Chapter Twenty-Five: The Message

As the eastern sun rose, Ji Hao stood in his own courtyard, gazing in a daze at the fiery red orb. Last night, under the supervision of Ji Kui, he had signed a shamanic pact with Lord Crow, and in doing so, gained immense benefits. Lord Crow was an ancient fire crow who had lived nearly a thousand years and was considered a formidable force even among the great shamans.

The moment the shamanic pact was sealed, it was as if a tiny, dried-up pond had suddenly been connected to a vast, rolling river. Shamanic power surged from Lord Crow into Ji Hao’s body, propelling him through the tenth level of the Shaman Realm and instantly awakening his bloodline power, placing him at the eleventh level.

Facing the crimson sun, Ji Hao slowly flexed his limbs. Within his flesh, it felt as if dozens of scorching lines formed a marvelous network, through which his vital blood ceaselessly flowed. Without resorting to spiritual introspection, he could sense the dimly glowing nodes along these networks—these were the shamanic points encompassed by the Three-legged Golden Crow bloodline.

His vital blood continually washed over these burning threads, strengthening and toughening the network with each pass, gradually absorbing wisps of blood energy into itself. As Ji Hao moved, a mysterious power within him seemed ready to burst forth. Just one more chance, a little more accumulated strength, and an extraordinary force would erupt—this was the innate ability bestowed by the Golden Crow bloodline.

Inside the wooden cottage, Ji Xia and Qing Fu were still in deep sleep. Though the power of the Samadhi Fire within them had been dispelled by Ji Hao, the two had been scorched by the primal flame for so long that not only their flesh and vital energy, but even their souls had suffered considerable harm. Ji Hao was employing a secret Nine-Character Mantra to restore their vitality and nourish their souls, a process that would take several days. Thus, he did not wake them, but allowed them to sleep and recover naturally.

The fat bear sprawled lazily at the cottage door. Since signing the shamanic pact, Lord Crow could now shrink or enlarge his form at will. He had become just over a foot tall and was perched atop the bear’s head, pecking leisurely at a thick piece of beast meat, occasionally narrowing his crimson eyes to glance at Ji Hao.

With a thud, the courtyard’s wooden gate was suddenly pushed open. A young man clad in animal skins strode in, clutching a spear and carrying a thick wooden shield on his back. He glanced around the courtyard and nodded to Ji Hao. “Hao, how is Uncle Ji Xia?”

Ji Hao turned, squinting at the youth for a moment. “Father and Mother… Ji Tu, the shaman priest, has given them shamanic medicine to suppress their injuries for now. With some time to recover, they should be fine. Brother Ji Hu, is something the matter?”

The newcomer, Ji Hu, was Ji Hao’s cousin, three years his senior. By blood, Ji Hu’s family was somewhat distantly related to Ji Hao’s branch. However, with most of their kin slain in battle, only Ji Hao’s direct family remained, while Ji Hu’s family was large, giving them considerable influence in the Golden Crow Ridge. Ji Hu himself was no weakling; among his peers in Golden Crow Ridge, he had reached the peak of the seventh level of the Shaman Realm in his teens and had distinguished himself in many group hunts, earning him great respect among his age group.

Normally, Ji Hao devoted himself to learning shamanic arts from the elder priests or roamed the hills with a band of foreign friends like Lord Hengluo, rarely interacting with peers like Ji Hu. Meeting him so unexpectedly, Ji Hao was unsure of his intentions.

“Hao, everyone is furious about Uncle Ji Xia’s injury,” Ji Hu said, frowning and in a grave tone. “That Ji Shu, to strike so hard against his own kin—now that he’s the chief warrior of the Fire Crow Clan, we refuse to accept it.”

Looking at the righteously indignant Ji Hu, Ji Hao’s mind raced through many thoughts, and he sighed deeply. “But what can we do if we refuse? Father is gravely injured, and Ji Shu is now the chief warrior. What more can we do?”

Ji Hu stepped closer, lowering his voice mysteriously. “A few days ago, when I was hunting eagle chicks in the mountains, I discovered two ‘Death-defying Vines,’ at least several centuries old. Those are miraculous life-saving treasures. A man-faced centipede was guarding them, and I didn’t dare act alone. If we join forces, we can retrieve them. Uncle Ji Xia’s wounds would surely heal.”

“Death-defying Vine?” Ji Hao seized Ji Hu’s shoulder in feigned delight. “Really? That man-faced centipede is no easy foe. Can the two of us manage?”

Ji Hu slapped his chest confidently and whispered, “Not just the two of us. I’ve also called Ah Feng and Ah Shui to help. With the four of us, we can kill that centipede.”

With a glint in his eye, Ji Hu tempted, “Hao, as long as Uncle Ji Xia recovers, he can lead the clan against Ji Shu. Ji Shu won’t be able to run wild in Golden Crow Ridge.”

Ji Hao glanced askance at Ji Hu. These words sounded too good—fit only to deceive children! Ji Shu had already secured the Fire Crow Axe-staff and the authority over the clan’s warriors, powers even the priests and elders could not easily challenge. In Ji Hu’s telling, resisting Ji Shu seemed as easy as turning one’s hand. And besides, in Golden Crow Ridge, Ji Shu must have supporters; with the mantle of righteousness, could he really be opposed so easily?

After a long silence, Ji Hao gripped Ji Hu’s hands, feigning urgency. “Brother Ji Hu, then let’s waste no time. Let’s set out at once, retrieve the Death-defying Vine, and save my father and mother.”

He paused, lowering his voice as well. “Since we’re sneaking out, we can’t let anyone know. I’m afraid someone might tell Ji Shu and he’d interfere. After all, we kids are no match for the elite warriors of the clan.”

Ji Hu nodded earnestly and patted Ji Hao’s shoulder. “You’re absolutely right, Hao. No one else can know. Just you, me, Ah Feng, and Ah Shui. We’ll leave now and be back before dark.”

Ji Hao gave a whistle, and Lord Crow fluttered over, perching on his shoulder. Ji Hu barely spared Lord Crow a glance. In Golden Crow Ridge, these crows numbered in the millions, weak to the point that they could not even match the lowest level of the Shaman Realm—hardly worth a second look.

“Let’s go quickly so we can return early. We can’t take the main road and be seen by clansmen; the little trail we usually sneak out to play on is best,” Ji Hu said with a grin, leading the way. The two slipped into the grass behind the wooden cottage, one after the other.

A short while later, Ji Hao, Ji Hu, and two other youths quietly left the clan’s valley and hurried into the endless forest.

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