Chapter 155  

Shamans read the will of the heavens and advise people. In any tribe, the influence of a group of shamans was significant. Shamans, though not warriors, held a respected position among people.

Many shamans from various tribes accompanied this expedition. Shamans also acted as healers, and they were needed to tend to the wounded warriors.

"To cast a prediction, we need a live sacrifice."

"How do you propose we find a live sacrifice here?"

"If there's none, we'll do without. Samikan wants a ritual to ensure the warriors' safety."

"Hmph, crossing such a barren wasteland during the dry season. The heavens won't be pleased."

Various tribal shamans gathered and discussed loudly. Over twenty shamans argued about how to conduct the ritual and divination, as each tribe had slightly different traditions. It seemed like reaching a consensus was still difficult.

While there was a decisive leader, Samikan, among the tribal chiefs, the shamans didn't acknowledge each other. Each insisted on their way without yielding to others.

"Keke, whether we have a sacrifice or not doesn't matter."

The priest of the Blue Mist Tribe spoke. The Blue Mist Tribe had a custom of appointing those with six fingers as their shamans.

"Six-Fingered..."

Other priests and shamans looked at the Blue Mist priest. They all called him 'Six-Fingered.'

"Samikan simply wants divinations that boost the warriors' morale and courage."

The shamans glared at Six-Fingered.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I’m telling you that all we have to do is just make up any good fortune divination. Tell Samikan what he wants to hear."

"Propose a false divination? Are you mad? And you call yourself a representative shaman?"

Other priests were outraged. False divinations were unthinkable to them. They followed ancestral methods to interpret the will of the heavens. Shamans were a link between heaven and people. They took as much pride in their work as the warriors did.

"The shamans of the Blue Mist Tribe must all use such methods. How disappointing."

"False divinations? We can never do that."

The shamans murmured among themselves. Facing criticism, Six-Fingered just narrowed his eyes and smiled.

"Whether the divination is false or not, our warriors need hope. If there is evidence that the heavens support our expedition, even this split wasteland can be crossed with ease. What's a little lie compared to that?"

Some shamans nodded at Six-Fingered's words, but prideful priests and shamans felt repulsed.

"Speaking falsely of heaven's will is certainly going to lead to terrible consequences. You will be severely punished."

"Don’t you think being born into this world with six fingers is ‘punishment’ enough?"

Six-Fingered chuckled. The disagreement among the shamans persisted. For tribes like the Stone Axe, where shamans held great influence, false divinations were absurd.

Upon seeing the shamans in dispute, Urich strode over with a rather arrogant walk.

"Hey, oldies. Is the ritual far off? Want me to catch you a bird with my bow or something?"

"Chief Urich, good timing."

The Stone Axe shamans welcomed Urich. He rolled his eyes, observing the power struggle among the shamans.

In other tribes, shamans acted independently, and their actions often clashed with the chief’s. However, in the Blue Mist Tribe, the shaman and chief were always in agreement. It was because Samikan controlled his group of shamans.

Urich was a warrior who broke taboos. He wasn't favored by the shamans and priests of his tribe.

"Six-Fingered of the Blue Mist is proposing that we cast false divinations. Even if it benefits us now, it will bring disaster later. The heavens are not to be overlooked."

A Stone Axe priest whispered to Urich as if he was tattling. Urich leaned his chin on his hand, looking at Six-Fingered.

"Well, I crossed the Sky Mountains and am still fine."

"The former chief, Gizzle, paid the price with his death! His feet rotted in agony!"

"That was because his feet froze, not because of some random curse."

"Are you mocking the will of the heavens? Such an attitude could endanger the entire tribe, chief!"

The Stone Axe priest raised his voice. Urich casually listened and laughed. He was used to the shamans' criticism.

Urich wasn't afraid of heaven's wrath or curses. He had betrayed the gods and broken tribal taboos, yet his limbs were intact. If he was supposed to be punished by the divine, Urich should have died several times over.

Urich chuckled, and the opposing shamans grew more agitated.

"You're laughing now?"

"No, no. That’s not what I meant. Anyway, as Six-Fingered says, wouldn't it be better to have a good divination?"

"Even you, Chief Urich? Have you all lost your minds?"

Urich looked around at the shamans. He drew out his axe and spun it in his hand. The shamans flinched and stepped back.

"I'm not a shaman, but I can try to make a prediction. My brother Samikan... if a bad divination lowers the morale of our warriors, he will choose to behead a few shamans and offer their heads to the heavens in hopes of changing their will. And of course, I won't be able to stop him. Oh, I think I’m seeing the future. Is this what you shamans see?"

Urich spoke nonchalantly, but the shamans who were opposing him and Six-Fingered turned pale. It was a clear threat.

The face of the Stone Axe High Priest turned red.

"A chief is supposed to protect his tribespeople. Urich, as our chief, you should be on my side."

"I'd rather be hated by one priest than to have the warriors despair over a bad omen. You don't really like me anyway, do you? Enough talk. I've already conveyed my and Samikan's decision. Prepare the ritual as you see fit, wise shamans."

Urich clapped his hands and left the place.

The shamans who had initially opposed the false omen fell silent. If they didn't want to lose their heads, they had to agree with Six-Fingered's fake omen.

Six-Fingered plucked a gray hair from his beard, watching Urich walk away.

Six-Fingered, although a high priest, was a shaman with little attachment to the heavens' will. He was born with an extra finger, almost destined to be a shaman in the Blue Mist Tribe's customs.

It was sort of a rebellion. Six-Fingered prepared a false omen. The warriors didn't understand the shamans' ways anyway. All they had to do was just chant something plausible and cast the omen.

Under Six-Fingered's lead, the ritual preparation was completed. Since there were no sacrifices, the shamans cut their palms to extract blood. They waited for the heavens' will, offering human blood.

"Hmmm."

Six-Fingered hummed, watching the blood drops scatter in the water bowl. The warriors held their breath, waiting for the omen.

"The blood points west. The heavens also watch over this expedition."

At Six-Fingered's words, the warriors erupted. Their thunderous roars seemed to reach the heavens.

"The heavens guide us! Let's go, my brothers! We shall do what no one has done before. Pleasure and glory await us beyond!"

Samikan raised his spear to the west and shouted. The warriors stomped their feet, roaring.

"What a splendid lie. Has Samikan always led the tribe this way?"

Belrua crossed her arms, watching the motivated warriors. Belrua didn't mind the false omen either. The Red Sand Tribe, being blacksmiths and traders, had a more secular mindset.

"Come here! My brother, Urich."

Samikan gestured to Urich. Urich walked beside Samikan. Samikan grabbed Urich's hand and raised it.

"Stone Axe Tribe's Chief Urich! No one here is unaware of this man! The great warrior who was the first man to cross the Sky Mountains and return! A man who crossed the mountains is with us. What is a split wasteland in comparison!"

"Ooooh!"

"Uuuurich!!"

The warriors' frenzy surged hotly. Even those who were half-believing the tale of crossing the mountains were swept up in the atmosphere and believed in Urich's feat.

The shamans frowned upon this break from tradition and taboo, but there was no stopping the current flow. Even if there was a way, breaking morale at a time like this would do no good.

The alliance departed before the warriors' vigor faded. They stepped toward the split wasteland. The cracked earth seemed to parch the throat just by looking at it.

"It really is the dry season now."

The sun was hot, and the air was dry. Each breath made one's throat parch.

The warriors who were initially talkative soon fell silent, conserving even their saliva.

"Hmm."

Urich snatched a scorpion emerging from the cracked ground. He snapped off its tail and chewed the scorpion alive.

Urich spat out pieces of the scorpion's shell, gazing at the horizon. After three days of walking, there was still nothing in sight.

The warriors knew how to conserve. In a dry season, they ate and drank as little as possible.

The tribal warriors, accustomed to trekking across vast wastelands and plains, were veterans of marching and had strong endurance.

"Phew, Urich. Walking mindlessly is getting boring. Tell me about beyond the mountains."

Samikan approached Urich.

"It'll just dry out my mouth. No thanks."

"I'll give you one of my water pouches."

"Well, that certainly changes things."

Urich smiled, taking the water pouch and wetting his mouth and lips.

"Did I tell you about crossing the mountains before?"

"Roughly. Up to being captured by the expedition."

"The expedition was clumsy. They underestimated my strength. They thought tying my arms with those ropes was enough."

Samikan wasn’t the only one who listened to Urich's story. Other warriors also walked nearby, eavesdropping. The world beyond the mountains was now virtually a fact. Despite the shamans' warnings of evil spirits and taboos, everyone acknowledged the world beyond the mountains.

"When they were preparing to camp, I broke the ropes with all my strength. I snatched a sword from one of them and swung it. The expedition might have climbed the mountains well, but they weren't good fighters. In their confusion, I cut off their heads one by one."

Urich's story was captivating. Just as the young men of the Stone Axe Tribe were drawn to Urich, the passionate warriors with eager hearts loved his tales of adventure.

"Great lie, Samikan. Have you always led the tribe this way?"

Beluwa, arms folded, observed the fired-up warriors. Beluwa had no qualms about the false omen. The Red Sand, being blacksmiths and traders, had a more worldly mindset.

"Come here! My brother, Urich."

Samikan waved Urich over. Urich walked beside Samikan, and Samikan grabbed and raised Urich's hand.

"Stone Axe Chief Urich! No one here doesn't know this man! The great warrior who first crossed and returned from the Sky Mountains! What does a mere split wasteland matter when a man who crossed the mountains is with us!"

"Ooooh!"

"Yuuurich-!!"

The warriors' enthusiasm surged hotly. Those who half-doubted the story of crossing the mountains were swept up in the mood and believed in Urich's achievement.

The shamans, disapproving of the breaking of tradition and taboos, wore displeased expressions, but there was no stopping the current flow. Even if there was a way, dampening morale at this time would do no good.

The confederation departed before the warriors' fervor died down. They stepped toward the split wasteland. The cracked earth seemed to parch the throat just by looking at it.

"It really is a dry season."

The sun was hot, the air dry. Every breath felt as if it dried the throat.

Initially chatty, the warriors soon fell silent, conserving even their saliva.

"Hmm."

Urich caught a scorpion emerging from the cracked ground. He snapped off its tail and chewed the scorpion alive.

Crunch, crunch.

Urich spat out pieces of the scorpion's shell while gazing at the horizon. After three days of walking, there was still nothing in sight.

'No hurry. We still have enough water and food.'

The warriors knew how to conserve. In the dry season, they ate and drank as little as possible.

The tribal warriors, used to trekking across vast wastelands and plains, were veterans of marching with strong endurance.

"Phew, Urich. Just walking is boring. Tell me about the other side of the mountains."

Samikan approached Urich.

"It'll only dry my mouth. No thanks."

"I'll give you my water skin."

"Then it's a different story."

Urich smiled, taking the water skin, and wet his mouth and lips.

"Did I already tell you about crossing the mountains?"

"Roughly. Up to being captured by the expedition."

"The expedition was clumsy. They underestimated my strength. They thought tying my arms with those ropes was secure."

Not just Samikan listened to Urich's tale. Other warriors also walked nearby, eavesdropping. The world beyond the mountains was now virtually a fact. Despite the shamans' warnings of demons and taboos, everyone recognized the world beyond the mountains.

"When they were preparing to camp, I broke the ropes with all my strength. I snatched a sword from one of them and swung it around. The expedition might have climbed the mountains well, but they weren't good fighters. In their confusion, I methodically beheaded them."

Urich's tale was captivating. Just as the young men of the Stone Axe tribe were drawn to Urich, the passionate warriors loved his tales of adventure.