Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 469: Chapter 75 Standing Before the Divine Arts Barrier

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Seeing the corpses dressed in the garb of a Heretic Religion, Winters grew even more certain of his earlier speculation:

The torrential downpour that nearly caused Sekler’s plans to collapse was not a natural phenomenon, but a spell, a spell of such magnitude that it was beyond imagination.

But he kept this thought to himself.

He was no longer the naive youngster eagerly demonstrating magic to Aike, keeping secrets was the first rule for spellcasters.

Gathered around the campfire, Winters counted a total of eight bodies.

All were dressed in clothing adorned with animal bones, blue stones, metals, and ribbons, their limbs twisted oddly, their expressions extremely agonized.

“Hiss,” “hiss,” the sound of ripping fabric echoed as the tent flaps were slashed open, the wind dispersing the tent’s smoke.

Jeska, Andre, and other military officers entered the tent with their men, momentarily struck dumb by the horrific scene inside.

With the flaps gone, the interior of the tent brightened, and Winters was able to make out more details hidden in the darkness:

Every inch of the tent’s carpet was covered in unfamiliar symbols, ritual vessels, and pennants similarly marked were strung together with fine rope, densely hanging from the tent walls.

“A Heretic ritual?” Colonel Jeska asked with a frown.

Winters nodded, “That seems likely.”

Xial, with sharp eyes, pointed to an area beside the fire and asked, “What’s that over there?”

Everyone turned to look where he pointed, and saw a golden plate placed on a blue stone slab in front of the fire.

The plate was filled with half-dried blood and also contained a dagger.

“That couldn’t be human blood, could it?” Andre suddenly felt a wave of nausea.

“Probably not…” Bard’s face also turned uneasy: “It could be from that blue horse outside.”

Winters walked over to Colonel Jeska and spoke softly, “Colonel, this place is probably strange, it’s best if everyone else leaves first.”

Jeska pondered for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

The militiamen were already reluctant to stay longer than necessary at the eerie, Heretic altar and hurriedly retreated outside the tent upon receiving the command.

“Xial!” Winters softly called to Xial, who was on his way out, “Bring Bell to me.”

Xial nodded and dashed off to find the young Hunter.

Only a few military officers remained inside the tent.

Andre looked around, the normally fearless bruiser suddenly felt his skin crawling with an inexplicable chill.

Wrapping his arms around himself and hunching his neck, he hummed, “Shall we leave too? Let’s not stay in this… huh? Winters! What are you doing?”

Winters, who was examining the corpses, replied without looking up, “We need to find out how they died, don’t we?”

The others watched as Winters examined one slightly stiff body from head to toe—though only through the clothes.

Andre swallowed hard and asked, “Find anything?”

“They’re indeed dead,” Winters responded, wiping his hands.

“No kidding!” Andre was on the verge of exploding, “I could see that!”

“Anything else?”

“That’s what’s strange—there are no other clues,” Winters said, his nose twitching slightly: “Not a single external injury.”

Andre inhaled sharply and took several unconscious steps back towards the tent entrance.

“No external injuries? Could they have been poisoned?” Mason also turned pale, looking at Colonel Jeska and asking, “Sir, do Herders still practice human sacrifices?”

Jeska gave a wry smile, “I’m not a Herder, how would I know.”

Concerning spellcasters, Winters didn’t reveal too much—he simply didn’t say anything and continued examining the other bodies.

Bard stepped back a few paces and observed one of the bodies, “Why do I feel like this man died suddenly while dancing?”

Only now did the officers realize: the “twisted, odd” posture of the corpses… really did resemble a certain dance.

“What sort of dance kills people?” Mason asked, frowning.

Winters, too, stepped back several paces, as Bard had, trying to view the eight bodies inside the tent from an overall perspective.

“No, this isn’t right!” Winters’s face suddenly changed dramatically.

“What’s not right?” The officers in the tent couldn’t grasp what he meant.

But Winters had already bolted out of the tent, shouting at his men, “Bell! Where’s Bell?”

“Here!” Xial came running over, panting, with the young Hunter in tow.

Winters grabbed the arm of the young Hunter, the force of his grip causing the boy to grimace in pain.

“Bell!” Winters asked urgently, “What’s the most important number to Herders?”

“Huh?” Bell was momentarily confused.

Winters’s impatience grew, “The biggest, the most auspicious, the most solemn number! The number used for rituals.”

“I remember it’s [three], for the offering of three sacrifices,” Bell tried hard to recall: “At the most solemn times, three of each sacrifice, that’s… [nine].”

Of course!

Winters dashed back into the tent, bellowing, “It’s not right! There’s someone missing!”

“What do you mean?” Andre was lost.

“Look at these people!” Winters pulled Andre all the way to the edge of the tent entrance, pointing to the bodies on the ground, “They’re not just standing anywhere! Their positions are patterned! This dance is missing someone! It’s missing a lead dancer! The lead dancer isn’t dead! Find him!”

Winters burst out of the tent, climbed to a high spot, and using a spell to amplify his voice, he shouted to all the militiamen, “Everyone search! Look for a Herder in strange attire! Dig three feet into the ground if you have to, but find him! No! Go and bring me every Herder in the city!”

Bell tiptoed into the tent, startled by the sight before him, he stammered, “Why… so many Priests… how did they die?”

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