Chapter 210: Departure

It should be January of the year 1772 of the Common Calendar by now. Lorist stared at the rows of stars drawn on the wooden wall, lost in thought. The only member of the mountain barbarian tribe who knew the exact date was that tribal shaman-witch with the bird's-nest tangle of long hair. Even asking what month and day it was turned into some mysterious, theatrical production — the old fraud would put on a whole act before finally telling you the date. What a joke.

For the past thirty-odd days, Lorist and Redi had basically been cooped up in their little wooden hut. Aside from going out a few times to clear snow and empty the chamber pot, there was one occasion when the two of them seized a break in the blizzard to sneak down to the small river at the base of the ridge, break through the ice, and pull out roughly a hundred pounds of fish. The catch was decent, but on the way back to the settlement they ran into a mountain barbarian patrol and had half their haul confiscated.

However, it was precisely that encounter with the patrol that had revealed a critical weakness of the mountain barbarians — their combat capability dropped drastically in winter. In the past few years, Lorist had led the Norton Family armed forces to fight off the magical beast tide each winter, growing quite accustomed to crawling through snow and sleeping on ice in temperatures of minus twenty or thirty degrees. That was largely thanks to his extreme emphasis on proper winter gear — fur-lined coats, fur hats, fur gloves, windproof overcoats, fur face masks. You could say he was armored to the teeth.

Of course, this also owed a great deal to Lorist's experience of border garrison duty in the frozen frontier of his previous life. For the soldiers of the family's armed forces, he would not hesitate for a moment to bring out precious demon antelope pelts to make frost-resistant, insulated clothing. Though there was no cotton or cotton fabric on the Galentea Continent, equipment made from magical beast furs surpassed anything else in warmth and cold resistance. On top of that, every soldier in the Norton Family armed forces had awakened Combat Force. With the circulation of qi through their bodies combined with a full set of fur garments, standing up to the cold was no challenge at all.

Compared to the fur coats and fur trousers of the Norton Family forces, the mountain barbarian patrol soldiers simply wrapped magical beast pelts around themselves — more like piled them on, layer upon layer of furs draped over their bodies. But their calves were left bare. Even the crude fur coats that did exist had absurdly wide sleeves. No wonder that even barbarians at the Mountain Spirit Eighth Ring — roughly equivalent to the Silver Second Star rank in Combat Force — were all freezing half to death, hunching their shoulders and shivering as they made their patrol rounds.

On days without snow or wind, the mountain barbarians who hibernated in the great cave would send out patrols of nearly a hundred men to circle the settlement twice a day, morning and evening. The main purpose was to check whether any dangerous carnivorous magical beasts had crept into the settlement to hunt. So when Lorist and Redi dragged their huge pile of river fish back to the settlement, they happened to run into the afternoon patrol. The barbarians were quite surprised, but Lorist spread his hands and said they'd had nothing to eat and had been forced to go fishing.

The patrol was in a difficult spot. Leaving the settlement without permission was a serious offense. But you couldn't just let people starve to death, could you? And besides, Lorist and Redi had returned. After much deliberation, the bearded barbarian leading the patrol decided to confiscate half the fish as punishment. They didn't like eating fish and were wary of bones, but a bowl of fish soup in the dead of winter was still something nice. And that was the end of it. Later, after the bearded barbarian returned to the cave, he even sent someone over to deliver a bag of mountain kudzu root to Lorist. In that respect, these mountain barbarians were actually fairly decent people.

Thirty-odd days had passed. Lorist's injuries had mostly healed, and he had accumulated a third of his internal energy in his dantian. Give it another ten days or so, and the damaged meridians would be fully restored after being nourished and repaired. Lorist could finally breathe easy. As for Redi, the bruises and blood clots on his head had been reduced through Lorist's relentless massage and qi-infusion over this period to just one large clot. Once that last big clot was dissolved, Redi should regain consciousness.

Outside, wind and snow howled together. Another blizzard was descending.

Lorist sat cross-legged on the heated brick bed, the small wooden cabin as warm as spring. He had just finished a treatment session for Redi, who was now curled up in the corner, sleeping soundly. After each treatment, Redi would become extremely drowsy, sometimes sleeping for ten or more hours a day, which often made Lorist worry he might never wake up.

After circulating his Gold-Water Art for another full cycle to recover the internal energy spent on healing Redi, Lorist closed his eyes. He began to recall, in meticulous detail, every moment of his fight with the Galentea Great Swordmaster. He remembered how laughably arrogant he had been before, how elated after defeating Great Swordmaster Cindy. So full of himself, he had believed no one in this world could gain an advantage against his sword. He had been complacent and smug, until a single assassination attempt—one old Great Swordmaster—had dashed him from the clouds back to the dust. Not only had it caused heavy casualties among his loyal and brave Family Knights, but it had also brought him a humiliation beyond words…

He had believed that his superior swordsmanship and his Family's strength would let him live freely and at ease in the Northland. Now it seemed that was all just his own excessive pride and self-importance. A third-tier Great Swordmaster could leave him in such a wretched state. What would happen if a Sword Saint came? Everything else was but a flower in the mirror or a moon in the water—only personal strength was the fundamental foundation for survival in this world.

Having felt the shame, he now had the courage to strive forward. Lorist had come to a clear realization; he could no longer indulge himself and must become stronger, to hone his skills rigorously. Just like now, sitting cross-legged, meticulously recalling every strike from the Galentea Great Swordmaster's sword, carefully considering how he should have defended and counterattacked…

*Bang, bang, bang!* A series of loud knocks on the door pulled Lorist's eyes open. Strange—who would be knocking in this blizzard? He needed to be careful not to mistake the ramming of some carnivorous magical beast on the door for someone knocking. If it really was a beast and he opened the door, that would be a fine mess.

"Who is it?" Lorist called out loudly.

"It's me. Open up!" A voice echoed faintly from outside.

Lorist opened the door. The figure that rushed in was that hunched-back mountain barbarian old man, wrapped up so thickly he resembled a large meatball.

The old hunchbacked barbarian stomped his feet vigorously the moment he entered.

"What are you doing here?" Lorist asked coldly.

"What do I want? Heh heh, kid, this place is mine now. Get out, both of you!" the old man snarled with a hideous grin.

The hunched-back mountain barbarian old man had probably frozen half to death in his decrepit little shack and decided to set his sights on Lorist's cabin once more.

"Forget the beating you got last time? Besides, with this blizzard howling outside, where exactly do you expect us to go?" Lorist stared at the hunched-back old man, no longer intimidated in the slightest.

"I don't care where you go — you can freeze to death for all I care. Last time... last time I still haven't settled the score for that whipping I took. You actually dared to tattle on me. And now if I kick you out, who's going to bother me? The Mountain Chief won't leave her cave in a snowstorm like this. The soonest you could go snitch on me would be two months from now, so get out now!" The hunched-back old man raised his right hand, and it was only then that Lorist noticed he was clutching a thick leather whip.

The hunched-back old man lashed the whip down onto Redi, who was dozing by the fire pit. Redi woke with a start, staring at the old man in bewilderment.

"Get out, now!" The old man grew furious at Redi's confused gaze and raised the whip to strike again.

Lorist lunged forward and snatched the whip from his hand.

"You damned slave dogs, how dare you resist!" The old man raged, hopping with fury.

Without a word, Lorist drove a vicious fist straight into the old man's solar plexus.

"Ugh..." The old man went rigid and froze in place.

Lorist's punch hadn't used much internal energy — merely enough to keep the old man rigid and immobile for ten minutes or so. Without the slightest courtesy, he stripped the two thick layers of ox hide wrapped around the old man's body, opened the door, dragged the old man out, and tossed him into the snow. He closed the door and said to Redy, "It's fine. Go back to sleep."

"Okay..." Redy lay back down.

Half an hour later, Lorist draped an ox hide over himself and stepped outside to check. The hunchbacked mountain barbarian old man had already frozen solid. Lorist brushed the ice and snow off the corpse, then carried it over to the old man's dilapidated wooden shack.

The inside of the broken shack was as cold as an ice cave. In the middle of the floor sat a cracked clay jar serving as a brazier, the firewood inside frozen and soaking wet. Lorist noticed that the plank walls had several large splits in them — they had originally been stuffed with a mix of mud and fur, but whether the filling had fallen out or cracked from the cold, he couldn't tell. A bitter wind carrying snowflakes whistled through every gap. No wonder the hunchbacked old man couldn't take the cold anymore and had come running over in desperation, trying to forcibly seize Lorist's small cabin.

In the farthest corner of the room lay a large heap of wild grass — apparently the old man's sleeping nest. Lorist threw the corpse on top of it, then took the ox hide from his own body and draped it over the corpse, making it look as though the old man were still sleeping.

After that, Lorist rummaged through the rest of the shack. He found a rusted longsword hidden beneath the pile of grass. Other than a mess of miscellaneous junk and garbage, there was nothing of value. The old man had quite a stockpile of food, but Lorist didn't touch any of it. He simply took the longsword and a small wooden plank, slipped out of the shack, and used the plank to scrape smooth his own footprints in the snow as well as the tracks the old man had left coming over. Then he returned to the cabin.

The blizzard raged for four days and three nights. The moment the sky cleared, Lorist and Redy came out to shovel the accumulated snow off the roof. After working at it for most of the day, they finally spotted the mountain barbarian patrol emerging from the rock cave and heading their way.

Leading the group was the same bearded mountain barbarian giant from last time. As he drew near, he even gave Lorist a greeting.

Lorist pointed toward the hunchbacked old man's broken shack and said, "Every other time, when the snow stopped, that old man would call us over to help him clear the snow off his roof. But he still hasn't come out today. I'm wondering if something might have happened to him?"

And so the bearded mountain barbarian led his patrol toward the broken shack. Before long, a commotion erupted from that direction.

Lorist ran over to see what the commotion was about. The bearded mountain barbarian giant spotted him and waved him over, saying, "The hunchback old man froze to death. Come over here. He's got a few pelts and several bags of mountain kudzu root — take them all."

Lorist happily trotted over, collected the pelts and mountain kudzu root, and brought them back to the small wooden cabin. Then he led Redi over to help clear the snow piled up beside the old broken shack. They dug a large pit in the ground and buried the hunchbacked mountain barbarian elder.

With the hunchbacked old barbarian gone, only Lorist and Redi remained in the sprawling settlement. Every other mountain barbarian had retreated deep into the great rock cave. If not for the fact that Redi had yet to regain consciousness, Lorist could have simply strutted out of there at any time.

In those days of frozen earth stretching a thousand li, snow drifting across ten thousand miles, and cold winds howling through the wilderness, Lorist spent his time either treating Redi or restoring his own internal energy to repair the damaged meridians. He also used the cowhide he had taken from the hunchbacked old barbarian's belongings to sew leather clothes, leather pants, tall leather boots, leather gloves, a leather face mask, leather goggles to prevent snow blindness, and a leather outer robe. He unraveled his own outer robe for sewing thread, and from inside it he recovered a small sharp blade, a long needle, and several fishhooks, all of which he put to use as tools for stitching the leather garments.

Though his sewing skills left much to be desired, the two sets of leather outfits were finished within ten days. After that, he prepared some dried rations for the road and fashioned a pair of pine-board skis. All that remained was to wait for Redi to wake up.

In the remaining days, Lorist drove himself to train with his sword in the blizzard like a madman. On days when the gale howled without cease and through nights when the snow stretched endlessly in every direction, the moment a flash of insight struck him from his recollection of his battle with Great Swordmaster Galignan, he would rush out into the freezing wasteland and push himself until he was completely exhausted. And so it went. Lorist honed his swordsmanship bit by bit, and the days slipped by one after another.

After three more rows of small stars were scratched into the wooden wall, Redi's treatment finally reached its final step. With his left hand, Lorist gently pressed the last spot of congealed blood on Redi's head, while his right palm rested against Redi's back, channeling his qi along the meridians upward to the skull. Little by little, he battered the clot of stagnant blood, and when that last bit of coagulation was finally dislodged, Redi slipped into unconsciousness.

This time, Redi slept for only four hours before waking. He opened his eyes and, upon seeing Lorist sitting beside him, spoke up: "My lord... I think I had a very, very long dream..."

Lorist chuckled. "Do you remember what you were doing in the dream?"

Redi furrowed his brow and thought for a long while before finally shaking his head. "I can't recall. It seems like there were many people, but you were always by my side, my lord... Oh, wait. My lord, weren't we on a cliff? I shot that old man with an arrow, and then I fell off the cliff — there was a sharp pain in my head, and after that I don't remember anything. My lord, where are we now?"

"We're currently slaves of the Mountain Barbarian tribe." Lorist gave Redi a brief overview of their present situation, then ruffled his hair. "If it weren't for you losing your memory, I'd have gone back to the family estate ages ago."

Redi shook his head. "My lord, you're wrong. You should have gone back sooner. The family can do without me, but without you, I'm afraid things would fall apart..."

Lorist tossed him the small silver flask containing the second-grade healing potion. "Stop worrying about things that aren't your concern. Do I look like the kind of lord who'd just abandon one of his own Family Knights? There are still two or three drops of second-grade healing potion left in this flask. Drink it and immediately circulate your Combat Force to restore blood flow. I'm giving you three days — once your body has recovered, we'll head back to the family estate. Without Combat Force, even with leather armor, you won't survive the freezing weather out there."

Redi caught the small silver flask. "My lord... has your injury healed?"

"Don't worry, I've made a full recovery. I've just been waiting for you to get better. Now drink the potion quickly," Lorist said with a smile.

Three days later, Redi watched the white sword gleam flashing along his longsword with great delight. "My lord, look! My Combat Force seems to have grown a bit stronger, and the sword gleam is a little longer too."

Lorist was drawing on the wooden wall with a piece of black charcoal and didn't pay him any attention.

Redi set down his sword. "My lord, what are you drawing?"

"Oh, I promised the Mountain Barbarian chief here that I'd build her a dining hall. Now that we're leaving, I won't have time to help her with it. So I'm sketching the steps and structural plans for building the dining hall on the wooden wall. Hopefully they'll be able to understand it and build their dining hall following these drawings. I'm almost done — pack your things and we'll be leaving here shortly." Lorist spoke as he continued to draw.

Once Lorist set down the charcoal and held it up to the torchlight to admire his sketches, he turned to Redi and said, "These drawings are simple enough... the Mountain Barbarian people should be able to understand them, right..."

A sudden urgent knocking interrupted Lorist's words.

Redi opened the door, and a figure bundled up head to toe rushed in. The person unwound the animal hide wrapped around their head, and only then did Lorist recognize the thick-lipped Mountain Barbarian woman.

A surge of humiliation rose in his chest, and Lorist said with icy eyes, "What are you doing here?"

A smile appeared on the thick-lipped Mountain Barbarian woman's face. "I'm with child. The witch doctor divined that it's your seed..."

Lorist was struck as if by lightning, his entire body trembling...

Redi was dumbstruck.

The thick-lipped Mountain Barbarian woman continued, "...My husband died in battle two years ago. Now that I'm carrying your child, I can marry you. That way, you won't have to be a slave anymore. You can join our tribe, and I'll treat you well..."

Lorist's figure blurred as he snatched the longsword from beside the fire pit and drove it through the thick-lipped Mountain Barbarian woman's chest with a wet squelch...

The thick-lipped Mountain Barbarian woman slowly lowered her gaze to the longsword embedded in her chest, then slowly raised her head to look at Lorist. Despair and sorrow of the dying flickered in her eyes as her pale lips trembled and managed three words: "Why...?"

Lorist was trembling too. He let go of the sword hilt and staggered backward until he collapsed onto the fire pit's edge. "You... you are the greatest... the greatest humiliation of my life..."

The thick-lipped Mountain Barbarian woman toppled backward, and Radix stepped forward to steady her. The Mountain Barbarian woman murmured a faint, final words—"My child..."—and then drew her last breath...

The atmosphere inside the small wooden cabin froze as if the air itself had turned to ice. A long while passed before Lorist finally raised his head. "We leave now..."

Radix looked down at the Mountain Barbarian woman's body in his arms. "M-My lord, what should we do with her...?"

Lorist sighed. "Bring her. Find somewhere to bury her..."

On a solitary little hilltop, Lorist spent his inner energy to blast away the thick frozen crust of snow and ice, dug a deep pit, and laid the Mountain Barbarian woman's body to rest within it. Then he sat beside the fresh grave mound for a very long time.

"Forget this. For me, it was a nightmare..." Lorist finally rose to his feet.

Radix nodded.

"Let's go. It's time we headed home..." With a firm push, Lorist shot down from the hilltop on his skis.

Radix followed close behind, and the two of them streaked across the vast, white snowfield like twin bolts of lightning...

...(To be continued.)