The Man Without a name calmly held the Remington machine gun in his hands, analyzing it carefully.
Hui Cao, for her part, was now holding a small book in her hands with the inscribed title Storm-Destroying Fist.
Time passed among the desert dust, and two weeks went by in an instant.
—System, how does the modification on the machine gun work?—she said, taking some space while looking into the void.
"Modification: Improved Barrel for 3.38 bullets, reduced cooldown state, rare-grade revolver ammunition accepted internally, maximum 508 bullets."
Hui Cao reviewed the technique once more before throwing a punch into the air with all her strength.
Small abrasions appeared on the skin of her fist.
—It's not much, for the fist technique I saw back then—she said, letting out a sigh while glancing at The Man Without a name's back.
Throwing the book at his back, he caught it without looking.
—Hey, smelly boss, why don't you practice with that and see if it works?—she said with a light laugh.
—Ha, the Sioux have more strength in a spear than this little paper—he said, storing the machine gun in the tungsten ring.
Hui Cao lay back on the sand, her cowboy outfit still covered in dust. Even so, her face seemed far from the indifference she always carried.
—Are you seriously not going to tell me your name?—she asked while extending her hand toward the morning sun.
The Man Without a name glanced sideways and said—
—You just can't accept that I don't remember my name, can you?—he said with a small smile as he moved inside the cabin.
Inside, the frame of a bed had just been made in the back of a new room. The cabin, previously at least 200 meters wide, had expanded to about 300 meters in diameter in an instant.
Hui Cao's room was barely under construction, with armor on a stand similar to that of an imperial general. But the intricate details, such as the dragons moving across the shoulders like a perpetual illusion, gave an overwhelming sense of superiority.
Some red paper lamps illuminated the room, giving it a warm feeling.
Hui Cao, who followed him, jumped onto The Man Without a name's bed and said—
—Boss, when are you going to bring a mattress for the bed?—she said, lying on her back.
—Well, until I finish the contract with Jeremiah Blackwood, I'll wait. That spring mattress isn't cheap—he said, taking a box of mints with golden packaging from the nightstand.
Hui Cao waved her arms on the bed like a small child and asked—
—Come on, take me on one of your adventures. It's boring in here—she looked like a rag doll flailing on the bed.
—Ha, not if you still have that wolf-nettle mark on your leg and think it'll be easier outside—A bite-shaped mark resembling a wolf could be faintly seen on Hui Cao's calf.
—And besides, the system didn't allow it, so stay calm—he said.
"Two-Headed Wendigo Mark is at its maximum stage. Maximum rewards can be obtained from its hunt. Smith and Wesson Sniper Rifle recommended. Save the rest of Burnwood. Reward: 3 silver ingots."
The Man Without a name began moving, taking his hat and dusting it off.
—System, give me a mythical sawed-off shotgun and its respective silver ammunition. Also give me 21 silver bullets for the revolver, 20 Mitchell tonics, 20 swamp herb emulsions from the purple crocodile marsh, and equip me with instant-use items: Tungsten Bone Skull, Enhanced Strength Ring, Amaranth Legs, Jackal Heart at maximum—he said calmly as blue lights embedded themselves into his skull and arms.
"Effects applied. 23:59 hours remaining."
Taking a machete from beside the coal stove, he looked at Blackie, who stood with his saddle on, casting a judgmental look at Hui Cao.
—Alright, kid, see you later this afternoon or so. Practice calmly while I'm gone—The map appeared in The Man Without a name's hands as he quickly mounted Blackie.
Hui Cao simply waved goodbye and watched The Man Without a name disappear into the air as if he and his mount did not exist.
At the edge of the road to Burn Wood—
The Man Without a name rode forward with a serious expression through the dust. The entrance to Burn Wood was lonely and practically lifeless.
Small remains of bones were scattered in the sand leading toward the center of the town.
With machete in hand and a fixed gaze, he moved forward. With each step, nothing but sand surrounded him.
At one point, as if forced by something, he was thrown off Blackie's back, landing on his feet.
The horse nudged his back slightly, perhaps as encouragement.
The Man Without a name gently patted Blackie before parting ways.
Walking toward the center, he felt the gaze of eyes watching from closed windows, as if fear itself filled those homes.
After a few seconds, he noticed a flower shop destroyed from the inside, as if a hurricane had ravaged it.
Only a green dress remained, marked with human bite marks in some places.
The air felt slightly disturbed. The Man Without a name continued calmly.
Counting the seconds between his breaths and his steps, he found the difference.
Though the sun in the middle of the town seemed hidden behind dark clouds, there was still enough light to cast a faint shadow.
There, between the alley and his next step, the shadow of a hat was barely visible, along with another growing behind his back.
With a swift motion, he slashed his machete toward the figure in the alley while quickly grabbing the knife from his boot, piercing the throat of his pursuer.
He calmly looked toward the alley until he heard a dull sound and the attacker's head rolling along the path.
He then moved slowly to the other target, pulling out the knife after confirming death.
He stored the machete in the storage ring, cleaned his knife, and placed it back in his boot as usual. Taking a small breath, he continued his path, finally arriving at the town hall.
He looked at the person sitting in front of it, among a pile of empty cages at least two meters in size, moving strangely as if its movements did not belong to it.
—Wealth… isn't that what you want? Bring some tender ones, I want something sweeter—it said to some men in brown hats.
—That's why you're bandits, right?—it said, fixing its empty gaze on the men, who began to tremble.
—You will rule Burn Wood forever—it said with a pleasant smile, while to the man's ethereal eyes, a faint dark energy appeared.
The Man Without a name walked toward the center, ignoring the bandits at his sides.
Drawing his mythical revolver, he aimed directly at the forehead of the one who had once been a florist.
The shot rang out, but not as expected. As if the bullet hit gelatin, it barely moved, leaving only a dark hole in the middle of the man's skull.
The florist's body in that empty town, filled with skeletal remains, began to tremble.
From his head, his skull broke open again, revealing an endless, shattered void. From it emerged two deer antlers as white as marble.
His arms split apart, revealing two different animal hands from each.
His body cracked again and again as The Man Without a name loaded silver bullets into his revolver.
With a blow, the group of men was sent flying hundreds of meters, unable to understand what had happened.
The Wendigo, carrying the florist's body like an empty sack, looked at The Man Without a name as two faces formed from the ribs of the shell.
The florist's face resembled an abyss from which four red lights began to form and explode.
Coldly, the corpse shattered into pieces, revealing two skulls covering the creature's four eyes—one of a deer and one of a wolf.
Rotating among its limbs, it remained for a few seconds before disappearing into the air.
Without hesitation, The Man Without a name stored his revolver and drew the machete again.
The Wendigo formed out of nowhere, lashing three arms toward him and sending him flying into the town hall.
Breaking through the window, he saw people still inside cages—some dressed elegantly, and one he had seen on the train, holding a gun-ring.
The machete turned to dust instantly, as if darkness itself erased it.
Immediately recovering, he drew his revolver again, scanning his surroundings. Kicking into the mayor's office, he leapt out the window at high speed.
A two-headed Wendigo opened four pairs of jaws filled with human teeth just as he descended.
Glancing briefly, he twisted midair and fired at its head.
The creature sensed the danger. Despite trying to evade, the bullet grazed one of its antlers.
A scream of a thousand voices filled the air as one of its faces began to crack.
The Man Without a name rolled on the ground, pulled out his shotgun, loaded it with silver ammunition, and stored it again.
In an instant, the screams stopped, and as if the air shattered, a black claw struck his arm, sending him flying into a house.
He crashed through the wall, landing on a wooden table and breaking its legs.
A young couple in the corner trembled as they saw the bones of his arm exposed.
The Man Without a name took an emulsion from his inventory, applying it as his bones realigned.
In a second, he fired a shot above the couple. The darkness forming above their heads vanished.
Immediately, as if its rage could not be contained, the monster lunged at his hand.
As if thousands of nails attacked at once, sharp and varied, they tore through reality.
In an instant, his hand was shredded into pieces like a torn sponge. Gritting his teeth, he looked toward the revolver thrown across the house.
By instinct, he dodged a strike aimed at his head and the creature grabbed his arm.
The beast, with elongated legs and a wound where its second head once was, moved its remaining wolf head.
Thousands of teeth opened to consume his head, but in a swift motion, the sawed-off shotgun appeared in his hand.
—See you later, partner—the bullets tore through the beast's chest, leaving a massive hole.
It collapsed with a choked scream, crashing against the walls, threatening to bring the house down.
In the end, all the weight fell onto The Man Without a name.
He drank a Mitchell tonic, his hand regenerating quickly.
After fully recovering, he lifted the Wendigo's corpse and walked toward his revolver, retrieving it.
With a sigh, he grabbed one of the Wendigo's legs and began dragging it.
—Hunter, what do you plan to do?—a figure appeared at the hole in the house.
The Man Without a name looked at the figure, noticing a small feather by his ear.
—Unbreakable Eagle, if the Cheyenne tribe has a problem with me, they should answer to my name first—he said calmly while continuing to drag the corpse.
—I'm not here for you, respectable hunter. I want the real culprit behind this aberration—he said, removing his hat respectfully.
The Man Without a name looked at the couple behind him and said—
—Leave this place right now.
They did not hesitate and escaped through one of the house's windows.
—Many of them have never seen the truth of this world, don't you think, Cheyenne?—he said calmly as he dropped the Wendigo's arm.
—Call me Wind Seer. You know, we were about to call our best hunters from the alliance for this matter—he said calmly while looking The Man Without a name in the eyes.
—Alright, Wind Seer, let's talk to whoever has the most information about this matter—he said, cleaning the dark stains of Wendigo blood from his poncho.
They walked back to the town hall. In the cages, a faint reddish glow still shone, yet both men remained calm.
—Every few years we have to remind them why silver should not be touched anywhere—Wind Seer said, calmly touching the purple and reddish feather on his ear.
The cowboy nodded and simply walked inside the town hall. Looking again at the cages, there were smaller ones at the lower level.
Although The Man Without a name remained calm at the revelation, he could not ignore the grinding of Wind Seer's teeth.
Continuing his path, he finally saw the man with the gun-ring, who recognized him.
Even with fear in his heart, he remained calm until the top of the iron cage was torn off with one hand by The Man Without a name.
—Mike Treshold, I think I told you that disturbing a spirit beast's nest was your company's first mistake. This is your only chance to redeem yourself—he said, throwing the cage lid aside.
The Cheyenne looked at the man with controlled anger, yet his killing intent could not be contained even within a castle thousands of meters wide.
—Sir, it's not that… you see, I didn't know something like this would happen—Mike extended his hands. He looked quite worn, with dark circles under his eyes. On the tables of the town hall there were many canteens and canned food.
The Man Without a name grabbed him by the suit he still wore and spoke—
—Well, you don't know how lucky you are. You will be the first of the Wasichu who saw a Wendigo and was not killed by the government or the alliance since… what, three years ago?—he said to his companion.
—Yes, I think the last incident was three years ago. A Fire-Tailed Wendigo. There was practically no way to control the story—he said calmly.
—Good. Tell my friend everything you know, and don't forget details involving the government or the alliance… or there will be no need to speak—he said calmly, sitting Mike on a chair in the town hall.
Mike Treshold glanced briefly at the angry face of the Cheyenne, but his fear of The Man Without a name was greater.
—Alright, I am one of the workers from Masoner. I was in the company's first inspection regarding the silver stone—he raised his hand, trying to appear more trustworthy.
—I think there was a senator from the northern region who granted permission for this exploration—the words came out uncertain.
—Mike, Mike, Mike… names—said The Man Without a name, snapping his fingers.
—Edward… Edward Morris. Yes, he is the one who gave us the permits. There was also one of the Sioux natives—
In an instant, The Man Without a name's revolver pointed at Wind Seer's head without hesitation.
—Put the needles on the table before you lose your head—he said immediately, moving his revolver.
In an instant, bone needles clattered onto the table.
—How the hell do you know that?—said Wind Seer, looking at The Man Without a name with doubt.
—You're not old enough to know, boy. Mike Treshold, did you really see a Sioux at the place?—he said calmly.
—Yes, I saw him. He told us the place was safe, that it was an old abandoned field. With a government deal, this would have made Masoner the first company in the region. He said it was necessary to remove the stone—he said calmly, looking back in memory.
—The sample we took was for analysis. We had to take it to the capital and review it with other members of the alliance—he added more introspectively.
The cowboy clicked his tongue and spoke immediately to the Cheyenne with his ethereal eyes.
—Before the alliance was signed, the sons of the leaders of each of the great tribes were kidnapped to prevent the union. The son of the Sioux was different. Although he was returned to his father, he did not survive long after—he said calmly while looking at Mike.
—Your bosses did not trust them enough, and they did well. This must be the target of revenge from some elder of the tribe. If they had removed the stone, they would have been hunted by a very powerful spirit beast—he said, clearing his gaze calmly and lowering his weapon.
The Man Without a name remembered the name Jeremiah Blackwood in his mind, still waiting for information.
He took one of his cigarettes and said—
—Take him to the Apaches. Tell them Unbreakable Eagle wants no blood to be spilled. The Red Feathers have infiltrated. The alliance remains firm. This place must be erased or transferred to a member—he spoke in a firm tone as he left the room.
—What will you do with the aberration?—said Wind Seer, taking the needles and placing them into the compartment on his wrist.
—It's my prey, so it shouldn't matter to you. Tell the Cheyenne that if this is not fulfilled, they will hear my name across their lands—The Man Without a name jumped out of the window into the courtyard.
He fell onto the pile of cages, causing them to sink slightly. Getting down again, he walked through dust and sand until he reached the house.
Still empty, with the Wendigo's corpse bleeding dark blood, he lifted it onto his shoulder in an instant.
The figure of The Man Without a name walked among the surviving men and women of the disaster, who stared at nothing.
Wind Seer arrived instantly with Mike Treshold on a horse that looked like moonlight inscribed on its coat.
He clenched his teeth upon seeing the survivors of the massacre, then turned the horse around and disappeared into the night.
After he disappeared, with a simple command, the Wendigo vanished, leaving behind three hides, two vials, and four tendons tied like thread.
Mounting Blackie and returning home, he noticed something was not right.
Like a blow to his psyche, Nantan's words echoed. A wingless yellow serpent rose, with a man standing atop its head holding a compass that seemed to burn his hand.
The Remington machine gun fell to the ground, and The Man Without a name stepped down, looking at Hui Cao a few meters away with an expression of indescribable anger.
"Host, your rewards are ready."
—System, load rare 3.38 bullets into the Remington now—he whispered as his eyes finally met the enemy's.
—Who are you?—asked the former prince Jian Long, observing The Man Without a name's face with confusion.