The Old Shaman

Chapter 224 The Old Shaman

After climbing the hillside, Ye Wei'an discovered that he could easily overlook a large area of ​​the surrounding terrain. The view was so expansive that he could even vaguely see wisps of smoke rising from the direction of Sword Valley in the distance.

Ye Wei'an immediately realized the strategic value of this place—it was easy to defend and difficult to attack, had excellent visibility, and had a stable water source.

This made him think even more highly of the Swiftspear tribe, and at the same time, he secretly rejoiced:

Since his conquest of the Sword Valley kobolds, the Swiftspear tribe has maintained peaceful relations, and indeed, as Nath said, it is a relatively "good" or at least "lawful" neighbor.

If the Blackscale tribe had occupied such a strategic location, they probably would have launched endless attacks on the kobolds and even their territory long ago.

What surprised him even more were the settlements in the basin.

The Swiftspear Lizardman's lair was nothing like the filthy and savage place he had imagined.

Nestled between mountains and water, a small village is scattered in a charming and orderly fashion.

The wooden houses closest to the lake are quite exquisitely built, with roofs covered with dried reeds, walls constructed of a mixture of mud and wood, and long wooden boardwalks extending from the entrances into the lake.

Under the pier, several uniquely shaped small fishing boats are moored. Their hulls are long and narrow, made of skeleton and leather, with a distinct lizardman style, but they are kept very clean.

Wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys of several houses, and the air was filled with the fresh aroma of stewed seafood.

Several young lizard cubs were playing in the shallow water by the lake, making high-pitched cries; fishing nets and cured fish were drying on wooden racks on the shore.

Everything appeared peaceful and serene, like a vibrant paradise.

Ye Wei'an quietly observed the scene, becoming increasingly satisfied with this ally he had chosen.

This is not some barbaric race that only knows how to kill, but a settlement with a stable social structure, who has mastered fishing, hunting and building skills, and is striving to maintain the flame of civilization in the cruel swamp.

Dealing with such forces is far wiser than dealing with the Blackscale Tribe or the monster hordes of Chaos.

This trip was worthwhile.

Ye Weian and his group descended a low slope covered with gravel, heading towards the village.

Before we even got close, we saw a large group of dark figures gathered at the village entrance, waiting.

The leader was an elderly lizardman who was clearly quite old.

It was hunched over and half a head shorter than the young hunters around it, but its imposing presence made it stand out from the crowd.

He wore a crown made of enormous deer antlers and the wing bones of some kind of bird of prey, and a colorful feathered cloak draped over his shoulders. Most striking were his face covered in green scales and his withered chest, which was densely covered with scales.

The ground was covered with dark red patterns.

The patterns were crooked and twisted, as if they were tattooed with a mixture of the blood of some wild beast and plant juice, exuding a primitive and mysterious aura.

The moment Ye Wei'an's gaze fell upon it, a familiar system notification quietly appeared:

[High Shaman of the Swiftspear Tribe, Lv.7 Bard (Spirit Academy)]

Ye Wei'an's heart stirred slightly.

Bards are a rare sight at the Spirit Academy.

They seek out stories with inner power, whether legends, history, or fiction, and bring them to life.

These bards use mysterious tools to summon powerful spiritual avatars.

However, the old lizardman before them was clearly not a true bard.

The other person had neither the air of a bard nor any arcane power.

His power leans more towards traditional shamanism, but it just so happens that he is categorized as a "bard" within the system's classification.

In any case, encountering a Lv.7 spellcaster deep in the Thun Swamp is something to be extremely careful about.

Ye Wei'an's gaze swept over the welcoming crowd without making a sound.

The group gathered at the entrance of the village consisted mostly of elderly, weak, women, children, and female lizardmen carrying their cubs, as well as elderly people whose scales had become dull and some cubs peeking out.

They were unarmed, looked like ordinary villagers, and had a wary and curious expression on their faces.

But this does not mean that the village is undefended.

On the roof of the wooden house at the village entrance, behind the gap in the piled-up stone wall, and at the high point of the watchtower leading to the basin, a dozen extremely well-hidden figures were scattered sparsely.

Those were the true main force of the Swiftspear Hunters—they were tall and strong, with muscles bulging beneath their scales, their faces painted with bright red battle markings, wearing helmets made from crocodile jawbones or monitor lizard head skins, clad in leather armor, and their necks and wrists adorned with ornaments made from animal bones, sharp teeth, and claws.

They didn't appear in the welcoming party, but instead occupied every shooting angle, their bone longbows nocked with arrows, the bowstrings half-loose and half-tight, looking down over the entire entrance area.

Outwardly relaxed but inwardly tense, harboring deadly intent.

He remembered that Suan Chi had mentioned on the way that the Xunmao tribe followed the ancient guidance of the lizard god Samuanya and practiced the most traditional coming-of-age ceremony.

After their first molt, each cub is driven into the depths of the wilderness, alone with only a bone knife, until they hunt down an adult swamp crocodile, a monitor lizard, a giant bear, or even a Boling frog, and kill their prey by headshot.

Only by bringing back the bone can one be qualified to be called a "Swift Spear Hunter" and become a true warrior.

This brutal selection process honed the skills of the Swiftspear Lizardmen.

These lizardman hunters all exuded a fierce and wild aura.

According to the system, he could see that none of these ambushers were below level 2.

In a direct confrontation, if these dozen or so archers were to fire a volley from their elevated position, coupled with the Lv.7 old shaman, my squad would likely suffer heavy losses.

Without the slightest hesitation, Ye Wei'an dismounted and strode over to meet him.

He stopped three steps away from the old shaman, placed his right hand on his chest, let his left hand hang naturally at his side, and bowed slightly, performing a standard shaman's salute.

"Greetings, Elder Lizardman." His voice was clear and calm, without a trace of arrogance, as if he were a neighbor coming to visit. "I am Yevian Xiaxing, chieftain of the human tribe of Maloren's Resting Place. It is an honor to set foot on the land of the Swiftspear tribe."

This action stunned the old shaman.

In his mind, all humans were arrogant and haughty creatures.

Whether they were wielding sharp blades or carrying staffs, their attitudes were equally arrogant.

In fact, he had already rehearsed the script in his mind before even meeting the other person:

This young human lord would ride a tall horse and loudly proclaim some "declaration of sovereignty" in Cormier, or more directly, threaten the village with force to submit, or even demand tribute and enslave them like the servants of a black dragon.

To prepare for this anticipated scenario, he secretly recalled almost all the hunters who were capable of fighting.

The archers hidden on the rooftops and watchtowers, the strong men gathered behind the village entrance—these were all deliberate gestures he had made—a silent warning:

The Swiftspear tribe may not be as powerful as humans, and may be confined to swamps, but their teeth are still sharp enough to tear pieces of flesh from any invader.

Through the ancestral spirits and oral traditions passed down from generation to generation, he knew very well what had happened back then.

Over a hundred years ago, when Cormier's purple dragon banner was first planted on the northern Thun plain, humans flocked there like a tidal wave.

At the command of the Dragon Throne, dozens of nobles led tens of thousands of settlers and mercenaries, under the protection of the Purple Dragon Knights, to expand wildly along the banks of the Thun River.

In just fifty years, forests were cut down, hills were leveled, and five or six pioneer territories sprang up, compressing and fragmenting the lizardmen's hunting grounds.

The lizardmen of that time did not just hide in the depths of the swamp.

They also rose up in rebellion, gathering hunters from several tribes to raid human villages under the cover of night and burn their logging sites.

Timber yards and mines.

But what they received in return was the ruthless and efficient extermination by the Purple Dragon Knights and battle mages.

The armored torrent swept across the wetlands, and the flames of the battle mages descended from the sky. Many tribes were uprooted, and the survivors were driven like stray dogs into the deeper and more dangerous heart of the swamp, where they eked out a living in the mud and miasma.

Later, Cormier himself fell into internal turmoil, and coupled with the Arcane Calamity that tore apart the magic network, humanity left the Thun Plains.

But a century has passed, and the lizardmen have long been weakened and are no longer able to reclaim their lost land.

Their world shrank, shrinking into this swamp, and the main conflict shifted from "expelling humans" to an internal division over "whether to bow down to the black dragon."

So when the third brother heard that another human—that Viscount Haiyin—had returned to the Thun Plains to establish a territory, his first reaction was to gather hunters and prepare to strangle the human before he could establish a firm foothold, just like his ancestors had done.

However, he faced strong opposition from the younger generation.

The new generation of hunters, led by Acid Tooth, believed that the Swiftspear tribe was already exhausted from dealing with the encroachment of the Blackscale Clan and the black dragon behind them, and should not create another powerful enemy.

Moreover, those humans living on the plains had no direct conflict with the Swiftspear tribe deep in the swamp for the time being.

Looking into the young hunters' determined eyes, the old shaman realized for the first time: times had changed.

The younger generation has forgotten the past, and the current situation does not support him in making enemies everywhere.

Today, he had already prepared for the worst.

If Ye Wei'an showed even the slightest arrogance or contempt, he could seize the opportunity to ignite the old grudges in the hearts of his people and turn this meeting into an opportunity to demonstrate unity and courage to the outside world.

But the human in front of me—his tone was gentle, his posture equal, and he even possessed a sincerity that was impeccable.

The old shaman's brewing hostility vanished instantly.

He couldn't bring himself to utter those ancestral words about blood debt and revenge to a smiling face.

After a brief silence, the old shaman straightened his hunched back. He placed his right hand on his chest and smiled kindly—though it looked somewhat strange on that reptilian face.

"—You are well, esteemed human lord. The Swiftspear tribe welcomes—our neighbor who has come with goodwill."

Ye Wei'an immediately realized that this old shaman was by no means a reclusive, uncivilized witch doctor.

Among the lizardmen, rulers typically refer to themselves as "headmen," "shamans," or "chiefs," while "lord" is clearly a political title for human kingdoms.

When I spoke with Suan Chi before, I subconsciously used words like "chieftain," but the other person was able to pronounce it accurately.

The word "lord".

This shows that although he lived in the swamp, he had considerable intelligence channels and a deep understanding of the outside world and Cormier's political system.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the atmosphere gradually eased.

The old shaman stepped aside and made an inviting gesture: "Guests from afar, please come into the village. Let our fire pit and fish soup dispel the dust of your journey."

However, Ye Wei'an smiled and waved his hand.

"We appreciate your kindness, elder. But before entering the village," he turned and gestured, "please allow us to offer a small gift as a token of our sincerity as neighbors meeting for the first time."

As soon as he finished speaking, the accompanying knights immediately stepped forward, carried the several wooden boxes they had been carrying to the center of the village entrance, and opened the lids in full view of everyone.

In an instant, a dazzling array of sights was revealed to the lizardman villagers.

There were twenty iron spearheads, fifteen harpoon heads, ten skinning knives, and coarse salt, pepper, and ginger powder laid out beside them, as well as bronze mirrors, tin bracelets, glass bead strings, and so on.

These rare goods left the lizard people dumbfounded.

The lizard children gathered at the back were the first to lose their composure. They stood on tiptoe, their eyes wide open, staring intently at the mirrors and strings of glass beads.

These colorful little trinkets, like fragments of a rainbow, are truly captivating.

The female lizardmen stretched their necks, their nostrils flaring, greedily inhaling the pungent aroma of salt and pepper in the air. In the swamp, these things were more precious than gold, capable of completely washing away the lingering fishy smell of the fish.

The hunter warriors' eyes were fixed on the iron spearheads and harpoons.

It's steel!

Steel capable of easily tearing through the thick skin of a giant crocodile!

They knew all too well what these metal creations meant—it meant survival, more efficient food acquisition, and the means to survive the bloody battles against the Blackscale tribe.

Ye Wei'an watched all of this quietly, feeling satisfied.

This is exactly the effect he wanted.

In human kingdoms, a generous gift offered privately to the king or lord might be exchanged for a secret pact or a special license.

However, in tribal societies like the Xunmao tribe, where the power structure is relatively loose, true authority is often built upon broad public opinion and the support of warriors.

Privately currying favor with the old shaman may not win the hearts and minds of the entire tribe; but publicly displaying these benefits to the elders...

The generous gifts of women, children, and warriors were a message sent to every lizardman:

This human lord is a friend who brings tangible benefits, not an enemy who talks empty threats.

The old shaman slowly stepped forward and picked up a particularly eye-catching steel sword—a sample that Seras had specially chosen, with a long blade and excellent forging.

The old man lightly flicked the sword with the tip of his sharp claws.

"Zheng"

A clear, resonant metallic vibrato echoed at the village entrance.

The old shaman clicked his tongue in amazement, his vertical pupils flashing with undisguised admiration and wonder.

This is a sound that only the finest metals can produce, far superior to the scraps of rusted iron scraps obtained from the tribe.