Seeing that Yuan Zhan was not among them, Yan Mo wondered if the Maple Clan intended to use Yuan Zhan as a final bargaining chip, in case he ultimately refused to leave the Black Forest or took actions that might harm the Maple Clan.
For this reason, he didn’t ask about it directly, choosing instead to pretend he was unaware of the Maple Clan’s intentions. He decided to wait until he had found a way to restore the twenty-eight warriors before inquiring about Yuan Zhan’s whereabouts.
This was a case of being too clever by half; sometimes, one really shouldn’t overthink things.
Meanwhile, the unfortunate Yuan Zhan had no idea that his Lord Priest had suddenly turned the tide and could save him without him having to struggle so hard. At that very moment, he was still battling his own body deep underground.
Yan Mo, for his part, had no idea that Yuan Zhan was locked in a fierce battle with himself; he was still waiting to see how Sama would restore those twenty-eight warriors.
Naza brought something over, bypassing Yan Mo, and handed it to Sama personally.
Sama motioned for Yan Mo to step back, treating him with extreme caution.
But Yan Mo wanted to see. He approached Sama, who pointed at him. “~You… stay back.~”
“~I just want to see what you’re doing. I’m worried about my people~” Yan Mo didn’t budge.
“~I said I could restore your people, and I will. This is my clan’s secret; I can’t let you see it~” Sama likely had no concept of underhanded tricks and spoke very bluntly.
Yan Mo thought of Yuan Zhan, who was still in the other’s hands, and the many other matters he would need their help with later, so he didn’t press the issue further.
Constantly threatening others with force wasn’t right either. Yan Mo placed himself in the other’s shoes. If he were in their position and constantly threatened like this, even if he didn’t go so far as to destroy everything, he certainly wouldn’t let the other party off easily.
Although Sama said he wouldn’t let him watch, there really wasn’t any secrecy to its actions. He made no attempt to hide anything. Right in front of Yan Mo, he stuffed black seed-like objects one by one into the mouths of the twenty-eight warriors.
Is that all it takes? If that’s really all it takes… Yan Mo’s greed suddenly stirred; he wanted those so-called “death seeds.”
Sama extended a branch toward Naza. No sound passed between the two treemen, but Yan Mo sensed they were communicating.
Sama retreated to the small island in the pond, its body gradually sinking back into the great tree.
Naza and the Maple Clan then threw Bing and the others into the pond.
“~Won’t they drown like this?~”
No one paid him any mind.
Yan Mo rubbed his nose; it seemed the treemen had taken a disliking to him.
He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but ever since the twenty-eight warriors were thrown into the pond, the golden light in the valley grew even brighter, and even Sama’s true form at the center of the island glowed with a dazzling radiance.
Had Sama done something?
Yan Mo strained to look down into the depths of the pond, but the pond itself was intriguing. The water had distinct layers. The upper layer was crystal clear, but it turned emerald green in the middle, and nothing could be seen below that.
Naza walked over to Yan Mo’s side, though it didn’t get too close.
Yan Mo suspected it might have learned something from their Sama.
Naza spoke, clearly displeased, “~It will take time to restore your people. When the sun rises tomorrow, your people will be restored. In the meantime, you cannot stay here. Come with me.~”
Yan Mo crossed his arms and suddenly smiled. “Watch your tone, brother of the Maple Clan. Let me repeat: don’t forget that you were the ones who captured my people in the first place, and used their bodies and lives to nurture your own offspring. Helping me restore their vitality is only fair—unless you want me and my people to become your enemies.”
Before Naza could speak, the Maple Clan treemen who had been listening began to stir and make noise.
Naza let out a deep, drawn-out sound, and the treemen fell silent at once.
“~…You carry the bloodline of the Everlasting Clan. As long as you do not actively attack us, we will not become your enemies…~” Naza’s tone softened slightly.
Yan Mo took the opportunity to press his advantage; he just needed to make it clear that he wasn’t someone to be pushed around. “~ I respect your secrets and your way of life. If any other human tribe saw how you treat your own people, they would inevitably become sworn enemies of the Maple Clan. I think you understand that very well~”
“~Keep your promise, human. Follow me~”
A promise? Had he actually promised anything? He said he respected them—he hadn’t said he accepted it. But as long as the Maple Clan didn’t treat the people of the Jiuyuan Tribe as prey, he didn’t care how they raised their offspring—didn’t humans cut down trees and hunt wild beasts enough already? Everyone was just trying to survive.
Naza led him back along the original path, but halfway there, they turned onto a very narrow side path.
The further they went down this path, the lower the terrain became, and the darker it grew, while the moss glowing faintly on either side of the trail became increasingly conspicuous.
The sound of water came from ahead; it seemed an underground river was flowing beneath them.
Yan Mo looked up at the sky. The sliver of sky he’d seen before was no longer visible; above, there were only crisscrossing stalactites and protruding rock formations.
Naza seemed to be leading him into a network of underground caves.
“~You’ll stay here tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow to take you out~”
Yan Mo chuckled. “~This doesn’t exactly look like a place to entertain guests~”
“~We don’t want to be enemies with you, but you’re not a guest either~”
Yan Mo had discovered a major characteristic—or perhaps a flaw—of the Maple Clan: they spoke too honestly and directly, and even their actions reflected this. If they were humans, knowing they couldn’t afford to offend the other party, they wouldn’t exactly give the best treatment, but they certainly wouldn’t lock someone up in a dungeon like a prisoner. No one would want to alienate a powerful enemy just because of poor hospitality.
Yet Naza and Sama had directly translated their concerns into action. Because they were afraid of him, they locked him up to completely isolate him from the Maple Clan.
Naza left after dropping that line, walking away in a hurry.
Yan Mo was completely speechless. “Couldn’t you at least have left me some dry branches or straw to make a torch? It’s pitch black out here—I can barely even walk, you know?”
Was Yan Mo the type to just sit quietly in a dungeon-like place and wait for his master to come and release him? Especially since this cell didn’t even have a door to keep him in.
As soon as Naza left, Yan Mo followed suit and headed out, but after walking for only a short while, he realized… he’d been tricked!
Those cunning treemen!
Whether or not the treemen did it on purpose, it couldn’t change the fact that he was already lost!
He thought he was following the same path back out, so he made a point of following the glowing moss and memorized the direction Naza had taken. But as he walked, he noticed that the glowing moss around him was becoming more and more abundant—far more than when he first entered this underground cave. Only then did he realize he had taken a wrong turn.
But when he tried to retrace his steps, he found he couldn’t find the way back at all. This cave had many similar passages; take a wrong turn, and you’d never be able to get back on the right path.
Just great. He was pecked blind by the geese he’d been hunting all day long. He had assumed that someone’s straightforwardness meant honesty, that their directness meant they didn’t play mind games. And what was the result?
Yan Mo sneered inwardly and summoned the nearest bee guard.
Lost? As long as he had the bee guards with him, he could never get lost!
When he first encountered the treemen, he had already ordered his companions, Hong Chi and Fei Ci, to temporarily leave his side. The Man-Eating Bees had already reported to him that their venom was ineffective against those treemen; under those circumstances, keeping Hong Chi and Fei Ci with him would only increase their own casualties.
Although Hong Chi and Fei Ci had left him, they hadn’t flown far. The treemen had likely grown accustomed to the various creatures of the Black Forest; upon seeing a swarm of man-eating bees in their territory, they paid them no mind, as they posed no direct threat.
After issuing the summons, Yan Mo remained where he was, waiting for the bee guards to come and retrieve him.
It was only then that he had the leisure to take in his surroundings.
There was little to see in the cave. Without artificial light, the eerie, fantastical rock formations remained hidden; the glow of the underground moss was too faint to do them justice, barely illuminating the path beneath his feet.
The cave was extremely damp, and the sound of the underground river echoed constantly, yet he could find no sign of the river itself.
“Who are you?”
Yan Mo froze. He heard a voice echoing directly in his mind.
It was a normal speaking voice, not a song.
It had been a while since he’d had a normal conversation, and hearing this voice actually felt familiar to Yan Mo.
Was it an auditory hallucination?
“No human has ever been here before. You are human… Huh? You… child, come closer so I can take a look.”
Ding! Yan Mo’s eyes lit up. An underground cavern, a dark space, a mysterious voice, and that affectionate “child”—what did these all mean?
Yan Mo had been very busy in his previous life and rarely read novels, but anyone with even a passing familiarity with society would recognize this classic trope—the kind where protagonists in novels and movies stumble upon extraordinary adventures.
“Where are you? Who are you?” Yan Mo slowly turned around, his eyes wide as he scanned his surroundings.
Unfortunately, no matter how wide he opened his eyes, all he could make out were faint, shadowy outlines of rocks.
“I am the former Sama of the Maple Clan. Child, do not be afraid. I have come to take you away.” As the voice echoed in his mind, a vine as thick as a child’s arm silently coiled toward Yan Mo’s waist.
The moment the vine touched him, Yan Mo clenched his scalpel.
But the vine had barely brushed his skin before it snapped back.
At the same time, Yan Mo felt a violent jolt in his lower abdomen; the seed of the Immortal Tree seemed even more excited than seeing the young Sama.
Yan Mo clutched his stomach and furrowed his brow deeply.
“Old Sama?” Yan Mo asked tentatively.
After a moment, the voice sounded in his mind once more. “I never expected you to have brought the Fruit of Witchcraft—and that you could even make it grow directly within your body.”
“You know about the Fruit of Witchcraft?” Yan Mo was taken aback. It was only after hearing Yuan Zhan recount his and Hao’s encounter with the Bairi Tribe that he had deduced the fruit in his abdomen was most likely the very Fruit of Witchcraft coveted by both the Great Shaman of the Zhi Tribe and the Tribal Shaman of the Bairi Tribe.
The voice in his mind seemed to be laughing, “Of course I know. When I was young, over a dozen human tribes and the Divine Bloodline Tribes even waged a great war over it.”
“Divine Bloodline Tribes?”
The voice actually laughed, “That’s what you humans call the humanoid tribes—merfolk, dwarves, giants, and the insectoid race living underground. Some other intelligent beings of divine bloodline also joined that great war.”
“Old Sama, could you tell me about the Fruit of Witchcraft? I don’t know much about it.” Yan Mo found himself using honorifics involuntarily; that voice made him want to respect it from the bottom of his heart.
And at that moment, his thoughts shifted. He no longer believed the treemen intended to harm him. If they truly meant to harm him, why would they have brought him to where Old Sama was? Hmm, but perhaps they wanted Old Sama to keep an eye on him?
Crack. Crack. Yan Mo heard a sound like a whip lashing against the wall.
Crash. It was as if a large number of stones were tumbling down from the rock face.
“Come here, child, come here.” As the voice echoed, Yan Mo saw a cluster of light.
A soft, faintly yellow glow.
Yan Mo walked over without hesitation.
Crawling through a breach in the stone wall, Yan Mo saw a small pool of water. In the center of the pool lay a massive boulder, and growing from the boulder was a tiny sapling.
And that soft glow was emanating from the little sapling.
“Go to that boulder,” the voice instructed him.
“Is that you?” Yan Mo stood frozen in place.
“No, that’s a little treasure that can help keep the little creature in your belly a bit more well-behaved,” Old Sama chuckled again. “Seeing you reminds me of back when those human tribes used to bring seashells to trade for food with us. But what use did we have for seashells?”
“Have you been to the seaside?” Yan Mo felt a flicker of excitement.
“No, you’re wrong. I used to live by the sea, but then that great war…” Old Sama didn’t finish his sentence; instead, he urged Yan Mo again, “Sit on that rock. Don’t be afraid; it won’t harm you.”
“Where are you? Why do I feel like you’re speaking inside my mind? Why can you understand me even when I’m not singing?” Yan Mo slowly walked into the pond; the water wasn’t deep, reaching only to his knees.
“Hehe, since you’ve made it here, you must have met the children of my Maple Clan—and Little Sama, right?”
“Yes.”
“It seems you’ve frightened them, making them feel that your presence outside poses a threat to them. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have allowed a human to come here.” Old Sama chuckled. “Are they afraid you might think the Witch’s Fruit in your belly is a seed of the Tree of Immortality? Did that little fellow attack my Little Sama?”
“Yes.” Yan Mo admitted frankly, then immediately asked, “So it isn’t a seed of the Tree of Immortality?”
Old Sama, however, steered the conversation back to his original question: “I remember that at first, those humans couldn’t understand our words. Later, I realized they couldn’t understand songs. Then, eventually, they could understand, but we still couldn’t understand what humans were saying. This was very disadvantageous for our Maple Clan. I thought about it for a long time before figuring out the reason. Unfortunately, right now, I’m the only one who can converse with you without having to sing. I imagine you don’t want me to keep singing to you, do you? Haha!”
“Dad!”
Yan Mo thought he must have misheard Old Sama’s laughter as “Dad,” but just as he was about to touch the rock, a voice identical to Dudu’s rang out again: “Dad!”
