Home / A Knight Who Eternally Regresses / Chapter 737: The Stench Laced with Human Cunning

Continue on Novkyn

A Knight Who Eternally Regresses

Chapter 737: The Stench Laced with Human Cunning · Oct 14, 2026

Prev Chapter Novel Info Next Chapter

Chapter List (976)

Page number / 20

701 Chapter 699: The Sword of Coincidence 2026-10-14
702 Chapter 700: The Storm After the Calm 2026-10-14
703 Chapter 701: You Know What to Do Without Using Your Head 2026-10-14
704 Chapter 702: Monsters and Talent 2026-10-14
705 Chapter 703: He Used Both 2026-10-14
706 Chapter 704: Now is the Time 2026-10-14
707 Chapter 705: Information is Power 2026-10-14
708 Chapter 706: Righteousness 2026-10-14
709 Chapter 707: Why Are They Fine 2026-10-14
710 Chapter 708: What Seems Impossible on the Surface 2026-10-14
711 Chapter 709: Intuition Tears Through the Mind 2026-10-14
712 Chapter 710: By the Law of the Continent 2026-10-14
713 Chapter 711: Black-and-White World 2026-10-14
714 Chapter 712: Reducing Error 2026-10-14
715 Chapter 713: Against the Waves 2026-10-14
716 Chapter 714: Just As Planned 2026-10-14
717 Chapter 715: This Bastard 2026-10-14
718 Chapter 716: Where the Hell Have You Been Wandering 2026-10-14
719 Chapter 717: Danger, Ferocity, and Roughness 2026-10-14
720 Chapter 718: Talent and Guarantee 2026-10-14
721 Chapter 719: Just Two Swordsmen 2026-10-14
722 Chapter 720: Just Two Swordsmen 2026-10-14
723 Chapter 721: Interesting 2026-10-14
724 Chapter 722: Barely 2026-10-14
725 Chapter 723: Explosion of the Dot 2026-10-14
726 Chapter 724: Even If I Die, You Must Keep Fighting 2026-10-14
727 Chapter 725: Because You Have the Chance to Choose 2026-10-14
728 Chapter 726: Clever Heskal 2026-10-14
729 Chapter 727: Let’s Have a Sparring Match 2026-10-14
730 Chapter 728: Drunk on Twilight 2026-10-14
731 Chapter 729: Stirred 2026-10-14
732 Chapter 730: An Interesting Storyteller 2026-10-14
733 Chapter 731: Imperial Swordsmanship 2026-10-14
734 Chapter 732: Come to the Empire 2026-10-14
735 Chapter 733: You Can’t Scoop Up Yesterday’s Spilled Water 2026-10-14
736 Chapter 734: Semi-Basement 2026-10-14
737 Chapter 735: Brunhilt, You’re a Genius 2026-10-14
738 Chapter 736: That Someone 2026-10-14
739 Chapter 737: The Stench Laced with Human Cunning 2026-10-14
740 Chapter 738: If the Pain is Too Intense, You Can’t Even Make a Sound 2026-10-14
741 Chapter 739: The Smiling Demon 2026-10-14
742 Chapter 740: A Life Grasped with One’s Own Hands Is Worth This Much 2026-10-14
743 Chapter 742: A Man Who Owes a Debt Opens His Heart 2026-10-14
744 Chapter 743: Loss 2026-10-14
745 Chapter 744: Resentment and Despair 2026-10-14
746 Chapter 745: The Day I Dreamed Of 2026-10-14
747 Chapter 745.1: Glossary of translation 2026-10-14
748 Chapter 746: The Ferryman’s Words Were Reasonable 2026-10-14
749 Chapter 747 2026-10-14
750 Chapter 748 2026-10-14

The two spotted panther beasts darted apart, one veering left, the other right.

Their bulging hind-leg muscles tensed, red tendons popping as they kicked off the earth with such force that afterimages trailed behind them.

Still—not a speed Enkrid couldn’t match.

He could just barely catch them. Bracing himself with hardened limbs, Enkrid focused his Will. He gave up stealth for speed.

Accelerated cognition fragmented the moment.

Crack—splinter—rip.

The gravel beneath his feet shattered and scattered. Twigs snapped and embedded into the dirt.

His right foot dug into the earth until it was half-buried. The soil, compressed and layered, hardened beneath the force he exerted.

His right foot was already halfway in, and his left was poised to launch—his toes curling tight, primed to spring.

If he chased them and struck, that would be the end of it. Even if something unexpected occurred, he’d at least sever one of ★ ★ their tails.

The metallic sheen of those tails gleamed even under the moonlight. Bladed—clearly usable as weapons.

Cutting those off alone would count as half a victory.

They’re not just offensive tools.

They were counterweights too.

Which meant losing them would throw off their balance and dull their movements. From there, capturing or killing them would be simple.

He already knew, instinctively. Those tails weren’t the threat. Even if there were ten panther beasts, not two, they wouldn’t be a real threat.

He was confident he could set traps to kill them. And if things got hairy, he could pull back.

A knight was a disaster not just to humans, after all.

A knight was a disaster to anything—beasts, monsters, enemies—that faced their blade.

In this case, their claws, fangs, or cunning wouldn’t stand a chance against Enkrid’s sword.

And yet—something felt off. His instincts yanked at his ankle.

That creeping unease weighed down his steps.

Crack.

His calf muscle tightened and then released.

He let his arms hang loose and looked up—

The two panthers had stopped and turned around. Their eyes glowed red beneath the shadows.

He’d only just eased off, and they halted immediately.

Did they feel the shift in pressure through their senses? Or was it pure animal instinct?

Either way—these weren’t ordinary beasts.

Atypical specimens.

Enkrid turned his body. He’d made his decision—no reason to hesitate now.

Time once spent couldn’t be reclaimed. Even with many paths, you only walk one.

And once you’ve chosen, there’s no need to regret.

Though, if someone asked him why, the only answer would be, “It felt wrong.”

Enkrid turned his back on them. No other monsters came charging out.

He turned and made his way back toward the village.

There, he saw Harkvent frozen in place, gripping a spear, unable to speak.

“If no one clears this, it’s going to start stinking.”

Enkrid gave the bear beast’s corpse a light kick with his toe.

Harkvent looked at him with deeply unsettled eyes.

He suddenly realized—the man in front of him was just as dangerous as the beasts themselves.

Enkrid stared back.

He’s got a lot on his mind.

Enkrid couldn’t read every nuance of Harkvent’s thoughts, but he could guess.

Not that there was anything he could say to ease that tension.

No words would erase the man’s fear.

The best thing Enkrid could do—

Is to finish off the monsters and leave as soon as possible.

But if that was his goal, he should’ve chased and killed those panther beasts earlier.

He hadn’t.

“Is there water for washing?”

“O-of course.”

Harkvent had drawn water from the spring below the village and stored it.

Even if it was meant for drinking, he let Enkrid use more than half of it to wash without hesitation.

Whatever his intentions, the man had saved the village. Offering this much was the least he could do.

And he was scared. What if he said they had no water—and the man grew angry?

The anxiety made his stomach twist. The village’s fate hinged on this man’s mood.

It might be better if he left. Better to risk fighting monsters than living with this pressure.

“Well then.”

Enkrid washed up quickly, kept a neutral expression with Harkvent, and went to sleep.

Night passed quickly. At dawn, Enkrid was already out, scouring the surrounding terrain.

Finding monster traces wasn’t hard.

Far.

He’d assumed that if they were targeting the village, they’d be lurking nearby.

But they weren’t. To pursue them meant straying far from the village.

So be it.

Still, his heart wasn’t in it.

Enkrid followed the tracks at a steady pace—neither fast nor slow.

That stink.

The smell of blood and rot specific to monsters permeated the air.

What was that scent again?

He remembered the moment he first entered that half-underground house. A sharp aroma had struck his nose.

When he asked, they’d said it was a local fruit—used as a spice to eliminate the gamey smell in meat.

That’s how the villagers were able to cook monster meat. Not that it tasted good—they only ate it out of necessity.

Brunhilt had clung to her spear, and some other kids had gathered around. One bright-eyed boy had gone on and on about it.

That smell had been unfamiliar.

But this one—he knew this scent.

A sickening stench had mixed with the blood and rot.

It wasn’t something he expected to smell on a monster.

It reeked of human cunning.

He didn’t smell it in the literal sense—but he sensed it clearly.

Humans used their brains. They added tactics to battle.

At best, it was called strategy.

At worst—it was cowardice masked as cunning, all to minimize losses and secure victory.

Enkrid could feel it now, in the traces the monsters had left.

A twisted stench of tactics.

He stopped.

As if to confirm his suspicion, the monsters stirred—and the air filled with that foul musk again.

No growls.

No sound at all.

They blended with the grass, crouching low, staring at him with glowing red eyes.

They used the wind.

They’d hidden their scent and presence by using the wind’s direction to mask themselves.

Or more accurately—they’d left tracks on purpose to lure him in.

Feces, blood—intentionally marked territory.

He could picture the scene: a monster clawing its companion or itself to leave behind scent trails.

Now wolves emerged—dozens of them. Their formation widened into a semicircle, surrounding him.

It wasn’t even surprising anymore.

Ambushes and encirclements—he expected them.

The wild dogs were just a prelude, weren’t they?

Enkrid knew what tactic these beasts were using.

Diversion.

Which meant—he knew where he needed to be.

He spun around and sprinted back. The unease that had weighed his ankles now pulled him home.

Bark!

The wolf in the center barked, and the formation began to close, cutting off retreat.

Enkrid counted the ones blocking his path.

Nine.

The third from the left stood tallest. The second from the right was crouched low, ready to spring.

There was no sound of Enkrid drawing Three Iron.

Because he hadn’t sheathed it to begin with.

He marked the wolves’ heads as points in space—and drew a line in his mind.

From there, instinct took over. His Will surged, driving his speed.

He extended Three Iron left—then swept right.

The blade zigzagged.

A flash refined by cognitive optimization.

A barrage of flickers—each movement guided by the most efficient path his brain could calculate.

What emerged was a jagged arc of white devastation.

Lightning.

CRACK—CRACK—CRACK—

Nine wolf heads split open. Not all at once—but in such rapid succession that only a top-tier knight could tell them apart.

A technique born from the explosive strikes he’d learned from Alexandra, honed through optimized cognition. Practically acrobatic.

On the surface, it looked like a fast, simple cut—but the way he channeled Will was anything but simple.

All nine wolves died instantly, their skulls cleaved apart.

Nothing stood in Enkrid’s way now.

He ran—and ahead, he saw a massive snake, large enough to swallow someone like Brunhilt whole.

CRACK!

The snake coiled around a massive tree and crushed it—then hissed a chilling, fear-soaked wail.

The sound alone could paralyze prey.

“I’ll hold it off!”

It was the village entrance.

Harkvent stood alone, spear in hand. Blood dripped steadily from his arm—soaked the dirt at his feet in crimson starkly different from monster ichor.

Enkrid saw him—and instantly understood his plan.

A trap.

He meant to bait the snake.

He’d said the wild dog beasts only got him because they rushed suddenly—otherwise, he could’ve killed them all with traps.

But this snake?

That thing wouldn’t fall to a pit and stakes.

Enkrid moved forward without hesitation. With certainty. Sword raised.

The snake didn’t even look back—it whipped its tail, slinging a log toward him.

Penna flowed downward in a sweeping motion, slicing the log clean through.

Slice.

In terms of sheer sharpness, Penna surpassed Three Iron. The log’s cross-section was perfectly smooth. The sound was like cutting soft meat.

Enkrid burst between the two severed halves.

Penna already sheathed, both hands now gripping Three Iron.

The descending blade met the snake’s head.

Whoosh—BOOM.

The sword drew its line faster than sound. To Harkvent, watching from mere meters away—it was as if Enkrid appeared, a tree split, a white streak followed—and the snake’s skull simply opened.

A clean split. Blackened brain matter oozed from the gash.

The blade moved so fast, no sound followed. Not even a delay of blood between the halves.

It wasn’t just clean—it was beyond human.

Enkrid had reached the realm known as knight—or rather, calamity.

He could wield the sword in ways that surpassed the limits of his species.

In fights between knights, that difference was hard to see.

Against monsters—it was unmistakable.

Tap. Thud.

Enkrid landed before the snake’s body hit the ground. The earth trembled slightly as it fell.

He lifted his head, listening.

It wasn’t over.

Several deer with fangs longer than any wolf’s had charged into the village.

On the trees—fox beasts glared down with glowing red eyes.

“Damn it, Harben!”

Someone shouted his name.

Their traps were pits—filled with sharpened stakes.

They’d placed them all at the village front.

But the monsters kept slipping in from the sides.

They know about the traps.

The wild dog monsters delayed him.

The bear monster drew attention.

They’re trying to pull me away.

Now it was certain—this monster pack was intelligent.

Clever and cunning enough to mock most humans.

“En-Ki!”

Brunhilt’s voice rang out.

Not ”Dad”—but him. It was instinctual.

The one who could get her through this wasn’t her father.

It was the outsider with the sword.

Enkrid moved.

Kicked off the ground, ran up the trees, and sliced a charging deer’s neck in one motion.

The head spun through the air before thudding down.

He jumped down, steadied himself—threw a spear—and in the same motion, hurled a horn-handled dagger he’d drawn.

FWOOM!

A knight’s strength might as well be called superhuman. The dagger split the deer beast’s skull like a ripe pumpkin.

Enkrid caught sight of a two-tailed, white-furred fox.

It backed away. Smart.

After watching him take down several monsters, it had judged the distance.

It stood atop a towering tree, so tall you couldn’t see the top by looking up. The fox danced along the branches with unnatural lightness.

As if this, too, was merely a test.

As if to say—it still had more to show.

Enkrid turned his gaze away.

No time to chase.

Someone would die if he paused even for a breath.

He couldn’t allow that.

Less than twenty monsters had entered the village—including the snake.

But if it weren’t me—someone would’ve died.

Brunhilt, panting, lifted her spear when she saw him.

“I got one!”

The gifted child had speared a fox beast. The shaft was half-shattered.

“We need a meeting,” Harkvent muttered as he looked around.

No one had died.

But that didn’t ease the fear in his heart.

Prev Chapter Novel Info Next Chapter

Also worth opening

Reincarnation Of The Strongest Sword God Lucky Old Cat

Reborn As Super Heiress Mushuang

Supreme Star Card Master Cloud Camellia

Journey To Become A True God Darkforces

Shadow Slave Guiltythree

Chaotic Sword God Xin Xing Xiao Yao

Gravity Mage with Level-Up System Aravind_S

My Vampire System JKSManga

Martial God Asura Kindhearted Bee

Shadow Slave Guiltythree

Versatile Mage Chaos

Inheriting A Divine Cultivation Clan At The Start, All My Juniors Are Empresses Monkey Bread

Supreme Emptiness Heavenly Overlord

Affinity: Chaos Springs_Halo

Ancient Godly Monarch Jing Wu Hen