Chapter 1414: Chapter 1: Quelling the Furious Spirit

[Wilderness]

On a nameless small hill within the former border no-man’s land on the west bank of the Big Horn River, the young hunter Bell patiently awaited his target.

A revolver gun with its spring already tightened, ammunition already compressed, ready to fire at any moment, lay quietly on Bell’s knee.

The barrel of this rifle was crafted by the finest reamers and grinders of Steel Castle, its body straight as light, its bore smooth as water, longer and more slender than ordinary rifle barrels, causing its price to rise exponentially with the length-to-diameter ratio, reaching a figure so high that the great figure of the Empire who commissioned it felt it unnecessary to pay the final installments.

Thus, the barrel eventually fell into the hands of “Baron Granashi,” and finally, onto the lap of the young hunter.

More valuable than the barrel was the gunstock and fore-end of this rifle. They were made from the underground part of a large tree growing on a plateau farther than the land of the Saracens, where the air is cold and sparse, and the land is rocky and hard, making it difficult for trees to grow, yet endowing the wood with a stunning grain unseen in trees growing in more hospitable environments.

This rifle required no unnecessary inlays or carvings, just polishing and oiling to reveal the extraordinary handiwork of nature, surpassing all man-made embellishments—this was the handiwork of the “Baroness.”

The hands that combined these materials belonged to an exile who found a home in a foreign land. He might not be the most skilled craftsman, but he valued his work more than any of his peers.

The best steel, the best wood, and the most sincere hands produced the finest rifle on the Herd Wasteland—perhaps even the best rifle in the Two Mountains Narrow Land.

However, if the hunter cannot find his target, even the best rifle is no different from scrap iron.

Beside Bell, the brothers Big White and Little White also sat on the hill, waiting for the target to appear.

Only, compared to the always patient Beast Whisperer and his older brother, Little White was already becoming a bit impatient.

The day was about to break, the “Great Canopy” was gradually turning iron-grey, with edges tinged with a faint red glow, like ashes.

Soon, the sun would rise, and the beasts would return to their dens, leaving them with no gains for the night.

Yet, despite the boredom, Little White didn’t make a sound, he simply held onto his rifle tightly, straining his eyes to look for the target.

At this moment, Bell glanced at the sky, loosened his shoulders, then cupped his hands into a horn shape and pressed them against his lips.

He lifted his head, took a deep breath, and two wolf howls carried from his position down the hillside, spreading into the fields and forest below.

The two howls were one short and one long. The short one came first, sharp and clear, like a greeting at the beginning of a letter, or a whip before a race.

The long one followed, heavy and turbid, accompanied by sustained undulations and lingering notes.

The two howls echoed and blended together. To Big White and Little White, it sounded like only one howl.

The brothers had witnessed the ‘Beast Whisperer’ show his skills before, but even today, they couldn’t learn or tell the difference—closing their eyes, it was indeed not a human making the sound, but a wolf howling.

Bell ended the howling with a “whimper,” then closed his eyes, holding his breath, listening intently.

The wind swept over forest and grasslands, crushing bird calls and insect chirps, making the earth extraordinarily silent.

Silence, silence is the dawn of the wilderness.

“Awoo…”

Without warning, a wolf howl echoed from the woods below the hill, responding to Bell’s call.

“Awoo…”

“Awoo…”

“Awoo…”

A string of wolf howls followed, overlaying one another, rising and falling.

Big White, Little White couldn’t help but shiver—because the howls came from directly ahead, very close, meaning tonight’s wait was not in vain.

The two brothers immediately became alert, observing the boundary between forest and grassland more carefully.

Hearing the wolf pack’s response, Bell again cupped his hands and let out a ghostly howl.

To Big White and Little White, this howl, though as “indistinguishable from man or wolf” as before, had subtle changes, but where it changed, they couldn’t tell.

In a manner of conversation, a wolf howl came again from the woods below the hill, as if responding to Bell’s call.

Little White’s heart raced.

Because this time, the wolf howl coming from the woods was much shorter, and the sound softer than before.

He couldn’t help but worry if the target was about to escape.

Yet in the next moment, a ghostly shadow emerged from the forest shadows.

As the shadow crossed the invisible but distinct boundary between forest and grassland, its previously vague outline became clear, solidifying into the image of a massive gray wolf.

The huge wolf approached the hill unhurriedly.

A while later, another gray wolf appeared at the edge of the woods, running quickly to follow the giant wolf, then came the third and fourth. The third and fourth wolves, compared to the first two large wolves, appeared slightly smaller, likely sub-adult individuals.

Seeing this scene, Little White was overjoyed, Big White let out a soft breath, casting a more respectful glance at the Beast Whisperer.

Summoning beasts from the woods—this is the divine power of the Beast Whisperer, and why whenever fierce beasts wreak havoc, the Herders seek the Beast Whisperer’s help first.

The wolf pack below the hill was the vicious beasts Bell intended to eliminate.

Though it was high summer, when food was most abundant and rabbits and mice filled the wilderness, these gray wolves continued to form a group, acting collectively.

They operated covertly, day in and day out, launching brutal attacks on the Wenduo Tribe’s cattle and sheep, leaving nothing but lamb skins, gutted calves, and shepherd dog carcasses for the herders.

What infuriated the Wenduo people more was this pack’s disregard for their Holy Beast, killing even the livestock offered to the Holy Beast.

Their harassment of the Wenduo people was too numerous and frequent, compelling Bell, who had assumed the Beast Whisperer identity, to resolve to kill them.

For half a month, Bell, Big White, and Little White continuously scoured the camp’s perimeter, searching for these vicious wolves.

They tracked paw prints on riverbanks, examined dung in thickets, and nearly scoured every crevice and hole near the camp to finally pinpoint the wolves’ lair and their usual routes.

Yet finding the enemy was one thing, killing them was another.

So, for three consecutive nights, Bell brought Big White, Little White to this hill each evening, “conversing” across distances with the wolf pack.

Now, the wolves had been summoned.

The moment to hunt had arrived.

“Stand.” Bell said succinctly.