Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 519 Calming the Raging Spirit (Part 1)

[wilderness]
On an unnamed hillside in what was once a no-man's-land border region on the west bank of the Big Horn River, young hunter Bell patiently awaited his target.

A spring-loaded breechblock, fully loaded with ammunition and ready to fire, and a rifled shotgun lay quietly on Bell's lap.

The barrel of this shotgun was crafted by the best boring and grinding craftsmen in Steelburg. The barrel was as straight as light, the bore as smooth as water, and it was longer than the barrels of ordinary rifled guns. Its price also increased exponentially with the increase in the length-to-diameter ratio, eventually reaching a figure that even a certain imperial magnate who ordered it felt there was no need to pay the final payment.

That's why the gun barrel went through several hands before ending up in the hands of "Baron Granah" and finally on the young hunter's lap.

Even more precious than the barrel of this shotgun are the stock and handguard. The stock and handguard are taken from the underground part of a large tree that grows on a plateau even more remote than the land of the Saracens. The air there is cold and thin, and the soil is rocky and hard, making it difficult for trees to grow. However, this also gives the trees there a magnificent texture that cannot be matched by trees that grow in a more tolerant environment.

This hunting rifle needs no impractical inlays or carvings; simply polishing and oiling it to reveal the wonders of nature is enough to surpass any artificial embellishment—the Baron doesn't have such good taste; this is the work of the Baroness.

The hands that combined these two materials belonged to an exile who found a home in a foreign land. He may not have been the most skilled craftsman, but he cherished his work more than any of his peers.

The best steel, the best wood, and the most sincere hands have given birth to this best hunting rifle in the Heard Wilderness—and possibly even the best hunting rifle in the narrow area between the two mountains.

However, if the hunter cannot find a target, then even the best hunting rifle is no different from scrap metal.

Beside Bell, the two brothers, Big White and Little White, also sat on the hillside, waiting for their target to appear.

However, compared to the ever-patient Beast Spirit Speaker and his elder brother, Xiaobai was already getting a little impatient.

The moon had already set, and dawn was approaching. The "Great Dome" gradually turned iron gray, with a faint red glow at its edges, like a patch of ashes.

In a little while, the sun will rise, and the beasts will retreat to their dens. Tonight, they will return empty-handed once again.

Even though he was incredibly annoyed, Xiaobai didn't utter a sound. He just held his hunting rifle tightly and strained his eyes to search for the target.

Just then, Bell glanced at the sky, stretched his shoulders, and then cupped his hands into a horn shape, pressing them against his upper lip.

He tilted his head back, took a deep breath, and two wolf howls echoed down the hillside from where he was, reaching the open fields and forests below.

Two wolf howls, one short and one long. The short one came first, sharp and clear, like a greeting at the beginning of a letter, or like the crack of a whip before galloping.

The sound lingered long afterward, heavy and murky, accompanied by continuous ups and downs and a reluctant ending.

The two howls echoed and merged with each other, but to Big White and Little White, it was actually just one howl.

This wasn't the first time the two brothers had witnessed the "Beast Spirit Speaker" display his abilities, but even today they couldn't learn or distinguish it—if they closed their eyes, it wasn't a person making a sound, but a wolf howling.

Bell ended his howling with a "whimper," then closed his eyes, held his breath, and listened intently.

The wind swept through the forests and meadows, shattering the birdsong and insect chirps, leaving the earth exceptionally silent.

Silence, silence is the dawn of the wasteland.

"Ouch..."

Without warning, a wolf howl echoed through the woods below the hillside, responding to Bell's call.

"Ouch..."

"Ouch..."

"Ouch..."

A series of wolf howls followed, layer upon layer, rising and falling. Big White and Little White couldn't help but shudder—because the howls were coming from ahead, very close, which meant that their wait tonight had not been in vain.

The two brothers immediately became extremely alert and observed the boundary between the forest and the grassland even more carefully.

Hearing the wolf pack's response, Bell clasped his hands together and let out a mournful howl.

To Da Bai and Xiao Bai, this howl, like the previous one, was "difficult to distinguish between human and werewolf," but there were some subtle changes, though they couldn't quite put their finger on what those changes were.

As if in conversation, another wolf howl echoed from the woods below the hillside, as if responding to Bell's call.

Xiao Bai's heart jumped.

This time, the wolf howls coming from the forest were much shorter and quieter than before.

He couldn't help but worry that his target might try to escape.

However, the next moment, a ghostly shadow emerged from the shadows of the forest.

As the shadow crossed the invisible yet clear dividing line between the woodland and the grassland, its originally blurry outline became clear and solidified into the image of a huge gray wolf.

The giant wolf slowly made its way up the hillside.

After a while, another gray wolf appeared at the edge of the woods and quickly caught up with the giant wolf, followed by a third and then a fourth. Compared to the first two large wolves, the third and fourth wolves were slightly thinner and were probably sub-adults.

Seeing this, Xiaobai was overjoyed, and Dabai also breathed a sigh of relief, his gaze towards the Beast Spirit Speaker now showing even more respect.

Summoning beasts from the forest—this is the divine power of the Beast Spirit Speaker, and the reason why the Hed people seek the help of the Beast Spirit Speaker at the first sign of trouble when ferocious beasts cause harm.

The pack of wolves at the foot of the hill is the beast that Bear Grylls is trying to eliminate.

Even though it's the height of summer when food is plentiful and rabbits and mice are everywhere on the wasteland, these gray wolves still gather in groups and act collectively.

They were nocturnal and elusive, wreaking havoc on the cattle and sheep of the Wenduoer tribe, leaving nothing for the herders except for lambs with only their skins left, calves with their bellies ripped out, and the carcasses of sheepdogs.

What infuriated the Wenduoer people was that this pack of wolves showed no reverence for the sacred beast of the Wenduoer tribe, and even slaughtered the livestock offered to the sacred beast without hesitation.

They harassed the Wendor people far too often and too frequently, which made Bell, who had already accepted the identity of the Beast Spirit Speaker, determined to kill them.

For half a month, Bear Grylls, along with Big White and Little White, continued to search for the pack of wolves around the camp.

They traced footprints on the riverbank, examined droppings in the bushes, and searched almost every crevice and cave near the camp before finally pinpointing the wolf pack's den and daily activity routes.

However, finding the enemy is one problem, and killing the enemy is another.

So for three days in a row, every night Bell would bring Big White and Little White to this hillside to "talk" to the wolf pack from a distance.

Now, the wolf pack has been summoned.

The hunt has begun.

“[Herd] scaffold,” Bell said succinctly.

[To avoid undermining morale, I'll release half a chapter first.]
[It is true that hunters used wolf howls to summon wolves and then shot them.]
[Even in a documentary about Mongolian herders, an elderly Mongolian herder told this story: During World War II, when fighting the Japanese, the Japanese poisoned the water and rivers. Mongolian soldiers were trapped on the front lines without water, and the old man's father had no choice but to summon wolves. He and several comrades drank wolf blood to survive until they were rescued.]
The veracity of this story is unknown; it could simply be a tale a father told his son by the fireplace.
[However, the Japanese devils were indeed adept at using biological weapons. Considering the old man's father's background, the battle he was referring to was likely the Battle of Khalkhin Gol.]