Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 965 - 39 s Hunting (10)_2

Chapter 965: 39 chapters Hunting (10)_2

Pierre, who was leading people to replace saddles on captured horses, was puzzled: “What’s wrong?”

Old Sergei drew his sword and slashed towards the corpse’s chest, but instead of a spattering of blood and flesh, the sound of metal colliding emitted a dull thump.

Old Sergei then flipped open the garment on the corpse, revealing thin iron plates, each the size of a palm, affixed inside the leather robe.

“They all wore hidden armor!” Old Sergei tore off his scarf and spat: “I wondered why there was no blood when they were hit by arrows.”

“Fabric armor? Plate armor clothing?” Colonel Moritz curiously touched it: “Can the Herders make this too?”

Pierre furrowed his brow: “Not to my knowledge. Last time we clashed, the Red River Tribe’s armored soldiers were using small iron pieces strung together into laminar armor.”

“Let’s worry about what the Herd Barbarians can make later!” Old Sergei pointed to the nearby — people from the Tonrid Tribe were joyously stripping the corpses of their armor.

Old Sergei clenched his teeth, his expression like that of a wolf: “Look! Only a few of the Tonrid barbarians wear armor; they came to hunt, not to fight! Now look at the barbarians who ambushed us, every one of them wearing hidden armor! They were prepared well in advance! Investing so much, whoever wants to eliminate the Red River Tribe surely won’t just send these few men!”

Members of the Iron Peak County Delegation all had similar thoughts, but Old Sergei was the first to explicitly point it out.

The fierce wind carrying sand and dust moaned ominously, almost as if one could vaguely hear the sounds of hooves, screams, and the clashing of metal, like bloodshed was happening everywhere.

The slight sense of security everyone had just felt vanished in an instant.

“What do you mean?” Pierre asked in a deep voice to Old Sergei.

“Let’s go, now.” Old Sergei spoke firmly: “We ride two or three on a horse if we must. First, back to the camp, and then find a way to locate the Civil Guard Officer, let him decide whether to stay or go. Get more horses, the more the better. If the Red River Tribe can’t hold, then we can only rely on ourselves.”

“Returning to the camp is the safest.” Pierre thought hard, undecided: “But the sandstorm is getting worse, it’s hard to discern the direction…”

Colonel Moritz suddenly extended his right hand, spread his fingers, and raised it high, as if feeling something.

This abrupt action caught everyone’s attention. They exchanged glances, hesitating to question him due to his rank.

Moritz lowered his hand, looking around at everyone: “The wind is dying down.”

…

[In the center of the hunting ground, Green Mound]

Winters sensed the change in the wind just as well. He immediately looked towards the flags in front of the royal tent, observing the horsetails gradually drooping lower.

At the peak of the sandstorm, standing atop Green Mound, one couldn’t discern directions at all, only able to see the vast expanse of red sand and dust.

With his vision limited, Winters used the orientation of the royal tent to gauge north and south, roughly locating the direction of Iron Peak County Delegation.

Erhulan made no objections, only requested that the captain of the guards stationed at Green Mound send someone to escort Winters.

Before departing, Winters went to bid farewell to Little Lion.

Little Lion was still unconscious, his face pale, lying quietly on the soft couch. An elderly healer stayed by his side, nodding slightly as Batu entered the tent, continuing to finger his rosary beads.

Winters paused for a few seconds, said nothing, and turned away.

In just the time it took to enter and exit, the wind speed had already changed significantly.

As the sand followed the wind, with the wind weakening, the gravel also settled down, leaving only some fine dust floating in the air.

Standing atop the summit of Green Mound, the panoramic view of the hunting ground gradually became clearer.

Relieved, Erhulan timidly asked Winters: “Is it… over now?”

“No,” Winters replied, “Now is the most dangerous moment.”

…

[On the outskirts of the hunting ground, an unknown location]

The change in the wind wasn’t only happening at Green Mound; throughout the vast hunting ground, everyone felt the mysterious fierce wind that appeared and then mysteriously disappeared.

“[Herde Language] What’s going on?!” Shiya Tribe leader Geha, both shocked and scared, sharply questioned the armored soldier beside him: “[Herde Language] Why has the wind stopped?”

A dark red viscous liquid dripped from Geha’s sheath, and his lance was also smeared with blood.

According to the agreement, the Priests of the Haidong Tribe will summon strong winds and flying sand, and the Shiya Tribe only needs to use this astronomical phenomenon to create havoc.

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But now, the wind is visibly getting weaker.

What should we do? What should we do?

No matter how prepared beforehand, the forces of the Shiya Tribe are just that many—barely a hundred riders. Once the Red River Tribe regroups, the Shiya Tribe will be crushed in the blink of an eye.

“[Herde Language] What’s the panic?” the warrior said gloomily, glancing at Geha: “[Herde Language] The Red River Tribe is already a bird in a cage, meat on the plate. The young warriors of the Haidong Tribe and Suz Tribe will arrive soon.”

“[Herde Language] Soon! Soon! Why haven’t they arrived yet?”

The warrior did not answer. He stared intently in the direction of Qingqiu, suddenly punching his thigh heavily: “[Herde Language] Whether they come or not, what can we do? The arrow cannot be recalled once it’s left the bow! It’s too late to disperse the tribes now. To make the tribes flee like startled gazelles, there’s only one path left to take!”

Geha looked towards the direction pointed out by the warrior, and in the distance on the hills, the palace tent of the Red River Tribe was shimmering with golden light.

…

[Central hunting grounds, Qingqiu]

The real commander of the Red River Tribe’s palace guards is not Little Lion, nor Erhulan, but Green Plumed Feathers Stag.

As soon as the sandstorm weakened, Stag immediately sent messengers to spread the news to the surrounding tribes. A warrior bearing the banner of the Red River Tribe galloped down Qingqiu, speeding off in all directions like lightning.

When Stag found Winters, he brought twelve fully-armed quiver bearers.

Facing the notoriously fierce champion of Paratu, Green Plumed Feathers Stag maintained both vigilance and courtesy: “[Herde Language] These young men will escort Batu back.”

After listening to Erhulan’s translation, Winters waved his hand, cutting to the chase: “No need to waste troops to escort me. Since the sandstorm has stopped, there’s no chance to fish in troubled waters. Now, the most dangerous place is actually Qingqiu. You should consider retreating immediately.”

Because of the special treatment by White Lion, the Green Plumed Feathers of the Red River Tribe harbored a mixture of awe and jealousy towards the champion of Paratu.

It is also because of this mixed feeling that Winters’s straightforward suggestion made Stag feel humiliated.

Stag suppressed his anger, responding loudly: “[Herde Language] The warriors of the Red River Tribe only advance! There is no retreat! White Lion entrusted Qingqiu to me, and I will not let the jackals snatch White Lion’s palace tent.”

Normally, Winters might have dismissed Stag’s words with a laugh, but at this moment, Winters was also filled with anger.

“Advance only, no retreat?” Winters retorted with a cold laugh: “From my personal experience, you have retreated more than once!”

Stag glared fiercely at the champion of Paratu, as if he might draw his sword the next second.

After a brief standoff, Stag bowed hastily and left with large strides, leaving the twelve quiver bearers uncertain whether to stay or go.

Seeing the fearful look in Erhulan’s eyes, Winters restrained himself from showing any emotion, calmly saying: “Now… he’s even less likely to retreat.”

…

[Edge of the hunting grounds, Iron Peak County Delegation camp]

A flag-bearing rider sped to the vicinity of the people of Iron Peak County, shouted a few times, then dashed towards other tribes.

“What did he say?” Pierre asked, frowning: “Translator!”

The Translator who was changing saddles hurried to Pierre’s side, quickly responding: “He seems to be saying ‘Red River Tribe wants to kill you and me, Red River Tribe wants to annex the tribes.’ I only heard these two sentences clearly.”

Old Sergei scoffed: “Red River barbarians wanting to devour other tribal barbarians, isn’t that fucking obvious? Did he need to come all the way to say that?!”

For some reason, as soon as the sandstorm stopped, the horses also gradually calmed down.

Pierre wasted no further time, immediately ordering to prepare horses to leave.

“From now on, stand by my side!” Pierre sternly ordered the Translator: “Translate whatever the Herders say, and don’t miss a single word!”

Three riders came galloping from the direction of Qingqiu, the lead rider also bearing a white horse tail banner.

The three riders circled the felt walls, shouting loudly to pass the message whenever they encountered people.

Pierre looked at the Translator.

“Let us not move.” The Translator strained to discern the voices through the sound of hooves: “White Lion orders all tribes to hold positions on the spot, no movement permitted without orders…”