Chapter Fifteen: The Ancestral Rite

When the first rays of dawn touched Golden Crow Ridge, the clansmen of the Fire Crow Tribe had already climbed halfway up the mountain, gathering outside the ancestral temple. The sunlight was dazzling, and enormous fire crows soared overhead, their cries echoing in the morning air. A few aged and decrepit crows, their fiery feathers long since fallen away, emerged lazily from their vast nests, gazing down at the tribespeople below and uttering intermittent calls.

Ji Hao stood among a group of children on the flat ground outside the ancestral temple. The temple itself was built halfway up Golden Crow Ridge, beneath a cliff a thousand feet high. A square entrance had been carved into the rock, and through a corridor stretching a hundred feet, one reached the sacred resting place of the tribe's ancestral spirits.

Groups of clansmen continued to ascend, lining up neatly in the plaza outside the temple. Everyone wore solemn expressions, their eyes filled with an indescribable awe and fervor. Many shamans and elders carried large jade trays, each crafted from exquisite gems and laden with gold, jade, and other rare offerings. Ji Hao glanced around; the treasures gleamed brilliantly, and many were so rare he had never even heard of them. Each item radiated a powerful spiritual energy, their brilliance causing clouds of light and strange phenomena to manifest—evidence of their extraordinary value.

As the sun fully rose above the eastern peaks, the Grand Shaman Ji Kui stepped forward from the crowd. At his appearance, the tribespeople gathered on the mountain platform erupted in cheers. Draped in the skin of a flood dragon, wearing a helmet fashioned from its skull, and adorned with a necklace of sharp beast teeth, Ji Kui held a blood jade dagger as he strode to the temple entrance, raising his hand with commanding authority.

Shamans from over a thousand Fire Crow sub-tribes, here for the once-a-decade ancestor worship, came forward to stand behind Ji Kui. They knelt before the dark entrance of the ancestral temple and began chanting ancient, enigmatic incantations in unison.

A chilling, ancient flow stirred in the air, sending a shiver through Ji Hao; instinctively, he glanced around. It felt as if icy specters pressed against his body, freezing him to the core.

Suddenly, cries and wails erupted. Led by Ji Xia, thousands of burly warriors surged from the crowd, dragging forward slaves who struggled and shouted in terror. These slaves were emaciated, their bodies covered in scars from countless lashings, their murky eyes filled with fear and despair.

"Fire Crow scum! Our Blackwater Serpent Tribe will never rest until you are destroyed!"
"My father is an elder! My father is an elder of the Blackwater Serpent Tribe!"

"Great ancestral spirits above, take my soul now—don't let it be devoured by the evil spirits of these outsiders!"
The slaves roared and struggled in fury, but bound tightly with beast sinew ropes, they could not escape Ji Xia and the others' grasp. Soon, one slave, loudly declaring his father was an elder of the Blackwater Serpent Tribe, was forced to kneel before Ji Kui.

"Son of a Blackwater Serpent elder? Our ancestors will gladly accept your soul," Ji Kui said coldly, his withered hand pressing down on the slave, who was a head taller than him. The slave let out a terrible scream and collapsed as Ji Kui’s blood jade dagger plunged into his heart. Mysterious runes on the dagger glowed, and waves of heat poured forth.

With a hissing sound, the slave's body convulsed violently. In moments, his robust frame shriveled and collapsed, all his vital essence drained by the dagger, leaving only ashes swirling away.

The other slaves watched this horror unfold, screaming and shouting all the louder—some even broke down in tears from fright.

Ji Kui, utterly indifferent, continued to slaughter the slaves one by one. After absorbing the blood of thousands, the blood jade dagger shone with a vivid crimson, almost as if it would drip blood at any moment. The mysterious runes on its blade blazed ever brighter, and waves of heat radiated so fiercely that the tribespeople standing on the mountainside were drenched in sweat.

The kneeling shamans’ faces flushed red, their chanting growing louder and more fervent.

Suddenly, a gale roared from the temple entrance, swirling around the feet of each tribesperson.

Ji Hao clenched his fists, watching Ji Kui.

This was only the minor, once-in-ten-years ritual. The number of slaves sacrificed was less than ten thousand. If it were the once-in-a-century grand ritual, the Fire Crow Tribe would slaughter over a hundred thousand slaves at once.

Yet even after sacrificing only a few thousand, the blood jade dagger had become wondrous and powerful, like a sun of blood suspended before Ji Kui, radiating terrifying heat. Its glow pulsed and contracted like a beating heart, throbbing with potent life energy.

Ji Hao was already familiar with the rites of the ancestor worship: slaughter slaves before the temple, draw out their blood and souls, and present them, along with rare treasures, at the altar inside.

Within the ancestral temple dwelled a mysterious entity—perhaps the soul of the tribe’s ancestor, perhaps something else unknown—which would devour the essence and souls within the blood jade dagger, consume the treasures offered, and finally grant boons to the supplicants.

These boons were unpredictable, dependent on the will of the ancestral spirit.

In the history of the Fire Crow Tribe, there was once a newborn child who, favored by the ancestral spirit, received all the gifts from that year's grand ritual—opening over a hundred shamanic apertures and attaining the power of a Grand Shaman. That child later became the tribe’s last Shaman Emperor.

Holding the blood jade dagger, Ji Kui was about to enter the temple when Ji Shu called out loudly, stepping forward from his clan.

"Grand Shaman, before the ancestral spirits, I, Ji Shu, a descendant of the spirits, have something to say."

Ji Kui’s shriveled face twitched. He looked coldly at Ji Shu and said in a low voice, "According to ancestral law, during the ancestor worship, any clansman may speak. But Ji Shu, if what you say is not important, you must bear the wrath of the ancestral spirits. Do you understand?"

Ji Shu bowed respectfully and, smiling, nodded to the silent tribespeople around him. "What I have to say is indeed important. It concerns the welfare of the entire Fire Crow Tribe—those unfit for high positions should step down."

Raising his arms high, his sinewy muscles writhing beneath pale skin like angry serpents, Ji Shu declared, "Ji Xia, elder brother! You are the chief of the sacred warriors, the leader of all our tribe's warriors from over a thousand clans! But do you still possess the strength worthy of that role?"

Swinging his arm, Ji Shu shouted, "According to the laws of the Southern Wilds, according to our ancestors' rules, Ji Xia, I challenge you! Do not blame me—this is for the good of the entire Fire Crow Tribe!"

Ji Xia grunted deeply, grasped his spear, and stepped in front of Ji Shu.

But before Ji Xia could speak, Ji Hao called out loudly, his clear voice ringing across the plaza:

"Father, wait! Uncle Ji Shu, don’t forget—I still have a match with Ji Wu!"

"In front of all the clans, before the ancestral spirits, Ji Wu and I have a fight to settle!"