Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 952 - 33: Hunt (Part 4)_4

Chapter 952: Chapter 33: Hunt (Part 4)_4

In the center of the yurt stood a half-man-high iron stove, on top of which a cooking pot was placed, and the gentle crackling of burning wood continuously came from the stove.

Thanks to this heat-giving iron stove, the inside and outside of the yurt were simply two different worlds.

Outside was the deep winter of the cold wilderness, howling winds; inside was a warm, blissful paradise.

Touching the fur laid out on the ground, Anna quickly took off her heavy boots, stood barefoot, and carefully stepped onto it.

The soft sensation under her toes made her unconsciously let out a gentle sigh.

The stew pot was bubbling with “gurgle gurgle” sounds; Anna carefully lifted the lid, and the aroma of lamb meat rose with the steam, diffusing in all directions.

Anna instinctively stepped back and turned her head because of the wall of hot steam.

The next moment, Anna could hardly believe her eyes.

Because she saw a bathtub.

A wooden bathtub large enough to accommodate an adult.

Anna took a deep breath, exhaled, inhaled, and after adjusting her mindset, she walked towards the bathtub, praying.

It was as if the gods had heard her prayers—the bathtub was considerately filled with water.

Anna touched the surface of the water—and it was also pleasantly warm.

A sense of happiness she had never felt before surged into Anna’s heart; she could hardly contain her impulse to cheer and jump for joy.

Carefully scooping up a handful of warm water, Anna sat dumbly for a moment, and for some reason, she suddenly started to sob softly.

But she quickly stopped the tears, wiped her eyes, and regained her usual demeanor.

She sat next to the bathtub, propping her cheeks with her hands, gazing at the water surface, contemplating how to use this precious warm water.

After a moment of thought, Anna shook her head slightly with a blush on her cheeks, felt the water temperature one last time, stood up, and prepared to see what else was set up on the other side of the yurt.

As she was leaving, Anna caught a glimpse of a neatly laid out set of clothes on the square table beside the bathtub.

Anna picked up the clothes—it was a very clean set of hunting gear.

…

[In the center of Qingqiu, the Palace Tent Complex of the Red River Tribe]

From a distance, only one splendidly ornate palace tent could be seen on Qingqiu.

In reality, there were more than just one tent; the palace was a temporary complex composed of more than a dozen yurts of varying sizes.

Accompanied by Little Lion, Winters entered the palace tent complex of the Red River Tribe without any checks.

The members of the Red River Tribe were making final preparations for tomorrow’s hunt, checking horses, testing bows, sharpening arrows…Warriors with various colored feathers scurried about; servants dashed out of one yurt and into another in a panic.

Winters observed the bustling scene of the Red River Tribe with interest as he followed Little Lion towards the most lavish and largest of the palace tents.

Suddenly, without any warning, Winters stopped in his tracks.

He turned to look behind him—there was nothing; he then scanned his surroundings—still nothing.

He continued walking forward.

Inside an inconspicuous tent ten steps away, Erhulan’s heart was nearly bursting from her chest.

An aged crone next to Erhulan asked hoarsely in Herde Language: “Is that him?”

The old woman was so aged that her years were indiscernible; her teeth were almost all gone, and her face was crisscrossed with wrinkles like ravines carved by the wind. Her hair and clothing were adorned with various animal bones, encompassing all kinds of creatures.

What was downright chilling were the crone’s eye sockets—what used to be there was gouged out alive, leaving behind two empty, dark, bottomless abysses.

“Yes, it’s him,” Erhulan hugged the old woman, crying in pain, “What should I do? Old mother…”

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The old woman hugged Erhulan back, her dry hands gently patting Erhulan’s back.

With the old woman’s consolation, Erhulan’s crying gradually subsided.

Through the thick yurt, the old woman fixated her gaze on Winters’ back.

There was clearly nothing left in her eye sockets, yet she strained to straighten her back, panting heavily, staring fixedly at Winters until he was far away.

“I’ve seen through the mist to White Lion’s future, and for that future, I returned the name of White Lion to him,” the old woman muttered in a hoarse voice, “But I can’t see that man’s future, nothing at all… I can only smell the scent of fire, blood, and tears… they all cling to him…”

Meanwhile, Little Lion lifted the curtain decorated with gold and silver, and Winters stepped into the palace tent of the Red River Tribe.

White Lion stood up and nodded in acknowledgement.