Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 772 - 61 Confrontation_3

Chapter 772: Chapter 61 Confrontation_3 Chapter 772: Chapter 61 Confrontation_3 “What you think is known only to you,” Caman said with a hardened heart, clutching the holy emblem and avoiding Winters’ gaze.

“The arrow in his thigh was enough to cripple his ability to move! The arrow in his stomach could have killed him instantly!” Winters’ emotions erupted like a flash flood as he bellowed furiously,

“Even so, he struggled to swim across the Big Horn River! The Big Horn River that could freeze a man to death! Why don’t you understand? He wants to live! Even if it’s painful, he wants to live! It is not me who wants him to suffer; it is he who wants to live! Even if there’s just a glimmer of hope, he wants to live! Why can’t you see that?”

Caman, with his back to Winters, couldn’t see his expression.

The golden chain tied to the holy emblem pressed into the nape of Caman’s neck, leaving a deep furrow. Eventually, the chain couldn’t bear the strain and was violently torn apart.

Caman whirled around, swinging his arm wide, and delivered a harsh right hook to Winters.

In the instant the punch came flying, Winters instinctively entered a spellcasting state, but he suppressed his urge to counterattack and defend, clenching his teeth and taking the punch head-on.

Winters staggered from the blow, gradually regaining his balance and moving his jaw, asking, “Do you want to hit me again? I’ll let you have another punch.”

...

Leaning on his knees and panting heavily, Caman ultimately did not throw a second punch. He walked to the bedside, set down the holy emblem, and solemnly cleansed his hands.

Winters discreetly stepped away.

The commander and soldiers outside had already heard the intense argument inside the room and had consciously moved even further away.

So now, outside the door, there was only Winters.

Winters held his jaw, sitting silently outside the door. The pain gradually subsided, and a hint of swelling began to set in.

Upon hearing the dispute quiet down and seeing Winters step outside, Tess approached cautiously.

Seeing Winters’ swollen left cheek, Tess gasped in shock, “What… he… Caman… Priest Caman hit you?”

“Come here,” Winters beckoned Tess.

Tess, without doubting, obediently walked up to Winters, and then received a solid kick from his boot.

“Hit me?” Winters was so infuriated that he began to laugh, “Come on, explain to me, what does ‘hit me’ mean.”

“Then what’s this… How did you end up like this?” Tess was utterly bewildered.

After thinking for a moment, Winters replied, “Priest Caman’s condition for providing aid was that I take a punch from him without retaliating.”

A trade like this? Tess didn’t believe it, but nodded vigorously, “I see, I understand now.”

Winters held his cheek, slowly moving his jaw, “I hope the kid can pull through, so I didn’t take this punch for nothing.”

Tess stood up straight, his expression serious as he saluted solemnly, “Centurion, I thank you on behalf of that kid.”

Winters returned the salute nonchalantly, “One punch for a chance at life, it’s quite a bargain.”

“To be able to punch you, Priest Caman also is…” Tess struggled to find the words and finally squeezed out, “Worthy of remembrance for a lifetime.”

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“If he can save a life, that’s what’s truly worthy of remembrance for a lifetime.”

“Don’t worry, Centurion,” Tess assured confidently, “That kid has a huge will to live; he always manages to escape death. He’s tough, like a poplar or a willow, tough enough that even dead branches can sprout when stuck into the ground. He’s also adept at making baskets.”

“What’s his name.”

“It’s Claude.”

While they were speaking, Caman stepped out of the room, looking at Winters with a cold gaze, “I’ve repaired his organs and treated the wounds on his left arm and leg. I left a small opening in the abdominal cavity to allow the pus and blood to drain out.”

“Repaired the organs?” Tess exclaimed with wide eyes. But he was quickly silenced by a look from Winters.

“Thank you,” Winters said to Caman.

“Don’t thank me. He was lucky enough not to die on the spot. Even so, I’ve only just barely extended his life. Death is merely postponed, and before the grace of the Lord, he will endure unimaginable torment.” Caman stared at Winters, “I hope you won’t regret it.”

“I don’t regret it,” Winters said calmly, meeting his gaze, “and you needn’t either.”

Caman walked away expressionless. He had underestimated the vitality and will to live of this young man named Claude.

That night, just four hours later, Claude regained consciousness from his coma.

“Wood.” Claude’s voice was faint, “The barbarians are gathering firewood that has been burned, still dragging wood back from farther away.”