Fourth Continent, Rising Wind Season, Autumn – Tili Wolf Festival

(Tili: Vermilion orange, crimson-orange color, also refers to armed personnel, crimson riders. Nowadays officials wear crimson garments, the legacy color of ancient military attire.—”Spring Offices·Attire Regulations Commentary”)

The ninth year of the Rising Wind Season, this continent had passed through the brightest period of the ‘Blazing Sun’. The vitality carried in the wind made all things grow. Over several years, animals in the mountain forests multiplied greatly. Wolf packs chasing food bathed in the forest winds, growing stronger due to abundant food. They no longer disguised themselves or hid. After absorbing the vitality of the ‘Blazing Sun’ aspect, their gray-maned fur dyed orange-yellow and crimson-red, becoming more fierce and arrogant.

A gentle breeze brushed through the forest. A pale yellow leaf tinged with red slowly drifted down from a branch, landing on the head of a girl beneath the tree.

The dry, hard edge of the leaf scraped against that snow-white, smooth long hair, then slid down with the wind and hair strands, falling onto the shaded forest floor covered with dead leaves.

A girl was confronting a vicious wolf.

Sylutia was currently watching the crimson-orange vicious wolf emitting low growls with a tense expression. One hand twisted at her skirt side, while the other trembled slightly in the air. The corner of her eye desperately searched for anything usable around her.

Anything would do, a branch or a stick—at least it would be better than facing this vicious wolf empty-handed.

She couldn’t remember why the previous segment of her memory was sitting on a bus returning to her hometown, and the next moment she woke up in this uninhabited forest. After walking for an hour without finding any trace of human habitation, if everything before her and around her wasn’t so real, she would suspect she was dreaming.

“Grr…” The low sound came again.

Baring the corners of its mouth, the red wolf revealed its interlocking fangs and bright red gums. The crimson-orange mane on its back slightly bristled. Its front body lowered, those triangular eyes fixed on this silver-haired girl, as if assessing the strength of its opponent. As a vicious wolf tainted with the ‘Blazing Sun’ aspect, it had gradually transcended ordinary beasts, possessing some intelligence.

Eat her!

The red wolf moved. The girl barely saw how it leaped, but when the wolf’s head was only half a meter away, she still reacted.

Turning her body sideways, right hand blocking in front of her chest, when the red wolf leaped into the air, those slender fingers in her sleeve deftly rested on the wolf’s head, the ring finger precisely pressing on the wolf’s eyeball. The stiff eyelashes and moist eyeball made the girl’s heart tighten, but she suppressed the fear in her heart, pushing the wolf’s head away, making it miss to her right side.

Turning her body sideways, right hand blocking in front of her chest, when the red wolf leaped into the air, those slender fingers in her sleeve deftly rested on the wolf’s head, the ring finger precisely pressing on the wolf’s eyeball. The stiff eyelashes and moist eyeball made the girl’s heart tighten, but she suppressed the fear in her heart, pushing the wolf’s head away, making it miss its target to her right side.

Having fallen to the ground while grabbing the branch, Sylutia had no time to get up. She could only retract her calves as much as possible to prevent being bitten by the wolf.

Failing to bite its target, only gnawing on the girl’s skirt hem, the red wolf released its mouth and, full of ferocious glare, pounced again at Sylutia’s throat. Sylutia then extended the tightly held dry wooden branch, aiming at the opened wolf mouth, thrusting it inside.

The rough bark of the wooden branch inserted into the soft throat, making the red wolf feel a strong urge to vomit. It retracted its body, shaking its wolf head, trying to throw the branch out of its throat.

Violent struggling and shaking transmitted from the branch in her hand. Sylutia knew she absolutely couldn’t let the red wolf shake the branch out at this moment. One hand tightly gripped the lower end of the branch inserted into the wolf’s mouth, while the other hand grabbed the fur on the red wolf’s back neck, trying to hold it steady.

To prevent the red wolf from breaking free, she almost pinned it down with both knees. Several times it nearly broke free, and the skirt beneath her was constantly torn by the wolf’s claws, leaving burning scratches on her legs through the skirt fabric.

To prevent the red wolf from breaking free, she almost pinned it down with both knees. Several times it nearly broke free, and the skirt beneath her was constantly torn by the wolf’s claws, leaving burning scratch marks on her legs through the skirt fabric.

Not knowing how many minutes had passed, just when Sylutia felt she couldn’t hold on any longer, the struggling of the red wolf beneath her finally slowly weakened. Bloody froth overflowed from the wolf’s mouth, but the girl still wasn’t reassured, continuing to thrust the branch deeper into the red wolf’s throat. She kept going until the other stopped moving entirely, with no heartbeat, finally allowing her mind to relax slightly, calming down a bit.

Orange-yellow, crimson-red, and a little black. Sylutia observed the fur of the dead vicious wolf beneath her feet. Neither its appearance nor color had she ever seen before. In her memory, it seemed there were orange-red furred wolves in the Americas, but their appearance was completely different from the one before her.

Her fingers slightly touched the stiff fur, transmitting an extremely subtle burning sensation. The closer to the hair roots, the weaker it felt, while at the hair tips the sensation was strongest, even having a faint prickly feeling.

Her fingers slightly touched the stiff fur, transmitting an extremely subtle burning sensation. The closer to the hair roots, the weaker it felt, while at the hair tips the sensation was strongest, even having a faint prickling feeling.

During the mid-to-late Rising Wind Season, wolf-type beasts become tainted with the power of the ‘Blazing Sun’ aspect, their fur turning orange-yellow, becoming ‘Tili Wolves’. When their entire fur turns flame-like crimson-red, they become first-tier ‘Red Wolves’. Fierce ‘Red Wolves’ bring great harm to village residents and livestock, to the extent that images of such creatures often appear in fairy tale books.

Every season at this time, hunters organize to enter mountain forests in advance for hunting. Some nobles also love this activity, hanging the ‘Tili Wolf’ pelts obtained from hunting in their living rooms as symbols of their honor and bravery. This activity eventually became a tradition in many places, and this season is recorded as the ‘Tili Wolf Festival’.

Note: The fur of ‘Tili Wolves’ and ‘Red Wolves’ contains trace amounts of ‘Blazing Sun’ aspect power, giving them quite good warmth retention effects in winter. If preserved until the Sinking Mist Season, their value further increases.

It seemed there were many things she needed to figure out.

Slowly standing up, she looked around, then reached out to try dragging the wolf corpse beneath her. Its heaviness made her abandon the idea of taking it with her.

After thinking for a few seconds, Sylutia decided to continue walking out of the forest. She didn’t know if the dead wolf corpse would attract other creatures, but since she couldn’t utilize it now, she could only distance herself from it.

After resting a few minutes, Sylutia straightened her messy dress and hair, continuing along the shaded forest path. Judging by the sun’s position, the time should be around 3-4 PM, past the hottest part of the day.

Not knowing where to find food and a place to spend the night, the girl touched her stomach, feeling not hungry yet.

This body was clearly not her previous appearance, but moving felt completely natural, as if she was supposed to be like this. Walking in the forest shade, Sylutia slowly organized her memories.

She remembered clearly—this time it was because she received a call from her hometown, so she applied for annual leave from her company to return home.

Boarding the speeding high-speed train, she left the big city where she had worked for several years, heading toward her long-unvisited hometown. Since graduating high school, going to another city for university, then participating in work after graduation, days returning to her hometown were few and far between, probably only during New Year.

Speaking of which, it had been a long time since she walked in mountain forests like now. The girl looked up, one hand lightly shielding her forehead, gazing at the pale green and yellow-tinged leaves above.

Every summer vacation during childhood, she would go to her grandparents’ place to play for long periods. Her grandparents didn’t live in the city proper but in a very remote mountain village. There were rolling emerald mountains and small rivers, along with various animals.

Grandpa raised a flock of goats, letting them graze on the mountains every day. Young Sylutia would follow with several cousins. Everything in the mountain forests felt incredibly fresh to her, having grown up in the city.

Chestnuts like spiky balls yet split open, bright red snake berries by mountain paths that looked very appetizing, tumor-like clustered green berries, occasional peculiar bird calls, and owls on trees hard to distinguish like fallen leaves—these things existed like vivid colors in impoverished life, making young Sylutia especially happy.

Dragonflies, fireflies, caterpillars, butterflies, even snakes in firewood piles—these things from books, she first saw them all in her hometown mountain village. Going there every summer vacation became her happiest time.

Sitting on the bus to her hometown, leaning against the window, recalling past times, sunlight outside the vehicle filtered through roadside forest shade falling on her, making her vision momentarily somewhat hazy and blurred.

Crucian carp were relatively small fish, the only fish she ever caught as a child. Back then there were only bamboo poles, fishing line, and hooks, far from today’s numerous equipment.

After catching her first crucian carp, she and several older cousins gathered around the bucket, unsure how to handle it. Release it back into the water? None of the children were willing to give up the hard-won fish. But eating it—this fish didn’t seem to have much meat.

The silvery fish scales felt somewhat slippery in hand, showing slight iridescent reflection against the sun. A row of small dots along the midline on both sides of the fish body made the children especially curious.

Finally, an aunt helped, processing the fish they caught and making fish soup.

“Pity Grandpa didn’t get to eat any…” The girl recalled the scene from when she was ten, sighing with some regret.

After that fishing trip, Grandpa heard about it and smiled, saying he didn’t get to eat any, asking when they would catch another for him. She and her older cousins readily agreed, but afterwards adults, afraid the children might drown while playing in water, never let them near the river again.

Later this matter slowly faded from memory, until several days ago when she received the call learning of Grandpa’s passing, then embarking on the return journey.

…

Not knowing if she could return to her former world, perhaps even if she returned there, it would be long, long afterwards. But she still somewhat missed that hometown in her memories, and those beautiful memories that warmed her entire childhood.

Hands lightly spread, maintaining balance, the girl’s toes lightly stepped on stones concealed by withered leaves, heading downhill. After many years, that familiarity with mountain terrain returned to her heart, allowing her to easily pass through rugged slopes and bushes, moving through layers of forest shade.

Thus, until just before sunset, after crossing one last small hill slope, she saw distant wispy cooking smoke rising.

A field-surrounded, tranquil and rustic medieval village appeared in view.

There were no familiar power poles, no smooth cement roads, only houses built of stone and rough wood. Rustic windmills stood slowly turning in wheat fields. Piles of straw were tied and placed in fields and plains.

Shouldn’t it be receiving Grandpa’s letter, then returning home to inherit fields and pastures, living a leisurely rural life far from work—that kind of script?

The situation really took a sharp turn for the worse, the girl complained slightly in her heart, then walked toward the village at the mountain’s base.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep