Chapter Forty-Nine: Interrogation

At the end of the Cold Creek Valley, Ji Hao forced Ji Xiao to kneel facing the direction of Golden Crow Ridge. Ji Xiao struggled several times, trying to resist, but with his shamanic core sealed and under the control of witchcraft, he had no strength to break free. His knees pressed into the ground, his face turned toward the distant Golden Crow Ridge thousands of miles away, and he let out a long, furious roar, torn between shame and rage.

“Uncle, stop yelling. It’s useless,” Ji Hao said, toying with a blood-jade dagger, his fingers dancing nimbly as the blade spun between them like a sprite, casting a ring of crimson light in the starlight.

“Since Grandfather Ji Zha has arrived, no one can save you now. You and I both know Grandfather Ji Zha’s temper. Remember when Uncle Kui fled the battlefield before the Blackwater Serpent Clan? Grandfather personally chopped his head off. Compared to that, your crime is far more serious.”

Ji Hao patted Ji Xiao’s shoulder, his tone earnest. Ji Xiao panted heavily, drenched in cold sweat that quickly soaked a patch of riverbank. He stared blankly at Ji Hao, his voice trembling. “Hao, it was all because of Ahu. Why did you have to kill him? Couldn’t you have just wounded him? Why did you have to take his life?”

“Because he showed me no mercy,” Ji Hao replied, regarding Ji Xiao with mocking indifference. “Uncle, haven’t you figured it out yet? The problem between us isn’t about Ahu… His death is just an excuse you gave yourself. You’re still young and strong—you could find more wives and father a hundred sons if you wanted.”

“The real issue between us is Ji Shu, and behind Ji Shu stands Jiang Yao, and behind Jiang Yao is the Bifang Clan!” Ji Hao stared at Ji Xiao’s scattered gaze, enunciating every word: “In the name of the ancestral spirits, ask yourself honestly—isn’t that the truth?”

Ji Xiao’s hands pressed into the earth, sweat streaming from his brow like a spring. He gasped, his body convulsing violently.

“I… Ji Shu…” Ji Xiao’s eyes rolled lifelessly, his once healthy complexion now a ghastly ashen blue.

“Zhe!”

Ji Hao softly chanted the Nine-Word Mantra, forming seals with his hands and gently pressing his fingertips to Ji Xiao’s brow. His eyes turned gold and red, nine sigils slowly revolving beside them, and a strange, soul-piercing force shot from his gaze into the depths of Ji Xiao’s eyes.

In the southern wilds, great shamans did not cultivate their primordial spirits. Even the witch-priests, who specialized in shamanic arts, nourished their souls through secret rites to gradually strengthen their mental power, using it to wield all manner of mysterious witchcraft. This was true even for those priests who could communicate with gods and spirits. As for close-combat shamans like Ji Xiao, their spiritual cultivation was a complete mess. His soul was powerful, yes, but only because of his formidable body and the endless nourishment of shamanic blood. In terms of spiritual cultivation, he hadn’t even reached the level Ji Hao had achieved at age three.

With Ji Xiao’s soul in turmoil, Ji Hao had no trouble seizing full control of his consciousness.

“Uncle, the crime you’ve committed is unforgivable—you are doomed to die. But before you go, tell me: why is Ji Shu so determined to seize Father’s position as warrior chief? What exactly is he planning? Tell me everything you know!”

Ji Xiao’s body twitched, the light in his eyes scattered. Under Ji Hao’s guidance, he began to speak softly. Ji Hao meticulously probed his soul, extracting every secret buried deep within.

Gradually, Ji Hao’s expression became strange. So all of Ji Shu’s scheming to steal Ji Xia’s position was for this?

“No wonder Ji Hou is acquainted with the slave traders. Turns out they’re old friends. Damn you, Ji Shu—you really found yourself a profitable path!”

In the southern wilds, though the Fire Crow Clan had not produced a shaman-king in thousands of years and their status had waned until they were now mere vassals to the Bifang Clan, their foundation still ran deep. Controlling a territory of over a hundred thousand miles in the jungle, the Fire Crow Clan remained a formidable force.

Beyond the sacred Golden Crow Ridge, the Fire Crow Clan had more than a thousand sub-tribes. Even the smallest of these numbered over a hundred thousand people, each guarded by at least a dozen great shamans. The largest, like the one Ji Shu belonged to, had over a million tribesmen and hundreds of great shamans.

After Ji Shu seized the position of warrior chief, all warriors—except the priests and elders—were subject to his command, including all the great and lesser shamans and elite warriors of the shamanic ranks.

Long ago, Ji Shu had secretly collaborated with the slave traders of the Blood Fang Company, abducting people from smaller tribes for large-scale trafficking. Now that he was chief, and with support from some elders and priests within Golden Crow Ridge, what had once been a petty operation was poised to expand rapidly.

Under Ji Xia and his predecessors, the Fire Crow Clan had treated the smaller forest tribes with leniency. As long as they paid tribute, they received the clan’s protection. But in Ji Shu’s plan, these meager tributes meant nothing. All the vassal tribes of the Fire Crow Clan would become slave farms, providing him an endless supply of captives.

According to Ji Xiao’s confession, Ji Shu had even resolved that if the supply of slaves could not satisfy his appetite, the Fire Crow Clan would wage open war—not only against their old enemies, the Blackwater Serpent Clan, but also against neighboring tribes with whom they had no quarrel. All would become his prey.

“He’ll plunge the southern wilds into chaos,” Ji Hao concluded, ending his interrogation of Ji Xiao. “How does he dare act so boldly? Just because of Jiang Bo? Can he bear the consequences?”

Ji Xiao gave a bitter smile and shook his head in silence. Though he had long been in league with Ji Shu, he was not a core confidant from Ji Shu’s own branch, and thus knew nothing of the innermost secrets.

“Well then, uncle, farewell!” Ji Hao raised the jade dagger. “One more thing—your shamanic blood won’t go to waste. My father and mother both need it to recover.”

Having consumed a large portion of the one-horned mysterious serpent, Ji Hao’s power had grown even stronger. Pouring all the energy from his Purple Mansion Core into the jade blade, he struck nearly a thousand times in swift succession, finally slicing open Ji Xiao’s chest and piercing his heart.

Under Ji Hao’s control, Ji Xiao gave a tragic laugh. A mass of golden-red fire blazed from his heart, drawing all his blood and vitality to it, until a clump of golden-red shaman blood seeped from the wound.

Within the dim, misty domain of the soul, Ji Hao called out loudly.

“Old one, with Ji Xiao’s shaman blood, may I teach the Heavenly Mending Art to my father and mother?”

White mist swirled, a phantom slowly took shape, and lowered its gaze…