At that moment, Yan Mo had no time to spare for Yuan Zhan. He gazed into the darkness and said as calmly as he could, “I know the name of this tree. It’s very important to my child.”
“You know?” Old Sama seemed surprised.
“The sapling of the Resurrection Tree, isn’t it?” Yan Mo clenched his fists.
The Resurrection Tree—there were records of it in his original world as well. Legend had it that it resembled a maple tree. One would take the heartwood or roots of the Resurrection Tree, boil them in a jade pot, then simmer the liquid until it became a thick, lacquer-like consistency. This would then be kneaded into pills and smoked over a fire, with its fragrance capable of reviving the dead.
Old Sama fell silent.
Yuan Zhan had regained much of his clarity by now. After confirming that Yan Mo was out of danger, he crawled onto the stone platform and laid down beside Yan Mo’s legs, his head level with the sapling. He closed his eyes and began practicing the Basic Training Method. The breathing techniques of the Basic Training Method did not require a specific posture. Once mastered, they could be performed in any position.
Yuan Zhan was desperate to regain his strength. As things stood, not only was he unable to protect his priest, but he would only become a burden to him.
With each breath, a faint, pleasant scent of plants drifted into his nostrils. This fresh, herbal fragrance instantly made his body feel much more comfortable. He even felt his recovery accelerating, which prompted him to shift his head slightly toward the source of the scent.
“I didn’t expect there to be a human who could recognize us.” Old Sama seemed deep in thought.
Yan Mo was stunned. Could it be that the entire Maple Clan were Reincarnation Trees? If that were true—if the records from his original world regarding Reincarnation Trees were accurate—then how much longer could the Maple Clan survive here if this information were to leak out?
Old Sama seemed to sense what Yan Mo was thinking. It spoke again, its voice calm. “Only the Samas of the Maple Clan can be called Reincarnation Trees.”
Yan Mo, who always assumed the worst of people, almost immediately understood what Old Sama was worried about. Although Yuan Zhan was here and had broken through to Level 5, he dared not underestimate this Old Sama who had lived for untold ages. Even if he could attack the Maple Clan using the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune within his abdomen, it would inevitably result in a mutually destructive outcome. Unless absolutely necessary, he had no desire to do so. Moreover, the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune likely still harbored the soul of his son, Dudu, which made him even more reluctant to use it recklessly.
“I mean you no harm,” Yan Mo said without batting an eye. He truly had no ill will, but merely wished to strike a deal with Old Sama.
“All my knowledge comes from the Ancestral God’s teachings in my dreams. Old Sama, I haven’t told you my name yet—I am Yan Mo, the current priest of the Jiuyuan Tribe. And the one lying beside me is none other than the chief of our Jiuyuan Tribe.”
“The Ancestral God! You…” Old Sama uttered a sound resembling a chant, overcome with astonishment.
“We have not come here to invade or attack, but to save lives. Do you know the Yuanji Tribe that lives on this land? They were under attack by a coalition of powerful tribes like the Zhi and the Bairi tribe, simply because the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune grows within their tribal territory.”
“So you’re here for the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune?” Old Sama’s voice seemed tinged with disappointment.
“No,” Yan Mo shook his head, “We didn’t know about the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune when we went to rescue them, and the people of the Yuanji tribe didn’t know such a remarkable thing grew on their own land either. We went to rescue them because of Yuan Zhan. Our Jiuyuan chief was originally a warrior of the Yuanji tribe.”
Yuan Zhan’s eyelids fluttered as he sensed someone watching him. Yet, his other senses were muddled—like he was caught in a state between sleep and wakefulness. He knew Yan Mo was speaking to someone outside, yet he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He wanted to listen closely, but his foggy consciousness refused to cooperate.
Was it that scent? Yuan Zhan struggled deep within his consciousness. His mind wanted to stay away from that scent, but his instincts kept pulling him back toward it.
Seeing that Yuan Zhan was sleeping soundly, Yan Mo withdrew his gaze and continued, “I obtained the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune by sheer coincidence. You mentioned the Human-Faced Kunpeng Clan earlier—do you know the mountain god, the Human-Faced Bird Jiufeng, who lives on Tiangui Mountain?”
“I know of it. A branch of the Human-Faced Kunpeng lineage likes to raise their young there. Has that little one grown up yet? When I first saw it, it was still just an egg,” Old Sama said with a faint chuckle.
“It has just emerged from hibernation,” Yan Mo replied, a natural, gentle smile spreading across his face as he spoke of Jiufeng. “It’s grown quite large now—its abilities rival those of a Level 5 or 6 Ability Warrior. It loves to pick on large animals, but it still has the temperament of a child. It’s quite mischievous.”
“It sounds like you’re quite familiar with him?” Old Sama’s voice returned to its previous affable tone. Having lived for so many centuries and encountered countless intelligent beings, even the most cunning of the Celestial Fox Clan seemed transparent to him. The tone the young man across from him used—as if a parent speaking of their own child—made him smile and sparked a genuine fondness for the youth deep within his heart.
“Hmm.” Yan Mo replied with a sigh of resignation. “In its eyes, I’m probably just one of its pets.”
“Heh.” Old Sama chuckled. If before its feelings toward Yan Mo had been merely neutral—its amiability stemming solely from the fact that the boy possessed the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune and its hope that he would raise the Child of Life properly—now it had genuinely developed a fondness for this young human boy.
“My Fruit of Shamanic Fortune was a gift from Jiufeng. It saw the fruit suddenly sprout from the ground and bear fruit during the time the sun vanished and reappeared, so it thought it must be something valuable and snatched it away from the humans who were trying to seize it. That little fellow likes to offer me treasures if he has anything good or has never seen it before.” Yan Mo didn’t notice how gentle his gaze had become.
“You know what happens next. After careful consideration, the chief of the Yuanji Tribe decided to abandon their original territory and follow us back to Jiuyuan. Guided by the Ancestral God in a dream, I discovered two paths leading to Jiuyuan: one required crossing the Black Forest, while the other—the route we’re currently taking—goes around the edge of the Black Forest. But when we reached this spot, we encountered you.”
“This is the guidance of the gods.” A thick, gnarled root that was twisted in a dragon-like shape emerged from the darkness. As it coiled by the water’s edge, it slowly transformed into the treeman figure Yan Mo had seen before. However, this treeman’s crown was not as vividly green. The light here was poor, so it appeared more of a purplish-black.
“Old Sama.” Yan Mo placed his right hand over his heart and bowed his head in respect to Old Sama.
Old Sama extended a branch resembling a scepter and gave Yan Mo a light tap in the air. “Child, since you now know this is a sapling of the Resurrection Tree and the future Sama of our clan, what do you intend to do?”
The guide’s detailed instructions would probably tell him what to do, but the +300 scum points were holding him back. Besides, was the guide really that easy to deal with? Since it had already demanded that he reduce his scum points by 100 million before Dudu could return to him, how could it possibly let him resurrect Dudu when he’d only reduced them by less than 50,000 points?
He didn’t believe for a second that the guide would let him exploit such a big loophole.
In fact, he felt that the appearance of this Fruit of Shamanic Fortune was like a carrot dangling in front of a donkey—its sole purpose was to boost his motivation and tempt him to work even harder at reducing his scum points.
First, offer him hope and just when he felt he couldn’t achieve his goal anymore, throw out a tangible temptation. Bit by bit, using both the stick and the carrot method would likely force him to “willingly” undergo “reformation.”
Perhaps raising the Child of Life was one of the necessary steps for him to get Dudu back?
Yan Mo suddenly realized that if he had escaped the Yuanji tribe much earlier, would he have missed out on the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune?
If he hadn’t agreed to help Yuan Zhan rescue people, would the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune have fallen into the hands of a priest from another tribe?
Likewise, if he hadn’t “kindly” brought the people of Yuanji back to Jiuyuan, he wouldn’t have reached the edge of the Black Forest, nor would he have entered it to meet Old Sama.
Had he not met Old Sama, he might have been tempted by the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune into raising Dudu the wrong way—and Dudu, whom he’d always believed to be a hallucination, might have been strangled to death by his own misguided parenting…!
At this thought, Yan Mo broke out in a cold sweat.
The guide was too damn cunning! If he hadn’t done a good deed, would it have taken him a very, very long time to meet Dudu? Perhaps after he’d burned through 100 million scum points, the guide would have casually dropped a line, “Your son is in the XX tribe, and he’s about to die.”
And if he wanted his son, he’d first have to go to war with that powerful tribe that possessed the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune. After seizing the fruit, he’d have to find a way to purify it, then search the entire world for an intelligent race who knew how to do so, and then… who knew how long it would take before he could transform the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune into the Child of Life.
But the most terrifying—and utterly unbearable—part was if the guide ever told him, “Your son was once right by your side, yet you killed him with your own hands. Now, if you want him back, you must destroy the current Fruit of Shamanic Fortune and wait for a new one to be born.”
Yan Mo’s mouth twitched. He felt that the guide was truly capable of doing something like this.
“Child?” Old Sama waited a long time for a response, assuming Yan Mo was engaged in an intense internal struggle.
Yan Mo looked up. “Do you have a way to bring my child back to life? If you can do it, I swear by the Ancestral God that as long as my bloodline endures, I will forever be the Maple Clan’s best friend. My descendants and I will protect the Maple Clan. I will also grant you three additional requests as long as I can do it and it does not violate the Ancestral God’s will; any condition is acceptable.”
This was undoubtedly the greatest promise Yan Mo had ever made in his two lifetimes.
Even Old Sama was moved. He could sense that the human boy before him was sincere.
“We do indeed have a way to bring the dead back to life,” Old Sama admitted. “However, we can only revive those who have died recently—within three days at most—and the body must be as intact and fresh as possible. Furthermore, if the revived person dies again, there will be no possibility of resurrection ever after.”
Yan Mo had already guessed as much—how could the guide possibly let him achieve his goal so easily? Though he’d anticipated this, he still couldn’t help but feel disappointed and dejected.
“You don’t need to be so upset.” Old Sama sensed his deep sorrow and couldn’t help but comfort him. “Your child’s situation is different from others’. Since the Ancestral God has hidden his soul within the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune, perhaps raising the Child of Life is your destiny. When the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune manifests, your child will return.”
Yan Mo regained his spirits. That was right—hope was right beside him, and this was already the best possible outcome.
“But there’s a problem. There are likely two consciousnesses within the Fruit of Shamanic Fortune, and one of them might harm my child.” Yan Mo looked at Old Sama with eyes full of longing. “Is there any way to eliminate that evil consciousness and leave only my child? That consciousness hid itself the moment it approached Little Sama. You have a way, don’t you?”
Old Sama did indeed have a way. “Are you willing to endure hardships for your child?”
“I am!” Yan Mo replied without hesitation.
Old Sama hesitated. “It will be agonizing, and I don’t know if it will succeed. You might lose your soul in endless torment.”
Oh, it’s fine. He’s already been abused by the guide to the point of becoming a masochist. Perhaps a little pain would actually be good for his health. Yan Mo smiled. “I’m willing to try. Tell me, Old Sama, what do you want me to do?”
“I need to plant one of my branches inside your body.”
