Chapter 749: The Half-Farming Tribe’s Female Shaman Who Plays the Victim
The central house of the Half-Farming Tribe was knocked down. The tribe’s leader, frozen stiff and wide-eyed, was buried beneath it.
The half-subterranean houses of the Half-Farming Tribe were quite suitable for burying the dead in winter. No need to dig a pit — topple the house over.
Only the leader of the Half-Farming Tribe was honored with such an earth burial.
Although both sides were enemies, Han Cheng deeply respected the Half-Farming Tribe leader — a man who fearlessly sacrificed himself for his tribe.
Of course, this respect was only after the leader was already dead. Tʜe sourcᴇ of thɪs content ɪs noⅴelfire.net
Han Cheng fetched a blood-stained stick from the Half-Farming Tribe and stuck it in front of the leader’s simple grave mound to serve as a tombstone.
Standing there, slightly bowed and silent for a moment, Han Cheng gave the order. The Half-Farming Tribe members, tied into several groups and guarded by the Green Sparrow allied forces, trudged through the snow, heading west along the river valley.
All dozens of donkeys were taken away, not a single one left behind.
With so many people, plus sleds and donkeys, it wasn’t difficult to carry everything away.
All these spoils of war would be distributed once the allied forces returned to the Green Sparrow Tribe.
After everyone had left, a dozen or so people at the rear, including Shang, took torches and began setting fire.
With the dry wood piled around burning and the wind helping, the entire Half-Farming Tribe village quickly became a sea of flames.
Burning alongside the houses were the bodies of the deceased tribe members.
Flames consumed the corpses and the houses. Roofs collapsed, and black ash rose and scattered in the wind.
On the surrounding snow, besides the blood that had congealed, there were now falling ashes…
Watching the homes they had painstakingly built fall into flames, the female shaman of the Half-Farming Tribe suddenly felt a pain in her chest.
She looked back at the burning houses, dazed and lost, feeling as if her entire chest had emptied.
The houses they had built with such effort were destroyed. The last traces of their tribe here were erased.
Their tribe was going to disappear.
Many from the Half-Farming Tribe involuntarily stopped, staring at the fiery village. Some had tears in their eyes; others trembled uncontrollably…
Han Cheng, understanding and compassionate, did not urge them onward but stood quietly watching the blaze with them.
Others, seeing the fire, were also silent.
However, thinking that if they didn’t do this, the evil tribe would have done the same to their tribe, the heavy feelings in their hearts immediately disappeared.
Seeing the donkeys walking with the group and the sled piled high with food, their mood was no longer heavy; instead, there was a strangely uplifting feeling.
Old Yang, following the sled, clenched his fist, and his eyes shone as he looked at the fire.
Partly because the leader’s great vengeance was avenged, and partly because he was determined to contribute to the Green Sparrow Tribe.
A strong tribe, no longer bullied — it felt so good!
After watching the fire for a while, Old Yang’s gaze fell back on the sled before him.
On the sled was a tribesman who had fallen and was trampled to death, and also a jar containing some bones.
These bones were, according to a few who had never submitted, believed to be the leader’s remains.
Old Yang originally planned to burn this dead man along with the Half-Farming Tribe’s leader’s bones.
But the Divine Child disagreed.
The Divine Child said these were martyrs who died for the tribe. Their bodies shouldn’t be left behind, but should be taken back and buried around the tribe so they wouldn’t feel so lonely.
Old Yang had never heard this before, but after thinking about it, he felt the Divine Child’s reasoning made sense.
Their tribe’s people truly couldn’t be abandoned here. They should be taken back and buried around the tribe.
After joining the Green Sparrow Tribe, he had seen two mounds not far from the tribe, each marked with a wooden plaque.
It was said that two elders of the tribe were buried there.
Old Yang had often seen some tribespeople sit beside those mounds and sometimes speak to the wooden plaques.
If the leader was buried around the tribe, he too could sit by the land and speak to the plaques without trouble.
Besides that, Old Yang also felt the leader hadn’t completely left them.
Because at night, when he slept, he had seen the leader more than once.
The leader was still there, holding a whip, herding sheep, or leading tribe members to catch sheep.
He wasn’t the only one with such experiences — many in the tribe had seen the leader in their dreams…
The group trudged through the snow, following the path they had come from, heading west towards the Green Sparrow Tribe.
During the journey, due to the cold and previous injuries, some occasionally couldn’t keep going.
Each time, the devilish-looking leader — who didn’t seem very old — would halt the group, order the ropes binding prisoners to be loosened, and let those who couldn’t go on sit on those strange sleds pulled by deer that slid on the snow.
To help those who couldn’t continue, eventually even the highly respected devil got off the sled with its terrifying thunderous device and gave the seat to the struggling prisoners, choosing instead to walk on the thick snow himself.
Women holding children were placed on these sleds right from the start.
Under this devil’s order, some soft, warm furs were brought out to wrap the small children comfortably.
This act filled the Half-Farming Tribe shaman and the women carrying children with surprise and even a hint of gratitude.
How could they possibly feel grateful to these devils who had killed their people and burned their village?
Realizing this, the female shaman quickly pushed away this terrifying feeling.
After mulling over these thoughts in confusion, the female shaman suddenly collapsed…