Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 560 - 105 Traveler_2

Chapter 560: Chapter 105 Traveler_2 Chapter 560: Chapter 105 Traveler_2 “Batu! Woo woo woo!” The crowd waved their hands in excitement, tossing their hats and beating their chests in cheer.

Erhulan, however, silently left; she returned to her own felt tent and took out a set of clothes from beneath a wooden chest.

It was a set of army officer academy uniforms, and she had meticulously mended every tear.

Clutching the old military uniform, Erhulan wept loudly.

…

The day after the wolf attack, someone from the White Lion’s camp came to invite Winters.

In the White Lion’s camp, Winters saw the recently elusive Monk Reed.

...

Monk Reed had completely changed.

The former Reed would make you unconsciously overlook his thin arms, sagging skin, white hair, and weathered face.

He would shout and jest like a young man, talking and laughing.

But now, Reed was just a candle burnt to its stub, an old man.

He was still himself, but immensely weak, as if each breath were expelling his life force.

His complexion had darkened, with only a glimmer of light remaining in his eyes.

He struggled to live, as if only to see Winters one last time.

Winters’s forehead veins bulged as he grabbed the White Lion’s garment: “What have you done?”

The White Lion merely shook his head.

“Hey! You lad, cough.” Monk Reed chided with a smile, “What are you doing?”

Only then did Winters release his grip.

“Wouldn’t I know when my time comes?” Monk Reed called out with effort to Winters: “I had you come just for a final meeting. Come here, sit by my side.”

Winters obediently sat down.

Now it seemed Reed had to expend a lot of energy even to speak: “I called you here because I want you to do something for me.”

“You just say the word.”

Reed smiled faintly and said, “This, you must do. Shave my head for me. I’ve ferried others all my life, and now in the end, someone ferries me, good.”

Winters had never been a barber; he’d only ever shaved his own beard.

But he did not refuse Reed’s request. He took the razor handedly and shaved the hair right there in the tent, young and old together.

Two months of carving practice had made Winters more precise in controlling his strength.

He was extremely careful not to leave a single cut on Reed’s wrinkled skin.

Reed’s white hair fell like snow, revealing one round brand after another.

“Actually, I don’t have much to tell you,” Reed said slowly with his eyes closed: “Just one thing. You, my young friend, are standing too low and looking too narrowly, especially at the expense of yourself.”

Winters stood silently behind Reed, meticulously controlling the force of the razor, continuing to shave off the hair bit by bit.

“If you don’t think about a hundred years from now, you can’t even ensure what might happen in ten. If you don’t consider the entire chessboard, you can’t even hold a corner of it.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ve heard, this world is a great sphere,” Reed’s eyes slowly regained vibrance: “Keep heading west, and you’ll return to the east.”

“Mhm.”

“Too bad, I won’t be able to complete that journey,” Reed chuckled and asked: “Do you remember you still owe me three months’ salary?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll not take your money. We Selikans value returning to one’s roots. After I die, you burn my body. Take my ashes, finish this journey, and bring me back to Selika, will you? Bury me in a place called Phoenix City.”

“Sure, I absolutely will.”

“Absolutely what?” Reed chuckled and tapped Winters, “That’s thousands of miles away, life and death uncertain. I can’t burden you with such a matter; I’m just talking. After I die, find a river and pour my ashes into it, that will be that.”

Winters remained silent.

As if remembering something, Reed continued with a wry smile: “But I took an oath, never to return east in this life. So you’ll have to find a river that runs from east to west, don’t try to fool an old man with a little puddle.”

“There’s no river flowing west between the mountains,” Winters’s voice trembled slightly: “Don’t rush, wait for me, I’ll take you back to Selika.”

“Is that so? No westward-flowing rivers, that’s a pity.” Reed coughed twice and gently patted Winters’s arm: “Don’t cry, what are you crying for, I’ve lived a full life. I’ve reached the westernmost place I can get to, and for someone my age, death is a happy occasion. You all must send me off with a smile. Don’t think you young folks will necessarily live to my age.”

After completing the head-shaving ceremony, Reed had Winters sit in front of him.

“Though you’re an unbeliever, let me bless you one last time. This is what Monk Philip said when he consecrated me; now I say it to you.” He held Winters’s hand, lightly touched Winters’s forehead and murmured:

“[Ancient language] You shall not fear the terror of the night, or the arrow that flies by day; nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness, or the destruction that lays waste at noon. Though a thousand fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, the disaster will not come near you.”

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Winters bowed his head in thanks to the old man.

Reed took a deep breath and suddenly returned to being the lively, bright elder full of wisdom.

He asked in a loud voice that could split clouds and break stones: “Am I poor?”