Outside the window, snow covered everything in white, and the mountain ridges were clad in thick winter garments. The cold wind blew fiercely, cutting like a knife against one's face. After only three days of absence, the hunting lodge was blanketed in ice and snow. Long, sharp, crystal-clear icicles hung from the eaves all the way down to the ground, and the snow in the yard sank up to one's knees when stepped on. This was perfectly normal, since the previous three days had seen a continuous blizzard…
Seven days ago, Reidi and Tager had left the hunting lodge on skis, heading for Windbury, the royal city. By now,
Lorist's solution to the food problem could be summed up in one word: borrow. Or, more precisely, four words: forcefully borrow grain. His targets were all the nobles holding fiefs in Winston Province and the surrounding regions, including even three Northland allies—the Phelim family, the Shahin family, and the Kenmais family. Although wars had raged in recent years, most of them had taken place in distant provinces. The nobles with fiefs in the provinces surrounding Northland had finally enjoyed a few years of peace.
On top of that, the heavens had been kind and the harvests had been good. Take the Dina barony, for example—its granaries were stuffed with grain. Although the
In a few more days, the sleigh convoy dispatched from Windbury to transport grain would arrive to collect borrowed supplies. Even though Adorli was Lorist's lover, the Dina barony would inevitably have large quantities of grain taken from it. Adorli was somewhat unhappy about this, but she also understood that at this critical juncture, she could only stand by Lorist's side and help the Norton family weather this crisis.
Three days ago had been January 1, 1789, by the Galentea Continent's universal calendar. At Adorli's invitation, Lorist had gone to the wooden castle to celebrate a warm New Year's with Adorli and her son. Since her injuries had healed, Adorli had clung to Lorist for three days straight. Well, most of those three days had been spent in bed. Adorli had taken it into her head to give Triec a little brother or sister, so Lorist had toiled like a workhorse in bed for three days.
"Crazy woman…" Lorist muttered as he slapped his still-sore lower back. A few times now and then was passion, but going at it for three days and nights straight was torture. The thought of the five women back home—vixens he hadn't seen in two years, waiting for him to return to Northland to satisfy them—made Lorist shudder. Even as a Sword Saint, he couldn't withstand their daily demands…
Whoa… getting carried away there, Lorist smacked his forehead to clear his head. First, he used his ski pole to knock the icicles off the door, then went inside, removed his skis, shed the wolf-skin cloak and bear-skin coat he'd been wearing, and changed into a simpler leather outfit. He then lit a brazier, started a fire in the fireplace, and added some warmth to the room. Next, he headed out to clear the accumulated snow from the hunting lodge and the yard.
After working through the morning and afternoon, he finally cleared the ice and snow from the roof and the icicles from the eaves, then swept the yard clean. Seeing that it was still early, he geared up again and made a round through the redwood forest. This wasn't Lorist being dutiful—three days ago, he had set over a dozen snares in the redwood forest and was now checking to see if he'd caught anything.
When he reached the redwood forest, Lorist found he was a bit late—the animals caught in his snares had already become meals for uninvited guests. Three days ago, he had set nearly twenty snare traps in the forest, targeting red mountain pheasants and wild mountain hares. These two small creatures were the most numerous in the redwood forest, and there was no end to catching them. They were truly delicious, especially since they had built up thick layers of fat for the winter.
Seven of the eighteen snares were empty. Three of the more secluded ones yielded two fat pheasants and one frozen wild hare for Lorist. But the remaining eight traps showed only scattered pheasant feathers, remnants of hare fur, and bloodstains—even the snare mechanisms had been nearly torn apart. Examining the tracks nearby, Lorist estimated that three wild wolves and a magic bear that had come down the mountain to forage were responsible. It looked like he wouldn't be idle for the next two days—he'd have to deal with these magic beasts that had descended from the mountain first.
As for the option of lighting a signal fire to warn Adorli at the wooden castle, that had never even entered Lorist's consideration. Warn about what? He had been practicing the Dan Sea Qi Drawing Art and had already reached the peak of the third layer. His strength had recovered to the first-rank Great Swordmaster stage. Even if two Great Swordmasters came, Lorist was confident he could take them down with his swordsmanship and experience. How could a few magic beasts possibly concern him? Light a signal fire to warn and ask for help from Adorli, who was only a Silver-tier? What a joke!
Dinner was roasted rabbit and pheasant soup with big red mushrooms, along with a large sack of rye bread and sausages fetched from the wooden castle—that would be more than enough. He'd been a bit run down these past few days. Later, he'd have a bottle of red berry wine to restore his energy, then soak in a medicinal bath tonight. Once midnight came, he could officially begin practicing the Gold-Water Art. The sooner he recovered his Sword Saint-level strength, the sooner he could return. The family was in complete chaos right now.
In fact, he felt more free and at peace here in the hunting lodge. Being a noble ultimately meant eating well, dressing well, and enjoying privileges far beyond those of commoners. But could all of that compare to what he had enjoyed in his previous life as a minor craft workshop manager? No movies or television, no computers or internet, no mobile phones. Even a commoner in his previous life had enjoyed more than the kings and nobles of this world. If it were possible, Lorist would rather give up everything here and return to that imperfect past life…
Of course, these were just idle thoughts while roasting the rabbit. What truly made it impossible for Lorist to let go wasn't his status or position, nor was it power and influence. It was the cultivation he now possessed and the responsibilities he bore. In his previous life, he had never experienced the exhilaration of the Gold-Water Art's full completion—the thrill of breaking through layer after layer of the body's limitations—or the god-like perspective of absolute dominion upon unfolding his Domain as a Sword Saint. If returning to his previous society meant abandoning his cultivation, Lorist would have to seriously weigh whether it was worth it.
There were also the many retainers in the family who had pinned their hopes on him, yearning to bring honor to their ancestors and secure a bright future. This had become another burden on Lorist's shoulders. Among them were close friends and loyal followers—people like
Am I getting old? Why does one thought keep leading to another… Lorist rubbed his smooth chin—right, Adorli had shaved off his full beard back at the wooden castle. Adorli had said, "Since you've recovered some of your strength and no longer need to fear the Great Swordmasters sent to assassinate you, and no one would come looking for you in this freezing winter wilderness anyway, you should shave off that awful beard. It's such an eyesore. Being intimate with you lately felt like having an affair with someone else—it was so awkward…"
So Lorist had graciously complied, and with Adorli personally attending to him, had his beard shaved clean and some skin-conditioning marten oil applied. It now felt as smooth as an eggshell.
The roasted rabbit was turning a beautiful golden brown, dripping fat continuously—it was indeed plump. The rabbit fat sizzled with a crisp hiss whenever it dripped onto the fire. Hmm, it needed a bit more roasting. A layer of salt and seasoning brushed over the surface, roasted until slightly charred, would make it truly delicious. Beside him, a ceramic pot sat on the brazier, bubbling with steam. Chunks of pheasant meat tumbled with big red mushrooms in the rolling broth, their tantalizing fragrance filling the entire hunting lodge and drifting out through the half-open window into the dark world outside…
The flavor was quite good and delicious. After tasting the soup, Lorist was quite pleased with his own handiwork. He carried the ceramic pot to the log dining table and moved the brazier to a corner nearby. Then he placed the roasted rabbit in a wooden basin, put the rye bread closer to the fireplace to warm and soften, and brought out the red berry wine. A hearty dinner awaited Lorist to enjoy. Just then, he heard a scratching sound coming from the thick wooden door downstairs.
Lorist went to the kitchen, first closing the door to shut out the light from the dining room, plunging the kitchen into total darkness. Then he tiptoed to the window, opened it a crack without a sound, and peered downstairs. There, at the main entrance on the first floor, three wild wolves the size of calves were scratching desperately at the thick door, eager to rush inside and find the scent that lured them…
Excellent—he had been planning to go find them, but here were three wolves delivering themselves to his doorstep. This saved him a great deal of effort; he wouldn't have to brave the snowstorm tomorrow to track them down. Lorist gently closed the window, careful not to startle the three wolves at the door below, then returned to the dining room, retrieved his sword from the table, went to his bedroom, pushed open the window, climbed onto the roof, and slowly made his way along the protruding eaves toward the other side of the lodge.
The three stupid wolves at the main entrance were still crouching on the ground, scratching at the thick door. Drawn by the intoxicating aroma drifting from inside, all three had thrust their black, glistening snouts into the gap beneath the door, sniffing hard, utterly unaware that death had descended upon them.
Lorist drifted down from the first floor's roof like a falling leaf, utterly silent, and landed with one foot on the back of a green-furred wolf crouching on the ground. A series of crisp cracking sounds rang out beneath his foot as bones shattered, and the wolf collapsed to the ground, beginning to howl in agony. Almost simultaneously, the long sword in Lorist's right hand had already pierced the left eye of the wolf to his right. With a twist of his wrist, the wolf crumpled to the ground without a sound, as if struck by lightning.
All of this happened in the span of a lightning flash, but the wolf on the far end was remarkably alert. It darted sideways almost the instant Lorist descended, becoming the only wolf to escape the slaughter. Though it couldn't yet comprehend what had happened or what had befallen its two companions, it stood five meters away, fixing Lorist with a pair of blood-red eyes.
Lorist ignored the groaning green-furred wolf at his feet and instead faced the wolf five meters away, retreating step by step with his sword held ready. The wolf continued to stare motionless at Lorist. Just as Lorist was nearing the corner of the house, he suddenly turned and ran. Unable to restrain itself, the wolf arched its back and launched itself through the air, charging straight at Lorist.
At two meters out, the wolf kicked off the ground with all four paws and lunged at Lorist with its massive jaws agape. Lorist spun around, and his long sword shot into the gaping maw with swift ease. He sidestepped two paces and drew the blade free. The wolf's body, still airborne, grazed past Lorist's figure and thudded to the ground.
"Beasts are just beasts—no brains at all. See someone's back and chase after them, never stopping to think how someone could turn and run for ages yet still be in the same spot. But this worked out perfectly. Three excellent wolf pelts, not a single one wasted, with no visible wounds on the outside. And there was hardly any blood, saving me the trouble of cleaning up the ground." Lorist was extremely pleased with his wolf hunt and its results.
He went to the main entrance and dispatched the still-whimpering green-furred wolf—sword through the eye once again. The world immediately became much quieter. Just as he was about to open the front door, he suddenly caught a gust of foul wind sweeping in from behind.
"Not good—" Lorist dodged swiftly. A massive paw tipped with sharp claws swiped through the afterimage of his figure and slammed hard into the thick wooden door, leaving three deep claw marks in the dark brown wood.
Lorist darted three meters away and spun around to look. Well, his luck tonight was quite something—not only had three wild wolves shown up, but even a magic mountain bear had come following the scent. It seemed that in the future, whenever he spotted magic beasts coming down the mountain, there would be no need to hunt them down. Just brew a pot of pheasant soup and they would come to him.
Lorist was quite pleased. Standing upright, the magic bear would be an estimated two and a half meters tall—on the larger side for a magic bear. If he presented this bear's carcass to Adorli, she would certainly jump for joy. The hall of the wooden castle was already decorated with a magic bear's pelt, but unfortunately, that bear had been smaller than this one, and its pelt was riddled with patches—one hole here, another there. The reason was simple: that bear had been ganged up on and beaten to death by Adorli and her people, so its pelt naturally had no shortage of damage.
If he sent this bear, its body intact without a single wound, to the wooden castle, Adorli would surely display the pelt proudly on the hall's wall to showcase the Dina family's valor. Well, as her lover, he was naturally considered part of the Dina family in her eyes—not an outsider.
The magic bear was looking at its own paws in confusion, sniffing them. Lorist had moved far too fast—the bear couldn't understand how its prey had suddenly vanished. It had used the most stealthy movements, taking advantage of the wind and snow for cover, to creep within striking distance. How could the prey just disappear? But soon, the bear's attention was drawn to the two wolf corpses at the entrance. Good—the bodies hadn't stiffened yet, and they suited its taste just fine. The bear settled down to enjoy its meal.
"Damn it, those are my prey!" Lorist charged forward and drove his sword into the right eye of the magic bear, which was turning its head toward the sound of his voice. He twisted the blade hard, then released the sword and retreated swiftly.
The magic bear let out a howl that shook the entire mountain range, its anguished scream echoing between heaven and earth for a long time. The bear rose to its feet, furiously swinging its massive paws at the invisible enemy all around it. Then, slowly, slowly, it lost its strength and collapsed onto the snow, freezing stiff amid the swirling white snowflakes.
The next day, having heard the dying magic bear's scream and worried about Lorist, Adorli brought several guards and made her way up the mountain on skis with clumsy, unfamiliar movements. When she saw the magic bear and three wolf carcasses, her excitement led her to give Lorist a passionate kiss as a reward. Then she cheerfully ordered people to drag the four magic beast corpses away.