Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 976 - 44 Trading (Part 3)

Chapter 976: Chapter 44 Trading (Part 3)

The winch creaked, and the cable groaned in agony.

The heretic relic, long buried underground, was inch by inch lifted by the crane. Soil fell away in flakes, revealing the true form of the treasure. Under the torchlight, the surface of the heretic object glinted with a dim yet captivating luster.

Every person present couldn’t help but hold their breath—in the face of a lump of gold taller than themselves by half, anyone would react in the same way.

Because the density of gold greatly exceeds that of dirt, the idol had been slowly sinking.

Xial and his team had dug through the night to find the idol, facing countless moments of self-doubt. Then, it took a full day to clean up and expose the idol.

What remained was but to destroy it.

Anna couldn’t help but approach the idol, reaching out to wipe the wet mud from its face.

The golden visage was serene and peaceful, utterly indifferent to its impending end.

“It’s beautiful,” Winters said, walking up to Anna. “Isn’t it?”

Anna observed the golden idol closely.

This statue before her was nearly disconnected from the word “exquisite.” It seemed as if the Khan who ordered its casting disdained to carve out any detail, refusing to alter a single stroke after the heated golden liquid had cooled in the mold.

As a result, the facial features of the idol appeared so blurred, with the pits and flaws from the casting being preserved exactly as they were.

But precisely because of this, as compared to the gold and silver sacred vessels enshrined in churches, and the glittering crowns worn by kings and lords, this object of a heretic religion possessed a rugged, sturdy, and pristine beauty unique unto itself.

It didn’t need any delicate or intricate processing; its mere value was enough to overpower any sacred artifact or crown.

“How long has it… existed?” Anna asked.

“If the records in the Great Archive are correct,” Father Kaman, invited to oversee the ceremony, replied softly, “It should be around 240 years, forged by the first Khan conquering the Great Wilderness, out of the gold tributes from various tribes.”

Anna looked at Winters, wanting to speak but hesitated, and in the end, only a sighed regretfully.

Winters also felt a hint of regret. If it were possible, he would have preferred to preserve the idol as a monument. Because seeing this golden statue reminded him of the endless days and nights of the battles in the Great Wilderness.

But the future is more important than the past.

“One wonders how many relics like this have perished in history, leaving not a whisper behind,” Winters touched Anna’s fingertips. “But at least you witnessed its disappearance.”

Anna silently nodded.

Winters at last met the gaze of the idol, which stood silently; the west wind howled through the valley, and crows circled and called in the night sky.

“Melt it,” Winters said.

The final verdict thus delivered, the idol was dragged to the makeshift workshop. Father Kaman performed a simple baptismal rite, and the people immediately set about dismembering the idol.

The first saw stroke landed on the neck, as two blacksmiths used a specially made steel saw to sever the idol’s head, bit by bit.

Witnessing the sawing back and forth, the heart of the accompanying goldsmith ached almost to tears.

To minimize loss, craftsmen usually use shears to cut precious metals. But the size of the idol was so astonishing that not only shears were out of the question, but even axes and chisels were of no use; only a special steel saw could do the job.

The goldsmith shed his outer garment, hoping to catch the gold dust.

But how could he catch it? With a gust of wind, the gold dust scattered. They were the blood of the idol, returning to the wilderness.

The idol, worshipped by Hurd’s tribes for 240 years, was ultimately divided into seventeen pieces. The heavy gold pieces were buried in the charcoal to be heated, then melted into liquid in the crucible, and eventually cast into bars.

When the first light of dawn appeared in the sky, the golden idol was no more, replaced instead by gold bars neatly laid at the bottom of four carts.

Winters set down his walking stick, jumped onto a carriage, and picked up a gold bar.

The residual heat of the gold bar had long dissipated, cold to the touch. The bar, weighing around a kilogram, with the thickness of a sword handle and the length of a palm, fit snugly in one’s grasp.

The members of the envoy gradually gathered around the carts. Among them, some had followed Winters since the recruitment at Wolf Town, some were assigned to Winters’ command during the campaign in the Great Wilderness, and others were prisoners of war forcibly conscripted after Winters’ conquest of Revodan.

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The eyes of all were involuntarily drawn to the gold bars—while busy working, it hadn’t seemed like much, but once idle, they truly began to comprehend the immeasurable fortune before them, within arm’s reach.

Everyone’s heart thumped wildly, their mouths involuntarily secreting saliva, accompanied by heavy, overlapping breathing.

Winters surveyed his men, and in their eyes, he saw desire, awe, greed, and fear…

“The gold on these four carts,” Winters looked into the eyes of his subordinates, calmly stating, “is enough for any man to live like a god-king anywhere.”

No one could meet Winters’ gaze, not even Pierre, who also lowered his head.

“Come,” Winters casually handed a gold bar to Pierre. “Take this, feel it.”

Pierre hesitantly accepted the gold bar, while Winters continued to distribute them.

Soon, over sixty people present each had a gold bar, all a bit at a loss.

“No one’s seen what a life of royalty is like, so let me give a more tangible description,” Winters, showing the bar in his hand, said. “The small piece you hold would be enough for you to buy a farm in Newly Reclaimed Land and live a life of plenty. And on the carts, there’s a total of…”