Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

The old man, having gone on at length, wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand.

Having heard the old man's words, Winters had made up his mind.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, asking earnestly, "If I give you land, give you oxen and horses, give you ploughs, and food enough to last until next year's wheat harvest, and everything else you need... how about that?"

The old man was stunned, and so were the other farmers, even the surrounding militiamen were taken aback.

...

On the fourth day returning to Wolf Town from the Valley of Saint Giz, around noon.

In the army camp, Winters was sawing wood.

He was shirtless but wore a pair of gloves, which looked rather comical.

But he had to wear gloves; working without them would cause blisters—this was Winters's labor experience.

He had mastered the trick of sawing wood, pushing lightly forward and pulling back with force.

Winters's arms moved back and forth mechanically, as wood chips "swhoosh" fell down, and nobody around him could keep pace with his speed—not even two together.

Erhulan had taken great pains to put a little flesh on him, and now it was rapidly disappearing again.

Compared to when he had just left the academy two years ago, his figure hadn't changed much, had even slimmed down a bit, but his muscle lines had become more even and distinct.

Pierre rode into the camp and spotted the Centurion amidst the busy workers at a glance.

He quietly waited until Winters finished his current task before speaking, "My mother invites you to have dinner at our home."

Winters took off his gloves, smiling as he replied, "Sure, but I have to change my trousers first."

Winters was wearing a pair of old, rough cloth trousers for work, already soaked with sweat, unrecognizable in their original color.

"Scarlett also asked me to take your measurements, she wants to make you some clothes."

Winters shook his head with a smile, walked over to the bucket, and lifted it to drink heartily from the brackish water, "glug glug."

Just drinking it wasn't satisfying enough; he poured the remaining water in the bucket over his head.

"Hoo!" Winters wiped his face and, laughing, splashed Pierre with water, "Nothing is more comfortable than drinking water heartily after finishing work."

Pierre wiped the water droplets off his face, helpless.

Winters grabbed his shirt, "Samukin! Tamas!"

"Yes!"

"I'm leaving this to you two!"

"Yes!"

"Let's go!" Winters called to Pierre, "Let's check on the blacksmith."

The army camp in Wolf Town was directly opposite the old church, right next to the town square.

The camp at the moment resembled a busy construction site, with militiamen and labor convicts everywhere working.

The seventy-odd labor convicts from before had received special pardons from Winters; the current laborers were the thirty-odd accomplices from Saint Giz Town.

Wolf Town was rich in forest resources, without a shortage of wood.

Winters did not lack manpower; he had many "slaves"—although they were nominally convict laborers.

He could neither release the prisoners nor wantonly execute them, nor could he afford to feed them for nothing.

Winters's solution was to provide food and shelter for the prisoners, in exchange for their labor and loss of personal freedom.

In name, they were convict laborers, but in essence, they were slaves—at least they still had their lives.

With enough manpower and resources, all Winters lacked were food and tools.

That's why the first person Winters thought of was the old blacksmith, Misha.

Misha had become crippled in one leg during service and was not part of the draft, thus he became one of the few remaining able-bodied men in Dusa Village.

Winters personally sought out Misha, asking him to come out of retirement.

The rubble of the forge had been cleaned up, and any usable tools had been collected.

A new wooden hut was swiftly rebuilt on the original site, and the extinguished forge was rekindled with flames.

The young blacksmith Carlos took over his brother's position, assisting old Misha.

As the pleasant "ding ding dang dang" of hammering resonated, steel swords were forged into axes, saws, and heavy ploughs, while lower quality ironware was made into nails.

Anyone who witnessed this scene could deeply understand why the blacksmith held an important place in rural society.

Because human civilization needs tools, and tools cannot exist without blacksmiths.

The old and young blacksmiths, busy from sunrise till late at night, still couldn't produce enough tools to meet the demand.

That's why the bricklaying brothers were assigned by Winters to assist Misha.

In Winters's view, it seemed a waste to have craftsmen with skills working the fields, but since he didn't need bricks at the moment, he reluctantly had the bricklaying brothers work as junior smiths.

The remaining displaced people were working hard to clear the land, preparing for the sowing of winter wheat at the end of September.

All the draft animals Winters had, except for the warhorses, were given to them.

Steel ploughs turned furrows into the compacted earth, while rows of wooden houses sprung up like mushrooms after rain.

Wolf Town was being reborn from the ruins, gradually regaining its vitality.

All of these accomplishments filled Winters with genuine pride and joy.

He was no longer merely a monster capable of destruction, slaughter, and devastation; he had become a builder and creator.

But at the same time, all of these accomplishments filled him with worry and fear.

He had set up double-mounted scouts on the road to Revodan, and dispatched three rounds of scouting cavalry to Revodan.

Wolf Town was too secluded; no matter how hard Winters tried, the information he got from the outside world was severely limited.

He was even considering whether to make a trip to Revodan himself.

But right now, another matter occupied his mind.

"Ah, sawing wood by hand, when will it ever end?" Winters complained to Pierre, "The efficiency is too low."

Pierre, leading a horse next to Winters, suddenly countered, "Didn't you say there's nothing more comfortable than drinking cold water after hard work?"