Chapter 28
Chapter 28
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 28
Chapter Title: Quiet After Violence
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After a short thirty-minute nap that shook off his mental fatigue, Hwan-in stepped out of the cave and began gathering materials to build a rocket-stove-style smoker.
He'd learned this through trial and error while repeatedly crafting smokers and securing soul orbs for battle, but ever since gaining the ability to handle souls, his resistance to physical fatigue had become astonishingly high.
Most fatigue was a mental illusion born from exhaustion, and even a brief rest with eyes closed was enough to keep him going strong for half a day.
That was why he'd been able to stay perfectly fine for over a fortnight, getting by on power naps through the night.
'Rest can wait until the smoker's done.'
Once he started the full smoking process, he'd have time to spare.
Kwak! Kwak kwak!
Fwump! Flap flap!
Hwan-in, who had been digging a straight trench from the low points in the slightly uneven ground, looked up at the night sky at the sound of Emergency Ration's furious cries and flapping wings.
"...?"
Emergency Ration was angrily chasing off a bird he'd never seen before.
The bird getting scolded seemed to be a nocturnal flier that had swooped in for the meat drying naturally.
Peep! Pee-long! Pee-ro-long!
Squawk!!
Feathers flying from savage beak and talon pecks, the bird finally fled helter-skelter toward the eastern Twin Mountains, with Emergency Ration hot on its tail until near the slopes, then elegantly wheeling back as if granting mercy.
Hwan-in wondered if Emergency Ration had always been that fierce, then refocused on his task.
He stacked flat stones found by the riverbank around the T-shaped trench he'd dug.
After building a stone foundation with the flats, he dragged over several thigh-thick logs, stripped the bark with his stone axe, squared off the ends straight, and stacked them atop the stones like building a log cabin until the firebox began taking shape.
"Hm..."
Arms crossed, pondering the smoker's mechanics, Hwan-in extended the distance from the firebox entrance—where flames would send up smoke—to the chimney outlet to about a meter.
This way, the smoke would cool as it traveled from firebox to chimney, coating the meat hung inside and preventing bacterial growth.
Then he cut logs into even lengths and stacked them into a rectangular chimney shape, reaching about seventy centimeters high.
Four hours total so far.
'With greater strength and stamina, my work speed is ridiculously fast.'
If he'd done this right after crash-landing in this jungle world, it would've taken a full day.
Finally, to seal the smoker's gaps, he mixed the dirt dug up for the foundation with water, kneading it into mud.
Since he'd sprinkled just shy of enough water using a crude wooden bowl, it had the consistency of stiff clay.
"..."
Looking at it, he figured it wasn't enough, so he dug up more nearby soil to supplement. With dozens of kilograms of mud, he meticulously sealed every crevice.
Now to light a fire and check the smoke flow.
Igniting the firebox entrance, the slight angle drew smoke inward to vent through the chimney.
Some leaked through gaps, but reinforcing those perfected the rocket-stove smoker.
Current time: 3:20 a.m. Five hours since starting the tent smoker, with about two hours left on the soul orbs' duration.
Time to head out hunting.
Before that, intending to top up the tent smoker's wood chips, Hwan-in approached the tent and recoiled at the sour tang assaulting his nose, roughly tearing off one side.
Riiip!
"..."
No need to check the meat. The sour rot stench dominated even the faint smoke aroma.
"Temperature was the issue after all."
Both smokers had failed for similar reasons: fire heat and distance.
The meat had turned stick-hard, but its color screamed "eat and die" in vivid crimson.
'Red's probably poison-related.'
Anyway, the naturally drying meat's color was a healthy white, so heat spoilage was certain.
The rocket stove used cold-smoking, so hot-smoking with a roaring fire was next—but Hwan-in had no desire to try again.
'If even the rocket stove fails, I'll abandon crossing the steppe climate zone and stick to forest and mountains.'
He buried the meat and dismantled the tent, tossing it haphazardly near the cliff.
After scrubbing his hands clean, he stuffed moderately dry meat chunks into the rocket stove's chimney, then covered it with the lid he'd prepared.
Not much of a lid—just long thin sticks woven like burlap, topped with leafy branches.
Anyway, watching smoke wisping through the lid gaps, he hoped for success this time—
Kwak. Kwak-gwak. Kweok.
With a fwump of wings, Emergency Ration alighted on Hwan-in's shoulder, cheeping urgently in his ear like it had spotted something vital.
"Enemy? Which way?"
Kweet!
Emergency Ration craned its neck one way; Hwan-in followed its gaze and spotted something wriggling far downriver at the bend.
Focusing, Soul Vision unfurled, gray-toning the world—and there, pale white fitting the grayscale writhed by the bank.
Spear and staff in hand, he waited; soon faint pheasant-like barks and splashing reached him.
Nothing odd. The landseals were migrating upriver, which pierced the Twin Mountains' cliffs.
Moments later, a hefty lead landseal entered the cliff stretch, startled at the sight of Hwan-in, freezing like a guilty pup stealing glances.
Ku... kwok. Kwoong kwoong.
Seeming to give up, it turned with a flap and retreated to the group.
Soon the pack buzzed with uneasy grunts.
'Landseals are smart too.'
Sending scouts ahead, or the scout bolting at serious threat.
Their urgent huddle screamed intelligence rivaling humans.
About twenty landseals clustered, murmuring—but Hwan-in stayed calm.
Warm Ki fully restored, soul orbs at peak average grade lately.
He knew their tactics, tech. In a fight, he'd mix attacks and retreats, confidently bagging five or six.
More would risk heavy wounds or death here. But safely picking off four, retreating, absorbing orbs, repeat—it'd take time, but wipe them out.
"..."
Still, no need to pick a fight.
He knew plans rarely went smoothly.
Especially not numerical inferiority.
Risking life to refill ten hours on orbs and fill them all with landseal souls? Stupid.
Waiting to see their move, Hwan-in's eyes gleamed as three detached and approached.
'Emissaries.'
Clearly wary, cautious advance screamed peace envoys.
He hadn't expected such smarts—trap? He gripped his staff, ready to slaughter the trio and flee if needed—
Then something unexpected.
Kwoong. Kwoong.
"...?"
Halting at a safe distance, only one—the largest, with a gaping wound—advanced.
Three rents exposing raw red flesh past fat; blood trailed into the river with each step.
Reaching Hwan-in, it slumped before him, peeking up; the other two blinked huge eyes at him.
Hwan-in belatedly got it.
'A sacrifice.'
Their gesture: toll of a dying kin, let the rest pass.
Landseals hadn't chosen lightly.
High IQ spotted this valley as Hwan-in's turf from river traces.
Day's battle cost 30% force; remaining 70% unrestored.
Weighing his shown prowess, they'd concluded confrontation risked total annihilation.
They sought minimal-loss option.
Had he seemed wounded or oblivious, softer negotiations—but battle-ready, water-dependent landseals had two choices:
Fight to extinction. Or offer sacrifice for passage.
Kwok....... Kwok kwok.
As Hwan-in eyed the prostrate sacrifice, the other two whimpered anxiously.
"..."
Hwan-in weighed options for max benefit.
Honestly, even as tribute, it didn't tempt.
No food shortage; one extra orb changed nothing—still hunt.
Snuuuff—sweet aroma. From the landseal's blood.
'Beasts gathered lured by this scent.'
Curious why beasts risked life for this meat, but Hwan-in indifferent to gourmet joys.
'Letting them pass won't make 'em cocky... They remember us enough for talks, so smart.'
Decision made, he stepped back three paces, sweeping staff right-to-left: go on.
Kwor? Kwok?
"Take your kin too."
The pair hesitated, wriggled, then hauled the wounded back.
Glancing back repeatedly—wary even reading intent. Curious.
Reunited pack buzzed anew, but Hwan-in perched on a riverside rock away from the flow; only then did they creep forward cautiously.
Kwoong. Kwok.
Kwok kwok.
Twenty landseals, half-sized pups amid—should be noisy, but they moved gingerly, avoiding provocation.
'Upstream leads to Great Lake, then. Rainy/dry seasons divide this vast forest.'
Split seasons explained desperate war-march.
Dry encroaching, waters receding.
By then, pack nearly cleared the valley; Hwan-in rose for hunt as the bulkiest—wrinkled hide, patchy white—splashed over.
Eldest of the group, by looks. No hostility, so Hwan-in sat watching.
It approached, gulped-throated something out with a kwoong, and returned.
"...?"
Pack vanishing into gray dusk; Hwan-in poked the slimy glob left by the elder with a stick—something hard clunked.
Washing it riverside revealed a pearl-hued stone, fist-half size.
No ordinary rock. Holding it smoothed his inner Warm Ki and Cold Ki flow.
Effects unknown, but surely helpful.
And rare.
"..."
Satisfied with his choice's reward, Hwan-in pocketed the pearl stone and set out hunting.
Dawn breaking, he roamed long—but beasts scarce.
Yesterday, hyena packs roamed foraging; tonight, none. Emergency Ration circled fruitlessly, then perched pretending nonchalance.
Seemed yesterday's melee culled numbers sharply.
'I alone took near twenty. With landseals' kills, over a hundred easy.'
Basin Seoul-sized, but 100+ carnivores? Population crashed.
Fresh bug from pouch snatched by beak; Emergency Ration kweoked happily, soared anew.
Hwan-in fretted, fiddling the pocketed pearl.
'No Spirit Possession halves combat power.'
Pondering solutions, scanning dark dawn basin via Soul Vision—Emergency Ration brought good news: beast spotted.
Kwak. Kwet.
"Good job."
Kwak!
Sensing distance from its point, Hwan-in climbed a nearby hill, peering the bird's flight direction.
Broad plain like steppe; horse herd huddled.
Grayscale vampire horses.
Usually whinnying mockingly away on sight—but early dawn, still sleepy: two sentries, eight lying or crouched.
'Or battle fatigue.'
Carnivorous "herbivores," unconcerned by raids.
Stealth from twice-possessed blue panther let him creep silently.
Luck: wind from herd, faint grass muffling steps.
Sentries there, but dawn-drowsy, vigilance lax.
Slipping behind one sentry, closing to sixty meters, Hwan-in invoked a landseal soul.