Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

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Although Winters could now move freely, Erhulan still accompanied him, even more inseparably than before.

"I am willing to talk with you in this felt tent," Erhulan said, her expression somewhat sad, "The people in the camp, sigh, they don't want to listen to me, they don't need to listen to me."

The herdsmen had already taken their herds and dispersed, probably because the pasture could only accommodate a limited number of livestock spirits.

However, the camp was still operational, with many people, tents, and herds left behind; they were all Erhulan's private property.

The legitimate wife of White Lion and her children had died in the war years ago, and the children at his knee were still young.

As the sister of White Lion, it was natural for Erhulan to manage a portion of the old camp. White Lion doted on his sister, giving her many subjects, servants, and herds.

So Erhulan was indeed the mistress of this camp.

But she had been away from the wilderness for a full ten years. At Hongsong Manor, she was a personal maid to Lady Kalman. In the Red River Tribe, she suddenly became the ruler of an Orodos.

It wasn't just the people who were uncomfortable with this; even Erhulan herself was not used to it. The situation where servants bullied their master was inevitable.

"I don't understand Herde society," Winters reflected after some thought, "but I see that when the tribe migrates, the daily striking of camp, walking, and pitching of tents is not much different from fighting in the army. The army, it values rewards and punishments the most. Do well and you are rewarded; do poorly and you are whipped."

Erhulan shook her head repeatedly, saying softly, "How could I dare to whip someone?"

Winters calmly said, "You don't have to do it yourself, just assign someone else to carry it out. But there must be rules, and they must be fair."

"I..." Erhulan's eyes reddened, and she hesitated, "Sigh..."

Little Lion ran into the felt tent, interrupting their conversation.

He asked Winters with an exaggerated expression, "I heard from Bell that everyone calls you 'Blood of the Wolf'?"

Bell and Little Lion were close in age and had somewhat similar experiences, so they got along well.

Erhulan wiped her tears and turned to leave the tent.

Winters sighed and, leaning on his cane, also left the tent.

"Erhualn? Batu? Why are you going?" Little Lion asked, confused, and turned to laugh at Xial, "Why would you call him 'wolf'? Wolf is not a good word!"

Xial, who had been feigning deafness until now, questioned in return, "Wolf is a bad word? Don't your people worship the wolf?"

Little Lion angrily retorted, "That's a slander by outsiders against the tribes! Wolves are greedy and malicious; how could we possibly worship wolves? We compliment people with words like eagles, stags, thoroughbreds, mastiffs, have you ever heard anyone praised with the term wolf? To insult someone, you would use 'wolf cub'. Tribe members would attack a wolf on sight."

Little Lion laughed and asked Xial, "Then there's Batu; didn't he happily accept the nickname 'Blood of the Wolf'? So who actually worships the wolf? Is it you, or us?"

Xial was left speechless; he muttered, "My brother wasn't 'happy'..."

"Then why do you call him 'Blood of the Wolf'?"

Xial said helplessly, "Because my brother's previous nickname was even worse."

"What? There's such a thing?" Little Lion's interest was piqued, and he pestered Xial, "Come on, tell me about it."

...

Little Lion's tongue was indeed nimble; by day he speaks ill of wolves, and by night the wolves come.

Late at night, Erhulan's camp suddenly erupted into chaos.

Someone violently banged a gong and desperately shouted, "In Herde Language: Wolves have breached the pen! The wolves are here!"

Men startled from their sleep, grabbing their wolf-beating sticks and rushing out of their tents.

Awakened by the commotion, Winters frowned and, leaning on his cane, also intended to head outside.

Xial, bleary-eyed and seeing this unfold, instantly lost all sleepiness, hastily trying to stop Winters, "Brother your injury hasn't healed! Don't go!"

Winters remained silent and walked into the camp.

The wolves had leapt into the sheep pen, intending to feast, but were startled by the herdsmen and ran off into the distance.

The men of the camp promptly mounted their horses, calling out to each other and chasing after the wolves, brandishing their sticks.

The sound of hoofbeats gradually faded away, and the camp returned to tranquility.

The women who stayed behind lit torches and busied themselves counting the sheep.

Two pregnant ewes miscarried due to fright, and a few others were bitten on the neck.

The men returned one by one, some empty-handed, others bearing injuries—riding horses at night was fraught with danger.

In the crowd, Erhulan desperately sought somebody, asking everyone she saw, "Have you seen Batu?"

Everyone shook their heads.

More and more people came back, all but Palatu Batu.

Eventually, Little Lion also returned.

Erhulan ran forward, grabbing her brother's arm as tears streamed down her face, "Did you see him?"

Little Lion shook his head.

Erhulan seemed to have all her strength drained in an instant, collapsing feebly to the ground.

"Let's go." Little Lion tried to help his sister to her feet.

Erhulan just stared blankly in the direction the man had disappeared, unwilling to leave.

Little Lion had no choice but to light a bonfire beside his sister, keeping her company.

The dark night gradually receded, and Erhulan's tears had also run dry.

At the break of dawn, Little Lion firmly dragged his sister to her feet, "Come on, he's not coming back!"

Suddenly, the silhouette of a horseman appeared on the horizon.

The horseman was moving slowly, but he was indeed heading towards the camp.

Erhulan's tears uncontrollably started flowing once more.

The horseman got closer and closer, and as daylight brightened, the people in the camp could finally see that the horseman was carrying two wolf carcasses on the horse's back.

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