Time flies. As spring arrived, several days of gentle rain fell in succession, promising a bountiful harvest this year. The cold winter had finally come to an end.
In a little over two months, the second daughter of the Grant Family would be married, and the northern tribes had not stirred up any further conflict. The Grant Family remained inactive as well.
Well done, Lucille.
Watching Lucille Xing, sweat pouring down her face as she practiced with determination, Sophie Grant couldn't help but offer praise. These days, many children around the age of ten had gathered near the palace in Grant City, beginning their training under the guidance of adults.
Although it was a busy planting season, King Grant had granted special permission for these children—they didn’t have to work the fields, and as long as they trained, they would still receive their monthly food rations.
Sophie Grant finally understood why her father had stockpiled so much food in Grant City and the surrounding Grant Family villages. Now, every child of age had to learn combat skills, regardless of gender.
So Father had always planned to raise the next generation for the Grant Family.
At the ruins of the Louis Clan, now reduced to rubble, Thomas Tang stood by the riverbank, gazing at the flowing water with a hint of melancholy in his eyes.
Don't blame me, Charles. I didn't want it to be this way, either. If our hearts aren't united, we can't accomplish anything great.
Father, something’s still wrong. There’s no way Charles and the others could have caught that many fish.
Stanley Tang rushed over along the riverbank. Thomas Tang also felt something was odd. After the Grant Family's army arrived, they withdrew for a time, then returned to collect useful items. What they found was a massive fish-drying house by the river—twenty buildings in total, with many fish still drying inside, though most had already been taken.
But the quantity was highly unusual. Thomas Tang was overjoyed and ordered his tribe to guard this secret closely. He then negotiated with other tribes, arranging for some of his people to settle here to strengthen the northern tribes' power.
More than ten thousand members of the Tang Clan arrived at this place, making use of any undamaged buildings and beginning to rebuild those that had been destroyed by war.
Maybe it’s just not the season yet. When summer comes, it’ll be prime fishing time, and we’ll have plenty of food. Once we’ve absorbed all the surrounding wild tribes, the other clans won’t be able to resist us. Ha!
What about Wynn Domain and May Domain...?
Stanley Tang hadn’t finished speaking when Thomas Tang burst out laughing.
They’re using our northern tribes as stepping stones, but aren’t we doing the same? As soon as they send troops, I won’t hold back. We’ll profit from it, and soon, we’ll become the new royal family of Grant Domain. All we need now is to build our strength and recover. The Grant Family won’t make any moves for now.
Stanley Tang laughed heartily.
Father was wise to start working with the Zou Clan early on. Their growing ambition will be the death of the Grant Family.
Stanley, I’ll leave things here to you. Make sure the defenses at the village entrance are solid. I’m heading back now.
Tang Shi gazed at the river, full of ambition and pride. He was even more ruthless than his father. Last time, when he escaped from Ji Capital, he didn’t hesitate—he killed Lu Mu without a word, just to force the wavering Lu Yu to commit fully to the war.
"Shi’er."
An aged voice sounded behind Tang Shi.
"Uncle, my father just left."
Behind him stood a one-eyed old man, chuckling. Behind the old man, another figure stood, face covered with a piece of fur, eyes sharp, dressed in black beast-hide clothing.
"Your father still wants to stand by and profit without effort. That won’t do—many tribes are already complaining. The people from Si Land and Ying Land aren’t fools. You’re far more capable than your father; as the next leader of our Tang clan, you truly put us at ease."
Tang Shi glanced at the man behind his uncle. He only knew this man was brought here by his uncle, not where he came from or his name. But in the last war, it was this man who devised a plan—placing a suspended stone in the middle of the frame, which broke through the Lu clan’s gate.
What unsettled Tang Shi most was that after every battle, this man would quietly watch the corpses alone at night, muttering to himself.
"Alright, Uncle. Later, tell them to stop fishing and come to the village entrance to help repair the defenses."
With that, Tang Shi left.
"Chimei Wangliang, do you think our tribe stands a chance in this war?"
The man behind the one-eyed old man shook his head.
"It’s like eggs against rocks. None of this concerns us. The attempt to absorb vital energy failed a few days ago—you’d better find someone who just died, or else..."
"What? It failed? What should I do? Am I going to die?"
The one-eyed old man immediately panicked, staring in terror at Chimei Wangliang.
"Don’t look at me. The methods passed down in our Wu tribe aren’t always reliable. Failure is common. I’ve only lived a little over two hundred years—many things can only be discovered as human society advances."
The one-eyed old man sighed and shook his head helplessly.
"Alright, I’ll take some men out later. I remember there are some wild tribes nearby—we’ll kill them all. You’ll have to come with me. As soon as someone dies, transfer the vital energy to me. My chest hurts; I even coughed up blood last night."
The one-eyed old man’s complexion was indeed poor. Chimei Wangliang’s eyes held a trace of worry as he gazed at the distant sky.
"Ever since last year’s Tribute Day, I’ve felt a vague unease in my heart. I don’t know why—perhaps it’s because of Ji family’s third daughter."
As Chimei Wangliang spoke, the one-eyed old man burst out laughing.
"What could a newborn girl possibly do? Ha!"
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"I don’t know. The day I saw the Ji King holding that baby girl, I felt a surge of unease inside."
The one-eyed old man laughed.
"You’re overthinking it."
Chimei Wangliang glanced at the village being rebuilt on the mountain.
"I’ve warned you—if you still won’t listen, your death won’t be my concern."
Chimei Wangliang spoke, and the one-eyed old man nodded.
"I understand. The conflicts of human society have nothing to do with us. We just need to find a way to survive. After all, only we can see what comes out after people die."
Chimei Wangliang nodded.
"Also, that’s your nephew, isn’t it? You keep teaching him such cruel things—I’m afraid he’ll end up destroying himself. With what he’s learned, he probably even wants to kill his own father. If his father dies, he’ll be chief of this forty-thousand-strong tribe."
"Isn’t that a good thing? The more people die, the better for us. By the way, what did you say people turn into after death? What do you call it?"
Chimei Wangliang squatted down and used his finger to scrawl the word "ghost" on the ground.
Things didn’t go as Tang Shan and Tang Shi had expected. When summer arrived, the heat was unbearable, and the northern region still had little rain. The relocated tribespeople hadn’t had a full meal in months.
There was little game in the forest. Although so many fish-drying huts had been built, in summer, barely a few fish were caught each day, and most were small.
"What’s going on?"
Tang Shan glared angrily at the river’s surface. Tang Shi hung his head, silent.
"Father, I don’t know why, but we can’t catch any fish in this river."
The road along the west bank had been tampered with by Qiao Da long ago. Only those going upstream for fish knew the way: they had to enter the mountains, find a barely detectable path, then return to the cultivated riverbank, follow the river west, and reach the fishing spot in half a day.
Now, forget about recuperating—the best they could hope for was not starving to death. Tang Shan had sent grain more than once, but the Tang clan was at least seven days away. Horses, carts, and people all needed food and rest—a huge expense. And if there were too few people, they feared raids from wild tribes stealing food.
There was no turning back now—they were rooted here.
"Sigh."
Tang Shan looked up and sighed deeply, pounding his fist on the riverbank. He just couldn’t understand why the Qiao clan had been so determined not to surrender before—later, he realized they had plenty of food and didn’t need to. But now, there was no food; even the shadow of game was gone in the forest, and his own tribe’s strength was weakening day by day.
The land near the Qiao clan was dead, unable to grow any grain—a fatal problem. But moving back now would mean even greater losses.
At the edge of the distant forest, the one-eyed old man laughed heartily. His face was flushed and alert; Chimei Wangliang stood behind him.
"If the drought lasts a few more days, even more people will die. Ha! I can keep absorbing vital energy."
As he spoke, the one-eyed old man suddenly coughed violently, spitting out a mouthful of black blood. He clutched his chest, face contorted in pain.
"When will you perform that shamanic ritual for me?"
"It’s not time yet—probably another eight or nine years."
The one-eyed old man sighed and sat down.
"Can’t you hurry? I’m not sure my body can hold out. I’ve been coughing up a lot of blood lately."
Chimei Wangliang pointed at the father and son by the river and laughed.
"Father and son—which one will you choose?"
The one-eyed old man watched silently for a while.
"Let’s go with my eldest brother. Tang Shi is still useful—the young body should be kept for now. I’ve already found him a woman. Heh, when he has a son or daughter, I can use them too."