TN: As a reminder to new readers, the 1st to 24th chapters can be found on other translation sites linked on the novel page! 😀 I have no update schedule for when I can keep on translating the older chapters compared to the newer ones, but I’ll try my best to get to them whenever I’m free~
As they walked along, Yan Mo noticed that the tribe members, who had initially been staring at them with serious, somber expressions, would all suddenly adopt the strangest looks the moment they got a clear view of their appearance.
Yan Mo rolled his eyes—it must be because the way he and Yuan Zhan were standing together looked so odd!
At first, it was just a few naked children giggling and trailing behind them, but later on, even quite a few adults followed in their wake as they made their way toward the square.
Were they here to see them off?
Yan Mo had no idea how Yuan Zhan and the others had arranged the timing, but shortly after they reached the square, Lie and Meng arrived. Que Ya and Bing were the last arrivals, and right on Bing’s heels, Zheng also rushed over.
The crowd in the square kept growing. By the time Zheng—the tribe’s top warrior—arrived, there were nearly two hundred people, and the number showed no signs of slowing down.
Everyone kept staring at Yuan Zhan and his group. Que Ya and Bing stared wide-eyed at their companions who had arrived first.
Zheng stepped forward and bumped chests with everyone one by one. He didn’t say anything sentimental like “Be careful on the road,” but instead asked straight out, “Did you guys take down your tents too? Why is everyone carrying such a huge roll of fur?”
Que Ya and Bing looked at Yuan Zhan and the others in confusion, with Bing’s eyes brimming with sarcasm.
To everyone else, Yuan Zhan and his group did indeed look a bit comical at that moment. They held wooden spears in their right hands, each shouldered a large roll of fur on their left shoulder, and rested their left hands on top of the fur. The roll was so thick and long it looked as if it contained a grown adult—and it appeared incredibly heavy.
Bing curled his lip. No warrior would ever set out carrying so much stuff—it wasn’t just a burden, but it would also reduce the haul they could bring back. A true warrior would take whatever they needed from the wilderness; only a cowardly, useless fool would carry their entire home on their backs.
Although Yuan Zhan held a subtle leadership position among the group, in a situation like this, it was still Lie—the eldest and a third-rank warrior—who stepped forward to answer, “I told them to bring these hides. No one knows where the new salt lands are. We might not make it back before the winter snows fall, and we have no idea if it’s already started snowing far away. Freshly skinned hides can’t be tanned on the road; these old ones are much better at withstanding the cold.”
Zheng nodded in understanding. Winter in these parts arrived with devastating suddenness; often, one could run around bare-skinned one day, only to find the next day’s biting wind so fierce that it was impossible to stand outside. And when heavy snow fell, no one from any tribe would risk their life searching for food on the snowy plains—unless they were truly on the brink of starvation.
That bone-chilling cold was so intense that no amount of fur could protect you from it. The most terrifying thing was that if they couldn’t make it back to the tribe by nightfall, the Snow God would silently take many of their souls away to be enslaved, leaving only frozen corpses behind when they woke up in the morning.
No warrior from the tribe had ever ventured far in winter; Yuan Zhan and his companions were the first. Zheng knew this was the result of the chief’s compromise with the old priest, and he also knew that this journey would have to take place regardless of whether it was winter or spring. Yet, Zheng felt deeply uneasy about the old priest’s urgency and pressure.
He understood what the old priest was worried about, but he found his concerns utterly ridiculous.
The Heiyuan, Xirang, and Feisha tribes had long since become one. Separated, none of the tribes could have survived on their own; only by staying together could they resist attacks from neighboring tribes and reap greater harvests during the other three seasons.
“Lie, bring them back!” Zheng pounded his chest once more with his right fist.
Lie responded by pounding his own chest with his right fist.
Just then, the slaves in the crowd knelt en masse.
The chief and the old priest had arrived.
Supporting Yan Mo’s hips with one hand, Yuan Zhan cradled him like a child before setting the boy down on the ground, simultaneously putting down their luggage.
Yan Mo handed the wooden spear to him.
Yuan Zhan gripped the wooden spear tightly and stood up straight.
The others also set down their luggage and, holding their wooden spears, lined up alongside Yuan Zhan.
Lie and Bing, as third-rank warriors, were positioned at the far left of the formation, with Lie standing in the first position. Counting from the left, the order was Lie, Bing, Yuan Zhan, Da Shan, Diao, Meng, and Que Ya—a sequence that also implied the seven warriors’ ranking in combat prowess.
The crowd parted as the chief and the priest made their grand entrance.
All the slaves knelt, while the warriors clenched their right fists and pounded their left chests.
Yan Mo hid behind slaves like Cao Ting and Wen Sheng, trying his best to keep a low profile. While all the other slaves were kneeling, he was the only one sitting on the ground.
In fact, Yan Mo had secretly checked his injured leg that morning. The part that he and Yuan Zhan had severed had healed after two days and three nights, leaving only a deep red scar. It no longer hurt when he pressed his hand against it, and he could even take a couple of steps without any trouble. Still, he bandaged his injured leg and pretended he wasn’t fully healed yet.
“You are the tribe’s warriors!” The burly chief slammed his fist against his chest and roared.
Yuan Zhan and the others thrust their wooden spears into the ground in unison, letting out a low, collective shout, “Hoo!”
“The tribe awaits your return!”
“Hoo!” The wooden spears struck the ground in unison once more.
“The priest will bestow his blessings upon you.” As soon as the chief finished speaking, the old priest, Qiu Shi, stepped forward.
Yan Mo thought to himself, ‘Is that all? No further words of encouragement? No promises? No benefits offered to their loved ones? Was this chief just naturally taciturn, or were all tribal chiefs like this?’
At that moment, the sound of wooden spears pounding the ground grew more frequent, and the warriors in the square let out low, rumbling shouts.
Amid the warriors’ rhythmic, low shouts, the old priest walked toward Yuan Zhan and the others.
The old priest’s hair hung loose, covering most of his face. His face was painted with strange patterns, paired with dark, intricate tattoos, giving him a rather eerie and terrifying appearance.
The necklace hanging around the old priest’s neck was the most elaborate of all, cascading in layers across his chest and composed of all sorts of objects—animal teeth, human teeth, bones, stones, fruits, feathers, and more.
Perhaps each of these ornaments held its own meaning, but Yan Mo could not decipher them. The significance of a priest’s adornments varied from tribe to tribe, and since he was not a true disciple of a priest, such things were likely understood only by priests and their disciples.
The old priest did not hold a spear, but rather a wooden staff resembling a scepter. The pommel was shaped like a skull that appeared human, but there was an additional hole above the two eye sockets, right in the center of the brow, making it look as though the skull had three eyes.
The priest’s disciple, named Qiu Ning, held a stone cauldron in his hands; something was burning inside it, emitting a bluish smoke.
The old priest first circled Yuan Zhan and the other six with his staff in hand, pointing it at each of them in turn as he walked, all the while muttering incantations under his breath. Slaves were unworthy of his blessing and were naturally excluded from the ritual.
When he finished circling them, he approached Qiu Ning, bent down, and took a deep breath of the blue smoke.
Immediately, the old priest’s body began to tremble, his head shaking in circles at a strange, irregular rhythm.
Yan Mo glanced at the smoke, suspecting it contained hallucinogenic herbs. It was a pity he couldn’t get his hands on some—when used properly, certain hallucinogenic herbs could yield unexpected therapeutic effects. In the world he came from, there were still some relatively primitive tribes that used such herbs as anesthetics or painkillers.
Suddenly!
After a violent tremor, the old priest’s body went rigid.
He jerked his head up, his eyes staring blankly into the distance.
Yan Mo stole a glance and only then noticed that a symbol of an eye had been painted right in the center of the old priest’s forehead.
The symbol was remarkably lifelike, and combined with the old priest’s current expression, it seemed as though he wasn’t seeing things with his own eyes, but was gazing into the distance through a “third eye” on his forehead.
The old priest suddenly spread his arms wide and let out a growl resembling that of a wild beast.
Accompanied by the old priest’s roar, the surrounding warriors suddenly began to roar as well, and even Yuan Zhan and the others joined in the chorus.
‘Is this a way to ward off future evils and potential dangers with a roar?’ Yan Mo wondered. After all, whether human or beast, any creature with hearing fears loud noises. This method of bestowing blessings through a mighty roar was likely inspired by that very principle.
The old priest swung his staff with force, and the roar ceased. A moment later, he spoke in a strange yet very clear tone, “To the north, five days’ journey away, heavy snow has already fallen. To the south, at the foot of Mount Hasa, the short-statured Mountain Ant tribe is hunting. To the east, an Earth Dragon is battling a Manta Eagle, while the White Eagle tribe waits. To the west, in the distant lands… fire… a great fire! The gods have unleashed their wrath upon all living things—thick smoke, raging flames! The forest is burning—aaah!”
The old priest let out a blood-curdling scream, clutched his forehead, and collapsed to the ground in agony.
The priest’s disciple, Qiu Ning, immediately rushed forward, and many warriors looked on with concern.
The chief immediately ordered his men to carry the old priest back to his tent to rest.
Yan Mo’s gaping mouth finally closed.
At first, he’d thought the old priest was just pulling a trick, but as he listened further, he sensed something was off.
If he were merely putting on a show, he certainly wouldn’t have gone into such detail—especially since he’d described distant scenes in all four cardinal directions.
What did that mean?!
Good heavens! Could that old man really see that far away?
No wonder the old man acted the way he did—his skills in treating illnesses and injuries were nothing special, yet the chief and the tribe still treated him like a treasure.
So that’s it—he actually possessed such miraculous powers!
Yan Mo had studied medicine, and in his youth, he loved traveling far and wide, so he’d indeed encountered quite a few strange phenomena and medical cases. But he’d never believed in ghosts or gods—not even after his soul had been reincarnated into this world and he’d acquired a modification Guide.
He believed everything could be explained by science, including the strange events unfolding before his eyes.
If the old priest wasn’t lying, Yan Mo surmised that his remarkable ability to see into the distance likely stemmed from the pineal gland located just below his brow.
The human pineal gland was shrouded in mystery. Some studies even suggested that the pineal gland in modern humans had degenerated. So what function did it serve before it degenerated? Did the “third eye” found on ancient animal fossils excavated in his original world truly exist?
Yan Mo felt an itch in his hands, an itch in his heart—an unbearable itch all over his body.
With such a vivid, ready-made living specimen right in front of him, yet unable to rush forward to perform a detailed dissection and analysis, it was simply agonizing!
He wondered when the old priest would die. If only he could get news of it then—he’d surely do everything in his power to rush back, steal the old priest’s body, and perform an autopsy.
If only he could uncover the secrets of the pineal gland… Yan Mo gave himself a hard slap on the head. ‘Stop daydreaming—there’s no World Contribution to Medicine Award waiting for you here!’
Still, he really wanted to know—and this had nothing to do with winning an award. Having a living specimen right in front of him but being unable to touch it was as agonizing as a smoker staring at cigarettes in a store window, knowing he couldn’t reach them.
As Yan Mo drooled over the old priest’s retreating figure, the entire farewell ceremony came to an end. The seven warriors once again shouldered or picked up their packs, and the slaves all stood up to hoist the bundles from the ground.
Yuan Zhan walked over and scooped up the young slave with one hand.
Yan Mo obediently reached out to take the wooden spear; the luggage he was supposed to carry had been added to Yuan Zhan’s load, which was why Yuan Zhan’s thick bundle of furs was twice as bulky as anyone else’s.
The chief, who had intended to see the warriors off, couldn’t help but furrow his brow slightly when he saw that Yuan Zhan was actually leading the slave with the broken leg away with him.
Zheng also found it strange—in fact, everyone present found it weird.
It was normal for a warrior to take a slave along. Not only could a slave help with hunting, guarding the game, standing as night watch, and keeping the camp warm along the way, but if necessary, he could even be slaughtered for food. But taking a slave who couldn’t walk? Did he plan to eat him right there on the trail?
Yuan Zhan couldn’t care less what others thought. Not only was the little slave very useful, but even if he weren’t, he was his slave—and even if he were to eat him along the way, he certainly wouldn’t leave him behind to be taken by someone else.
The figures of the seven gradually faded into the distance as the chief and many members of the tribe watched them depart.
“Do you think they’ll find new salt lands?” the chief suddenly asked Zheng, who stood beside him.
Zheng looked at the group in the distance and answered honestly, “It’ll be very difficult.”
The chief nodded, turned around, and said, “Tell the whole tribe that winter is coming from the north. Have everyone hurry up and get ready to move into the caves.”
“Yes, sir!”
