Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 542 - 100 Ball_2

Chapter 542: Chapter 100: Ball_2 Chapter 542: Chapter 100: Ball_2 As he spoke, Little Lion picked up two wooden spikes from Winters’ lap.

Comparing them side by side, he couldn’t help but draw in a cold breath. “I thought you were whittling these sticks for fun, after all, they seem too short even for skewering meat. But now I see, they are all identical, without the slightest difference! Ha, this is indeed a unique skill.”

Winters made no comment and continued to whittle the spikes.

“Someone has come to see you, Winters.” Erhulan said cheerily, leading someone into the tent.

“Greetings and best wishes, Paratu champion, are your injuries feeling any better?” The visitor entered the tent and respectfully presented a small gift package. “My master sent me to visit you.”

The visitor unexpectedly spoke in fluent Common Tongue, which until then only three people in the camp could speak: Winters, Erhulan, and Little Lion.

When had a fourth person arrived?

...

Winters’ face was expressionless, and he did not accept the gift; he remembered who this person was.

Little Lion raised his eyebrows high. “Who are you?”

The visitor replied meekly, “I am the Translator for the firekeepers.”

Little Lion gave a snort, took the gift, and opened it to see. “Pepper?”

“Yes, pepper.” The old Translator’s attitude became even more subservient. “I was worried that this noble lord might not be accustomed to the prairie diet, so I brought some spices.”

“What are you here for?”

“Please allow me to speak privately with this noble lord. I am an old servant, weak and frail; this lord could kill me with a flick of his finger, rest assured.”

Little Lion was inclined to refuse outright, but he still sought Winters’ opinion with a glance.

Winters nodded slightly, and with a sidelong look at the old Translator, Little Lion stepped out of the felt tent with Erhulan.

Without speaking, Winters and the old Translator simply sat staring at each other in silence for a short while.

“How are your wounds?” The old Translator broke the silence, smiling as he asked, “Is there anything we can do?”

Without uttering a word, Winters conveyed with his eyes, “Speak your mind.”

The old Translator coughed lightly and suddenly changed his tone, demanding abruptly, “Where is the Ritual Gold Figure?!”

Unmoved, Winters replied, “It’s been divided up. Let Monkey Butt Face piece it together himself.”

“You’re lying!” The Translator’s gaze sharpened, scrutinizing Winters’ eyes, face, and fingertips for any tiny movement. “We found no trace of the gold figure! None of the prisoners had it, and it wasn’t in the camp! Nobody knows where it is!”

“Good, that’s your problem.”

Suddenly, the old Translator seized Winters’ wrist. “Where is the Ritual Gold Figure?!”

Winters smirked, his pulse steady as a dripping faucet.

The next moment, the old Translator faintly saw the shadow of a fist appearing before his eyes.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

Then came the crisp sound of breaking bones as he was struck and sent sprawling onto the ground, tears, blood, and saliva streaming down his face.

“Don’t seek death.” Winters’ voice was cold and clear. “Monkey Butt Face wants the Ritual Gold Figure? Tell him to save some money; perhaps he can afford a smaller version.”

The old Translator was about to explode, but Little Lion and Erhulan had already rushed back into the tent upon hearing the commotion.

“What happened?” Little Lion’s hand on the knife hilt, he looked sternly at the old Translator.

The old Translator cradled his nose, sharply setting it back into place with one forceful motion. He rose from the ground, bowed to the others, and walked away with a darkened expression.

“What happened?” Little Lion asked Winters with concern.

Winters loosened his wrist. “Collusion of the dishonorable.”

“That old servant has some skill.” Little Lion scratched his head, “He didn’t even cry out in pain, just fixed his own nose and walked away.”

“You might not necessarily win against him,” Winters reflected on the feel of the old Translator’s palm. “The calluses on that man’s hands… are even thicker than mine.”

Winters’ thoughts went back to the north shore of the Confluence River. “It’s a pity I didn’t realize it back then and kill him on the battlefield. Now, even if I wanted to, it’s no longer possible to kill him.”

Fearfully, Erhulan discarded the bag of pepper the old Translator had brought. “We don’t need this. What if it’s poisoned?”

“Don’t worry,” Winters leaned back on the blanket and spoke languidly, “Right now, the most concerned with my well-being is Monkey Butt Face. I heard they slaughtered a lamb today; why don’t we make lamb offal soup? Just like on Red Sulfur Island, with a bit of crushed pepper.”

“Alright, I’ll make you lamb head to eat.” Hearing the nickname Monkey Butt Face, Erhulan’s almond-shaped eyes curved with laughter as he took the pepper and left the tent.

The pepper was crushed and sifted.

Lamb stomach, intestines, heart, and lungs were cleaned and shredded, blanched first, then boiled to create a white broth.

Pepper powder was sprinkled into the lamb broth, with a bit of a sauce made from wild chives flowers growing on the prairie.

A large gulp would make the bitter chill of early spring disappear without a trace.

In the end, Erhulan brought out noodles he had secretly prepared.

This was the warmest meal Winters had ever had in the Great Wilderness.

…

Winters ate well, but some were frustrated.

After leaving the camp, the old Translator hurried south without stopping.

In a hollow sixty kilometers away, the firekeepers were waiting for him.

If Little Lion saw this scene, he would be furiously indignant.

The pastures of Terdun lay south of the Great River, nearer to the southern Jinding Mountains.

The grazing lands of the Red River Tribe lay to the north of the Great River, closer to the northern Sheltering Mountains.

The “Great River” mentioned by the Herder tribes was referred to as Ashen Stream River by the Paratu People, and Torrent River by the Venetians and the United Provincials.

This river flowed from west to east, nearly bisecting the land between the two mountain ranges.

Even The Styx would eventually flow into the Great River, which is why the Herders also called it the River of a Thousand Rivers, the Father of Rivers.

However, before it met with The Styx, the upper reaches of the Great River did not carry more water than The Styx itself.