Chapter 58: Thunderfist

After that punch, Catherine’s heart sank.

It sank deeply.

That was a blow delivered with all her strength, striking the Phantom Wolf squarely at an undefended opening—yet it barely caused any damage! Though the mark of her fist stood out clearly on the creature’s face, only a trace of blood seeped from the wound; it was obviously nothing but a superficial injury! Was the opponent’s strength truly so far beyond her own?

How could that be possible?

She recalled that when she was still a high-level mage, even a minor third-tier spell could seriously injure a third-tier magical beast like the Shadow Wolf. Now, her fists and feet possessed power no less than such spells. The Phantom Wolf, though an evolved form of the Shadow Wolf, was only one rank higher—how could its defenses have improved so drastically?

These thoughts raced through her mind, but her hands didn’t falter. Taking advantage of the Phantom Wolf’s lingering rigidity, she drew power into her left fist and drove it hard into the creature’s vulnerable abdomen.

Thud! Once more, her blow landed with a dull thump, as if hitting a sandbag. Her fist sank into its belly, and the same strange resistance returned—as though she couldn’t quite strike a solid form, half of her strength seemed to dissipate uselessly. It wasn’t as frustrating as completely missing, but the sensation still left her terribly vexed.

What in the world was going on? The feeling was infuriating!

A surge of nameless anger welled up within Catherine. Did she really have to bow to this absurdity? Gathering her will, she drew back her right fist and launched it at the Phantom Wolf’s throat, its prominent larynx—a spot that surely couldn’t be so well defended!

Crack! This time, her attack was blocked. The Phantom Wolf raised its thick forelimb and caught her fist squarely in its palm, the impact ringing out clearly. In that moment, the beast felt a surge of triumph: its opponent was fast and nimble, yes, but her blows were simply too weak! What was there to fear now? Even if it meant trading wound for wound, as long as it could land a strike on her legs and slow her movement, she’d be at its mercy. With her powerless fist now caught, it squeezed hard and yanked back, intent on pulling her in and raking her with its claws. Yet, despite using all its might, Catherine didn’t budge an inch!

Why couldn’t it move her? The same question flashed simultaneously through both their minds. When her fist was first caught, Catherine had braced herself for the worst, left hand raised in defense, preparing for pain—but to her surprise, the force on her hand was negligible! She tried pulling her fist back, and the Phantom Wolf felt a surge of overwhelming strength at its paw, utterly irresistible—it staggered forward several steps, tripped by Catherine’s foot, and sprawled face-first to the ground!

Witnessing this, a new suspicion formed in Catherine’s mind: could it be that her opponent simply had high defense, but little actual strength?

Seizing the opportunity as the Phantom Wolf tumbled, she raised her leg and kicked it hard in the ribs, sending it flying several meters sideways. The sensation in her foot was much the same as when punching, but she paid it no mind, quickly closing the distance. She leapt forward, landing astride the beast’s back, pinning it to the ground with all four limbs, completely immobilizing it!

The Phantom Wolf thrashed wildly, but to Catherine, its struggles felt weak and ineffectual. She was sure it was using its full strength, but that strength was nowhere near its defensive capabilities. After holding it down for a while—until the creature’s dusky hide began to glow with a faint, reddish light—Catherine sprang lightly off, releasing it. Turning back to Ling Mo, she asked, “Is this…physical damage reduction?”

Ling Mo applauded softly, smiling. “Correct! Very quick to notice. The Phantom Wolf is a semi-ethereal creature; it’s naturally resistant to physical attacks, reducing over seventy percent of all such damage. Conversely, its resistance to magical attacks is only half that of a corporeal beast. When you were still a mage, it felt feeble because a single lightning spell could nearly kill it. But now that you’re a martial artist, I’m sorry to say, almost all your attacks are physical at this stage.”

Catherine let out a long breath. So that’s how it was! Now that she understood, the situation felt even more troublesome. Real combat wasn’t like a game—losing seventy percent of your attack power didn’t just mean your blows were thirty percent as effective; in reality, it was more like ninety percent or more went to waste! It was like trying to break a brick with a full-strength punch—yet if you used only a third of your power, you could strike it ten times and not leave a mark.

Sure enough, the ensuing fight turned perilous. The Phantom Wolf, realizing its strength was no match for Catherine’s, also knew she couldn’t inflict much harm in return. Whenever Catherine attacked, unless she aimed for a vital spot, the wolf simply stood its ground, taking the blows and counterattacking in the moment of her follow-through. After several exchanges, Catherine’s only reward was a growing ache in her chest, while the wolf had left three claw marks and two long, narrow wounds on her body.

The longer the fight dragged on, the more anxious Catherine became. She knew that if they kept trading wounds, she would be the one to collapse first. Yet retreating was equally dangerous—though she was faster, turning her back would surely leave her open to a grievous attack. Damn it! If only she could use that dagger! That keen blade increased her physical attack power tenfold when she wielded it—enough to cut the beast down even with the damage reduction.

Wait—sharpness?

Suddenly, Catherine had an epiphany. She dodged the Phantom Wolf’s strike, seized an opening, and instead of forming a fist, she raked at its chest with clawed fingers. Her nails weren’t especially sharp, but they still tore a line of crimson across its hide!

Aha! This was the key! Catherine’s joy was mixed with self-reproach—so many predators relied on claws and fangs, so why had she foolishly persisted in punching after losing her master’s dagger? What power did fists really have? Now enlightened, her fighting style shifted completely—gone were the bold leaps and hammering blows, replaced by rapid, erratic movements, all focused on scratching, gouging, raking, and slashing.

In just a few seconds, the Phantom Wolf was covered in wounds, the worst nearly blinding it in one eye. Terror filled the beast—it had never expected this frail opponent to turn so fierce! As it became more and more overwhelmed, desperation forced it to use its innate skill, blinking away to a safer distance.

Catherine, having missed with her final swipe, didn’t pursue. She grinned tauntingly, making a crude gesture of mockery. The Phantom Wolf didn’t understand the sign, but her contempt was plain enough—it flew into a rage and, disregarding the gap in their abilities, charged once more.

The two were soon trading blows again. Watching her smug expression, Ling Mo shook his head helplessly. “You look rather pleased with yourself. Is using your nails really such a breakthrough? Did you think I brought you here just to learn a trivial trick like that?”

“Huh?” Catherine, startled, cast a quick glance his way. “But I really feel like I’ve improved a lot! Isn’t that worth something?”

“Blunt force from a fist and sharp force from nails are just different tools for different foes. Against the Phantom Wolf, claws work well; but against something like a Thunder Lizard, with thick skin and flesh, you’d be better off punching. Think back—when you were a mage, what kind of power worked best against the Shadow Wolf?”

What kind of power? Of course, light or lightning magic—especially lightning, which was inherently devastating to ethereal or spirit-type creatures. As she parried the wolf’s attacks, Catherine mused: Now she was a martial artist, with nothing but fists and feet—purely physical attacks. If only she could imbue her strikes with the power of lightning, even a little!

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she felt a surge of heat flow from her heart down to her right hand. Her palm grew hot, and, to her utter astonishment, arcs of blinding electricity crackled around her fist. With a thunderous snap and the sizzle of overloaded currents, she drove her electrified fist straight into the Phantom Wolf’s face!