Chapter Forty-Eight: Punishment

Late at night, a blazing campfire illuminated the Coldstream Valley. Like a spirit haunting the darkness, Qingfu moved lightly through the valley, holding a long banner made of white bone. As she paced in a relaxed manner, she chanted ancient, mysterious incantations and waved her banner, sending back into the wilds the forest spirits she had summoned.

The most powerful of these, a pair of black-and-white bone beasts, muttered lowly to themselves. After feasting on the blood of two giant beasts offered by Ji Xia, they melted away, fully satisfied, into the thick mist. Gusts of small whirlwinds whistled away in all directions through the forest, their indistinct voices echoing through the air. The slaughter that night had left the forest spirits near Coldstream Valley in a state of agitation; even now, their restless energy had not yet calmed.

On the roaring fire, three massive one-horned black serpents—each over ten fathoms long—had been skinned. Their snowy-white flesh sizzled and crackled, with ribbons of fat dripping into the flames, sending up an intoxicating aroma.

Ji Hao sat contentedly by the fire, clutching a huge length of serpent meat and devouring it in great, hungry bites.

Old Shi obediently sat by the fire as well. Whenever Ji Hao finished off a section of snake, Old Shi would crush the bones for him. The thick, jade-like marrow oozed out, carrying a rich fragrance. Ji Hao eagerly opened his mouth and swallowed down the marrow, which was brimming with tremendous life force.

In his lower abdomen, a multicolored flame flickered rapidly, temporarily releasing the great shaman’s blood essence hovering above it to devote itself to refining the snake meat and marrow Ji Hao had consumed. These three one-horned black serpents were creatures whose strength rivaled that of a great shaman. The life energy stored in their flesh was vast and boundless, offering Ji Hao immense benefit.

Once he had devoured every last scrap of a section, Ji Hao stood up and, oblivious to all around him, began to practice a series of slow, deliberate martial movements.

A torrent of multicolored light surged through his body like a great river in flood, waves of heat sweeping over him. Ji Hao felt his whole body burning, sweat pouring down his skin. His power had once again grown significantly; when he moved, his joints collided with a faint clangor, as if metal striking metal could be heard from within.

“Old Shi, keep these snake meats safe for me. This is a reward from Grandfather—I won’t waste a single bite!” Ji Hao gazed happily at the roasted serpents on the fire. If he spent two days consuming all three of these beasts, each as powerful as a great shaman, his strength would soar to new heights.

Old Shi grunted in assent, swiveling his massive head and casting wary glances all around. His posture made it clear that anyone who dared approach the snake meat would have to go through him first.

Nearby, beside another campfire, Ji Zhuo—his leg still sealed in a thick block of ice—leaned against a huge boulder, squinting at Ji Xiao, who was kneeling motionless before him. Ji Zhuo toyed with a natural gold nugget he’d found by the riverbank, molding the hard metal in his hands as if it were soft clay.

“Xiao, by blood, your direct ancestor was my fifth younger brother.” After a long silence, Ji Zhuo spoke in a low voice. “When you trace it back, you and I are close kin.”

Ji Xiao knelt, sweat pouring from his body, every muscle trembling.

“My little brother, the fifth... Do you know how he died?” Ji Zhuo looked up at the star-studded sky, his tone calm. “Almost six hundred years ago, for the sake of a volcanic mine rich in crimson copper, my brother led three hundred kin and five thousand warriors of the Blackwater Serpent Tribe in a desperate three-day battle. They refused to retreat, slaying eight hundred and fifty enemies before he succumbed to exhaustion and was killed.”

As he spoke, Ji Zhuo suddenly brought the gold nugget down hard on Ji Xiao’s head. A great shaman’s skull was sturdy indeed—the gold flattened into a golden cake, nearly encasing Ji Xiao’s entire head.

“The Blackwater Serpent Tribe took his head, fashioned it into a drinking vessel, and to this day it remains enshrined on their ancestral altar!” Ji Zhuo’s eyes blazed with fury, his voice a hoarse, urgent roar. “He was your direct ancestor, and his skull is still on their altar—yet you allied yourself with the Blackwater Serpent Tribe to attack your own kin!”

Having eaten his fill, Ji Hao ambled over, arms folded across his chest, regarding Ji Xiao with a cold, unyielding gaze.

Ji Xiao looked up at Ji Hao, tore the golden cake from his head, and screamed, voice cracking, “But Ji Hao killed Ah Hu! My only son, Ah Hu!”

Ji Hao stared at Ji Xiao’s flushed, angry face and replied coldly, “Ah Hu tried to kill me—he swore it before the ancestral spirits. He and Ah Feng, Ah Shui, together with Jiang Xue, conspired to murder me. Uncle Xiao, do you think I’m the sort of fool who lets others cut off my head without fighting back?”

Ji Xiao opened his mouth, but no words came forth.

Ji Hao continued, his tone calm, “You knew Ah Hu was coming to kill me, didn’t you?”

Ji Xiao still said nothing, but the contorted expression on his face showed that Ji Hao spoke the truth.

Ji Hao looked at Ji Zhuo, whose face had darkened, and said, “Grandfather, Uncle Xiao knew that Ah Hu had colluded with outsiders to kill me, but he didn’t stop him. When I fought back and killed Ah Hu, he turned around and joined forces with our old enemies of the Fire Crow Tribe to kill me, Father, and Mother. What did the Bifang Tribe offer him to make him do such a thing?”

Ji Zhuo drew a deep breath and smashed a stone on Ji Xiao’s head. “What did the Bifang Tribe give you that was worth betraying us?”

The stone shattered. Ji Xiao murmured, “If Ji Xia the elder is killed, the Blackwater Serpent Tribe will release Jiang Xue. Ji Hou’s son will take Ji Wu’s place and marry Jiang Xue. One of Jiang Yao’s sisters will become my woman, bear my children.”

Ji Hao laughed mockingly. “Ji Shu is already in the Bifang Tribe’s hands. If you take another woman from Bifang, who will rule the sacred land of the Fire Crow Tribe—our people, or theirs?”

Ji Zhuo remained silent; Ji Xiao did not speak. Ji Hao fixed his gaze on Ji Xiao and said coldly, “You conspired with outsiders, betrayed your own kin. Uncle Xiao, you deserve to die.”

A violent tremor passed through Ji Xiao’s body. Like a madman, he leapt up, pointing at Ji Hao in rage. “What did you say? You brat, what right do you have to judge me? Are you an elder of the Fire Crow Tribe? Are you its high shaman? How did Ji Xia raise you?”

When Ji Xiao had been captured alive, Qingfu had already sealed all his shamanic points with the Thorn of Life and Death and used shaman medicine to sap his strength. Now he was little stronger than an ordinary clansman.

Ji Hao struck Ji Xiao cleanly on the jaw, knocking him flat, then seized him by the neck and dragged him toward the end of Coldstream Valley. As he walked, he spoke coldly, “Grandfather, am I wrong? Whatever reason Uncle Xiao had, he must die. The laws set by our ancestors must be upheld.”

Ji Zhuo nodded in silence. The laws of the ancestors must always be honored.

Ji Xia jumped up from the fire, about to protest—after all, he still remembered the friendship between himself and Ji Xiao and could not bear to see him killed. After all, a great shaman was an invaluable asset in the southern jungles.

But Qingfu quietly appeared before Ji Xia, spreading her arms to block his way.

Ji Xia tried to speak, but Ji Zhuo grabbed him and pulled him down to sit.

“When a man does wrong, he must be punished. Xia, you are a good elder brother, a good war leader—but you will never be a good chief. Hao is far stronger than you in this regard!”

***

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