Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

On June 20th, ten full weeks after his injury was set, the tribe's healer removed the wooden mold from Winters' left leg.

"Does it hurt?" Erhulan asked with concern.

Winters shook his head.

After two months, the broken leg that had been mended was finally reunited with its owner.

The owner of the left leg had put on a bit of weight, and his complexion had greatly improved—the diet of the herders was too high in fats and proteins, and his previously sunken cheeks and eye sockets had visibly filled out.

But his left leg had lost weight, the muscles atrophied, making it look like a straw compared to its twin brother, his right leg.

The tribe's healer pinched Winters' injury inch by inch.

Then he bent down to his leg and gently tapped it with a small wooden hammer.

"[Herde Language] Edun," the healer respectfully said to Erhulan, "[Herde Language] Batu can walk now."

Erhulan was overjoyed, presenting the healer with many gold and silver jewels as a reward.

"How is it?" Winters calmly asked.

"He said you can walk now."

Winters propped himself up with his hands and instantly tried to rise.

After taking just one step, he lost his balance and collapsed heavily to his left side.

Erhulan cried out as she went to support Winters.

But Winters swung his arms, struggling to regain balance, and wobbled around in circles inside the felt tent.

Observing Winters' steps, the healer asked, "[Herde Language] Batu, does your leg hurt?"

Erhulan, wanting to help but not daring to reach out, stood by Winters to translate for the healer, "He's asking if your leg hurts?"

"It hurts."

"[Herde Language] It should hurt!" said the healer, taking out an ointment from a cow horn and explaining, "[Herde Language] After two months, even a mastiff doesn't recognize its owner, let alone a leg, right? Batu needs to slowly adapt to his leg, and his leg needs to slowly adapt to him. Edun must remember to apply medicine and massage it daily. The bones haven't grown crooked, Batu will recover."

Erhulan happily saw off the healer and, when she returned to the tent, saw Winters putting on his boots.

Erhulan asked with a hint of panic, "What are you going to do?"

"The tent is too small; I'm going out for a walk."

Winters struggled to put on his boots, his left leg stiff and sore, making the process very awkward.

Erhulan hastily brought a folding chair, "The healer said you need to take it slow, you can't rush it."

Winters silently tied his shoelaces.

The tent flap was lifted, and Little Lion entered.

"I heard you can walk now?" Little Lion said excitedly, "Let's go! I'll take you for a bath!"

Erhulan shot a reproachful glance at Little Lion, "He's not completely healed yet!"

Little Lion looked around, "Doesn't he look pretty well? Nothing's crooked, is it?"

Hearing Little Lion's words, Winters stopped what he was doing with his hands.

For the past two months, he had moved almost exclusively within a three-meter radius of the tent.

Beyond daily washing up, he kept himself clean with a wet towel.

Initially, when he had been unconscious, Erhulan had wiped him down; after Winters regained consciousness, he did it himself.

He truly wanted to take a proper bath, no matter if the water was cold since there was no hot water.

Winters looked at Little Lion and slowly nodded.

Unable to persuade the two men, Erhulan silently helped Winters get dressed.

Now, Winters almost passed for a Herder at first glance: he wore cross-collared robes and leather boots, and his beard and hair had grown naturally for two months without grooming.

Only his eyes, they were somber, lacking the unrestrained and hearty demeanor of the Herders.

Little Lion brought over a horse and gently coaxed it to lie down so that Winters could mount the saddle without straining.

"Are you still comfortable?" Little Lion asked with a smile.

Winters pulled on the reins and nodded slightly.

The Herders didn't use iron bits, and luckily Winters hadn't used them in the past either.

The two started off at a slow pace, speeding up as they went, until they were almost galloping at full speed, all the way to the riverbank.

There was a pile of clothes thrown on the shore, while many men in the water were having a water fight.

The men engaged in the water fight were all adult-sized, yet they played like children.

"Come on!" Little Lion jumped off his saddle, excitedly stripping off his clothes, "We'll join them."

No sooner had he pulled off his robe, Little Lion suddenly remembered Winters' injury and helped Winters down from the horse.

Winters hesitated a bit, but he didn't refuse.

He slowly removed his clothes, carefully folded them, and waded unsteadily into the river.

The river water was ice-cold, making all one's hairs stand on end at the touch.

But once accustomed to the temperature, it wasn't a big deal; it was actually quite refreshing.

Winters walked deeper, the buoyancy of the water lessening the burden on his left leg, slightly reducing the soreness he felt.

Yes, just soreness. He didn't feel pain, only a sense of fatigue-induced soreness.

The men in the water hadn't noticed that two more had joined in—an ongoing occurrence—as they shouted and frolicked in their water fight, wrestling, fishing, and swimming.

Winters scooped up river water and gently washed his body.

A laughing man next to him splashed over, throwing water in his face.

Winters' muscles suddenly tensed, and he looked up sharply at the other man.

The man in front of him hadn't yet realized Winters might react violently, and kept laughing as he splashed water at him.

Winters, however, was stunned.

For the man splashing water at him, laughing like a child, was none other than the hero of the plains, the warrior of the tribes, the chief of the Red River Tribe—White Lion.

Two enemies, who had once fought each other fiercely on the battlefield, now stood before each other, naked.

Winters' gaze inevitably was drawn to the scars on White Lion's body.