Chapter Twelve: The Act of Spying

Night had fallen. A floating continent drifted over the Golden Crow Ridge, obscuring the starlit sky. At the summit, three enormous crows hovered lazily in the air, yawning as their wings emitted a faint radiance that bathed the surroundings. The thin red glow illuminated a hundred miles of forest, eliminating any chance for outside enemies to use the darkness to launch a surprise attack.

Inside the Ji Hao family’s wooden house, the hearth blazed with fire. Half of a cleaned four-armed ape-bear was roasting over the flames, fat sizzling and dripping onto the fire below. The rich aroma wafted through the air, making the plump bear lying by the door drool until a puddle formed on the ground.

Earlier that day, Ji Hao had cut more than a hundred pounds of honey from a golden-winged bee hive. He slathered the golden, glistening honey over the sizzling roast, releasing an intoxicating, sweet fragrance. Satisfied, he took a bite, eyes narrowing with contentment, and hummed happily before handing a piece to Qing Fu.

“Mother, golden-winged bee honey is good for your health,” Ji Hao said, beaming.

Golden-winged bees were notoriously fierce and savage. Their honey was made from the nectar and pollen of countless flowers, but also from the essence and marrow of many slain beasts and birds. As such, their honey was a powerful tonic, especially nourishing for soul and vitality—particularly effective for a shaman like Qing Fu.

Qing Fu accepted the roast with a smile, took a delicate bite, and cast Ji Hao a sidelong, amused glance.

“Hao, did you really go harvest golden-winged bee honey? I thought…”

“What did you think?” Ji Hao asked calmly, hacking off a large chunk of meat with a stone knife and tearing into it. In his lower belly, multicolored flames flickered. The meat he swallowed was digested almost instantly, transformed into shimmering brilliance that merged with his body.

He let out a raspy laugh, grabbed a jug of home-brewed cassava wine, and took a swig. Looking at Qing Fu, he said, “I heard something happened to Jiang Yao and Ji Wu. Mother, you don’t think I had anything to do with it, do you? I could handle Ji Wu, but Jiang Yao… I’m no match for her.”

Qing Fu narrowed her eyes, her smile sly. She sipped from a small stone wine jug and replied serenely, “You certainly can’t best Jiang Yao. Still, who knows? You never play with the other children in the tribe, but you have no shortage of friends outside.”

Ji Hao froze for a moment, then burst out laughing and said no more. The stone knife rose and fell, reducing the four-armed ape-bear to scraps. The massive piece of bear, more than ten feet long, was picked clean by Ji Hao in less than half an hour.

Patting his stomach in satisfaction, Ji Hao wiped his mouth and slipped up the stairs to his attic room.

“Mother, I’m off to bed. Who knows when Father will return tonight, so don’t wait up for him.”

Qing Fu smiled gently, slowly massaging her waist as she gathered the scattered bones left by Ji Hao, stacking them neatly in a corner. The four-armed ape-bear was a fierce beast of the minor shaman realm, its bones dense and hard—excellent materials for making ritual implements, far too precious to discard.

As she busied herself, Qing Fu muttered softly to herself, “It can’t be Hao, can it? Well, it’s just as well if it’s not. If it is, that’s even better.”

In the attic, Ji Hao sprawled on the floor, gazing through the window at the red glow above Golden Crow Ridge. The sounds of Qing Fu tidying up drifted up to him. After about a quarter of an hour, the hearth fire was smothered with ashes and died down, Qing Fu extinguished the lamp, and retreated to her bedroom.

Ji Xia was not home tonight. He was out with a group of trusted clansmen, visiting several elders and shamans in the tribe who usually maintained a neutral stance.

Ji Hao waited a while longer, listening for the steady breathing from Qing Fu’s room. Assured that she was asleep, he quietly rose, carefully retrieving a crimson, heat-radiating crow feather from a hidden compartment in the attic’s corner.

He bit his finger, quickly traced three ancient sigils on the feather, and chanted silently. The feather ignited noiselessly, transforming into a palm-sized black crow that fluttered out the window.

Seated cross-legged in the attic, Ji Hao’s eyes glimmered with a faint red light. Everything the crow saw was projected into his vision. A fine thread of spiritual energy connected him to the crow, guiding it toward Ji Shu’s encampment.

On one side of the valley, near the entrance, Ji Shu’s retinue had set up their own camp, erecting hundreds of animal-hide tents. The darkness provided perfect cover for Ji Hao’s shamanic crow, which glided soundlessly across the night sky and settled atop the largest tent.

The tent, built for temporary use, was crudely made, with large seams where the hides had been stitched together. The black crow pressed its scarlet eyes to a gap, peering inside.

Within, two large earthen vats stood. In one, a thick, crimson medicinal broth boiled, with Ji Wu soaking in it. Flames circled the vat, silently heating the liquid until it bubbled fiercely.

Scalded by the boiling medicine, Ji Wu’s face was twisted in pain, his mouth open in a silent scream, yet not a sound escaped him.

The other vat was filled with green medicine, writhing with countless venomous insects and their body parts. Jiang Yao, also badly wounded, sat in the vat, gritting her teeth as black-red smoke streamed from her orifices.

In the attic, Ji Hao sneered coldly. That green medicine was potent indeed, forcing all the clotted blood in Jiang Yao’s body to vaporize and be expelled.

Unlike the voiceless Ji Wu, Jiang Yao cursed through clenched teeth, her words dripping with venom: “It was Ji Xia’s people, it must have been him colluding with the Blackwater Serpent clan to harm me and Wu! This is Golden Crow Ridge—how could those Blackwater Serpent rats sneak in here?”

“Ji Shu, if you’re any kind of man, you’ll hack Ji Xia to pieces in the ancestral hall! I swear I’ll kill Qing Fu and Ji Hao with my own hands!” Jiang Yao raged, her voice shrill and ghostly. “Ji Xia, in league with your Fire Crow tribe’s enemies, dared to infiltrate your sacred land and try to murder me!”

Ji Shu stood in the tent, arms folded, face expressionless, his breathing nearly imperceptible.

Two other middle-aged men were present. One was tall and burly, bearing a striking resemblance to Ji Shu. The other was slender and handsome, with a four-foot-long black beard and features very similar to Jiang Yao’s.

At Jiang Yao’s tirade, the bearded man slapped her hard across the face, sending blood spraying from her mouth and swirling into the green medicine, creating a bizarre, mottled color.

“Fool,” the middle-aged man said coolly. “How could I have such a stupid daughter?”

The burly man sighed. “Ji Shu, it seems some shamans and elders in the sacred land are unhappy with our branch supplanting Ji Xia’s line as the main family. At this ancestral ceremony, just secure the position of the sacred land’s warrior chief for yourself.”

He paused, then added darkly, “If we want to eliminate future troubles, we’ll have to find another way after the ceremony.”

***

A host of authors—Fengmei, Ergen, Dancing, Xiao Selang, and many more—are here today for meetings all day!

Here are two chapters for now. If I make it back to my room awake tonight, I’ll post another. If not, I’ll catch up later!

With teary eyes, may I ask for more recommendation votes?