Zhuo had a bit of a cunning streak!

And I realized just how smart he was. At the same time, I felt a pang of pity—if only he had parents who were willing to teach him properly…

So, I started… becoming a thief…

That night, I snuck into a tribe member’s tent and found a book that Xie Zhuo had been eager to read during the day—but the tent’s owner had closed the book and taken it away.

Without making a sound, I stole the book.

I had officially become a full-blown book-stealing dog!

I darted back to Xie Zhuo’s tent and leapt into his bedding, pawing at him.

“Xie Zhuo, you have soul power, you don’t need as much sleep! Wake up and read! I can teach you!”

“Woof…” I didn’t want to wake anyone else, so I only made a soft breathy sound.

“Little Wolf, time to sleep…”

Xie Zhuo was half-asleep and unwilling to get up. I couldn’t bark loudly or keep pawing at him too much, so I leaned in and licked his cheek until he finally woke up.

Without giving him a chance to protest, I shoved the book into his face.

Xie Zhuo blinked at me, confused.

What are you looking at me for?

Read the book!

“Woof!”

I picked the book up and shoved it into his arms.

Xie Zhuo finally looked down and, upon seeing the book, his face froze for a moment before turning into a helpless smile.

“Where did you steal this from?”

How could you call it stealing when it comes to reading? Can a book thief really be considered a thief?

I nudged the book with my nose, urging him to read it properly.

He clearly wanted to flip it open, but he held himself back. “We need to return it.”

He said, “When we passed a tent earlier, I saw Mumu’s mom hitting him, scolding him for taking something without permission. Little Wolf, this isn’t okay.”

“Woof…” We’ll return it before dawn. Just read it first.

Xie Zhuo threw off the blanket and got out of bed, looking like he was about to return the book.

“Woof!” I barked a little louder, thinking: After everything they’ve done to you, you’re still worried about this?!

Feeling frustrated on his behalf, I blocked his path.

Xie Zhuo paused and looked me in the eye. Moonlight streamed in through the slit in the tent flap. He stared at me in silence, then crouched down and patted my head gently—his palm warm, just like his heart.

“I’ll find my own way to learn.”

He returned the book without waking a soul.

His soul power had already made him stronger than many adult members of the tribe—and he was only just entering his growth phase.

He came back, gently held me in his arms, and went back to sleep like nothing had happened.

As I looked at his sleeping face, a common saying came to mind: Watch a child at three to know their future at seven.

Turns out, there’s some truth to that.

Xie Zhuo had always been like this—quiet, patient, hiding his gentleness and strength deep within his soul.

After that, I stopped being a book thief.

I respected the life Xie Zhuo wanted to live. He could’ve snuck books at night, but he didn’t. Instead, during the day—despite scornful glances or silent approval—he learned everything he needed to grow.

He learned to read and practiced writing in the dirt.

He learned combat techniques and practiced them alone.

He even made me a prosthetic leg—whittling wood with a dagger he’d forged himself, crafting joints, sewing on cotton and leather, and fitting it to my crippled limb.

As time passed, he learned many, many things and slowly grew into a true young man—his appearance nearly identical to the person I remembered.

And I… had long since gone from a little puppy to—

A big dog…

Yes, Xie Zhuo still gave me a bit of soul power every day, but this little pup had been born with flaws, and its body was just too weak.

Maybe its lifespan was supposed to end the moment its mother abandoned it.

But Xie Zhuo and I, through the path of cultivation, had forcibly extended its life.

Even now, keeping it healthy like this was nothing short of defying fate.

It seems there’s little hope of me becoming a long-lived dog demon. All I can think about is, in two or three years when this dog body finally fades away, what form I’ll take when I see Xie Zhuo again—or how I’ll comfort him when he grieves the loss of his puppy…

Just as I began to worry about the future, changes started stirring within the Snow Wolf Clan.

Xie Zhuo’s growth phase had lasted seven years. As he matured, the Evil God demanded more and more soul power offerings from the clan. Many people even fell ill from the depletion of their own soul power.

Discontent toward Xie Zhuo and the Evil God was growing within the Snow Wolf Clan, yet still, no one dared to be the first to challenge the god’s authority.

For Xie Ling, things only worsened. She was forced to leave the Snow Wolf Clan to seek soul power in more distant places. Sometimes, she wouldn’t return for a day or two.

Because of this, Zhu Lian had to learn to take care of himself.

Zhu Lian began to venture out of the tent occasionally. When Xie Ling was around, she would teach him archery outside the tent, so he could hunt small animals beyond the snowy forest.

When she wasn’t around, Zhu Lian would cook meals for himself outside the tent. He had little soul power and needed to eat every day.

All these years, the only thing Xie Zhuo never learned from Xie Ling was her archery.

It wasn’t because he never encountered it—he deliberately avoided it. Even when he occasionally crossed paths with Zhu Lian in the forest, he purposely avoided him.

To outsiders, it seemed like Xie Zhuo felt nothing for the mother and son.

But I knew the truth: he still wanted to get close to Xie Ling. He still envied Zhu Lian.

Because… I’d seen him stand off in the distance from time to time, his gaze fixed on Xie Ling’s tent.

Sometimes he could see her. Sometimes not—only Zhu Lian would be there.

Compared to Xie Zhuo, Zhu Lian was shorter and thinner, with a pale face. If they were brothers, he looked more like one who’d been bullied all his life.

When Xie Ling wasn’t around, the Snow Wolf Clan members would check on Zhu Lian, give him food, or offer him comforting words.

Those were things Xie Zhuo had never received.

In those moments, I could see the disappointment in Xie Zhuo’s eyes.

I used to crack jokes to interrupt him, but over time, I began to respect his moments of sorrow more.

I knew these things were unavoidable. If the puppy body disappears and I can’t find another form in time, Xie Zhuo will have to face it all on his own.

He has to learn to deal with his emotions.

Clearly, he’s doing well.

He feels envy, he feels hurt—but he quickly turns away and walks the path he must take. Or he’ll bend down and give my head a pat.

I can’t guarantee I’ll always be able to comfort him, but I can guarantee this: when he turns his gaze my way, I’ll always be looking at him. Always watching.

He’s always been in my eyes.

Then I’d see the look in Xie Zhuo’s obsidian eyes soften from confusion to gentleness.

“Little Wolf,” Xie Zhuo said, stroking my head.

My tail wagged instinctively behind me.

“Let’s take a walk on the Ice Lake,” he said.

“Woof.” I responded calmly.

Just like that—with no need for more words—it was as if his turbulent heart was soothed.

We walked along the Ice Lake. Xie Zhuo’s emotions had already settled.

As I looked at him, I often wondered—if I were Xie Zhuo, what would I have become?

I’d probably… hate this world to the core.

But strangely, Xie Zhuo had chosen a different path.

He received too little affection, so even the tiniest bit I gave him—just a dog’s affection—was enough for him. He tucked that warmth deep into his heart and forged a soul both tough and tender.

And yet, I’d nearly destroyed that heart once…

“Little Wolf,” Xie Zhuo called me.

I looked up at him. He seemed to have just regulated his breathing, and a wisp of soul power had gathered in his palm.

It was like this every day—he’d gather soul power on his own and bring it to me.

I looked up, ready to quietly accept it.

Just then, from a distance, the sharp whistle of an arrow splitting the air rang out. I turned my head and saw the arrow coming straight at me. One of Xie Zhuo’s hands was still offering me soul power, but with the other, he caught the arrow mid-air.

The tip had already touched my dog nose—I was so scared I didn’t even breathe.

I almost left this body today…

Before I could react, another arrow shot through the air. This one carried an even deadlier intent. In a flash, Xie Zhuo flicked the first arrow’s tail to deflect the second. The arrow tip veered off course, but still hit something with a solid thunk.

I turned and saw the arrow had struck the prosthetic leg Xie Zhuo made for me and sent it skidding across the Ice Lake.

If that arrow had hit me just now, the thing sliding across the ice might’ve been my whole dog body…

I stared dumbfounded in the direction the arrows had come from.

Xie Zhuo also withdrew the soul power from his palm, his expression turning cold as he looked that way.

His look reminded me of the Xie Zhuo from Undying City…

From the distance came Zhu Lian’s voice, laced with deep resentment: “The entire Snow Wolf Clan offers their soul power to you, so many people have weakened because of it, and yet you give soul power to a dog!?”

“I give my own soul power,” Xie Zhuo replied.

But Zhu Lian didn’t listen. Another arrow was nocked. Xie Zhuo struck it from the air with the arrow in his hand. The flying arrow veered off and lodged into an ice tree.

Zhu Lian had no more arrows, but he raised his hand anyway and, using the soul power within him, formed a bolt of light and shot it at me.

Neither Xie Zhuo nor I expected Zhu Lian to be able to form a soul-arrow from pure energy!

Xie Zhuo deflected the soul-arrow, scattering it—but a wisp of soul power sprang up from the ground after being dispersed.

I didn’t react in time—until the light pierced through my already crippled leg…