Chapter 29: The Vulture Tribe’s Secret Poisonous Plot

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“The Dove Tribe, what a sinister scheme—this is to have you die by your own people's hands? If you truly went through with it, and the truth came out later, wouldn’t you be doomed to live in endless regret?”

The shaman was furious. Just a little thought sent chills down his spine; such a method was too vicious.

“This must be a way to test the totem.”

The shaman understood well: once the totem showed a sign of weakness, the wolves would surely pounce.

With this in mind, the shaman could no longer doubt Ye Chen’s words. Before this, how could he not have his suspicions? No matter how eloquently Ye Chen spoke, he had indeed slain Spirit Bamboo, and even acted against the chieftain—anyone with a shred of sense would be wary.

But now, facts proved that someone was indeed lurking in the shadows, spying on the tribe with ill intent and murderous designs; Ye Chen’s warning had become reality.

Moreover, the shaman himself did not want the supposed battle between Ye Chen and Spirit Bamboo to have been a premeditated, greed-driven internal strife. As long as there was a reasonable explanation, he didn’t need Ye Chen to say more—his own subconscious would persuade him.

Of course, this all presupposed the shaman’s basic trust in Ye Chen, which only took root after his mind had been twisted by recent events.

“How strange. Testing the totem is one thing, but if they could wipe out all the tribe’s able-bodied youths, then even if the totem survived, the tribe would have no hope.”

A hint of doubt flickered in the shaman’s eyes. As for Ye Chen, he understood perfectly the Dove Tribe’s intentions.

In the most desperate circumstances, the totem could abandon the tribe—though the cost would be great, and it would not happen under normal circumstances.

But if the totem survived, it remained a serious threat to the Dove Tribe.

A desperate, cornered totem was not what the Dove Tribe wanted. The Bamboo Tribe was teetering on the edge of collapse; one more push and it would be finished, hope extinguished. At that point, the totem would become a lone wolf, and even more dangerous.

“How greedy.”

Ye Chen understood: the Dove Tribe was bold and arrogant, wanting to finish everything in one stroke and erase the Bamboo Tribe entirely. Only by utterly dismissing the Bamboo Tribe could they afford to let some of its youths live a while longer.

“They want to exhaust the totem’s vitality as much as possible.”

Ye Chen sneered inwardly. “To restore those young men, the totem must intervene.”

“So, on one hand, they’re testing the totem’s remaining strength; on the other, they seek to drain it further. Clearly, they have more tricks prepared—they won’t stop here.”

“Unfortunately, there’s one thing they miscalculated.”

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Ye Chen was not Spirit Bamboo. It was the totem, Spirit Bamboo, who had dealt with the Dove Tribe before. Their entire plan was built on the premise that the totem was gravely injured. In the end, their efforts would likely be in vain.

Still, it was a cunning plan—almost too clever. Without Ye Chen’s unpredictable presence, once those manipulated youths reunited with the old and weak, chaos would erupt. If even a few survived, it would be pure luck.

If luck failed, they could all perish in an instant.

Yet, while the Dove Tribe believed themselves hidden, plotting against the Bamboo Tribe, they didn’t realize that Ye Chen, too, remained in the shadows. It was only a matter of who lost patience first and revealed themselves—when that happened, the outcome would likely be catastrophic.

“After something like this, if we do not retaliate, what right do we have to enjoy the tribe’s offerings?”

Hate brimmed in the shaman’s eyes. Although the young men of the tribe had recovered, most were like quails—crushed, their confidence shattered, uncertain when they would heal. Physical wounds were easy to mend; the psychological scars would linger. How could the shaman not feel heartache?

Ye Chen shook his head and said solemnly, “Don’t rush to your deaths. The one behind this will likely grow impatient and come to us.”

“Waiting for the enemy to come to the tribe makes them easier to deal with.”

Though as a deity, Ye Chen was less restricted than a totem, he did not wish to reveal this advantage.

A totem’s power, once extended beyond the tribe, would be greatly diminished. Ye Chen, however, was special—his domain as the Dream God existed in the Void Realm, which was not fixed or immovable. In other words, he could carry the Void Realm with him to face the enemy.

This gave Ye Chen a significant advantage.

“They’re coming,” Ye Chen’s eyes glinted as he saw another large herd of wild boars charging toward them.

He was a little surprised. “Could the one behind this have some means of controlling those boars?”

“They look fierce—perhaps one of them has broken free of its limits and become a demon beast.”

The shaman was shocked by Ye Chen’s words. “But we’re at the outskirts of Demon Ridge—there shouldn’t be any demon beasts here.”

“There’s nothing to fear from a demon beast. In the wild, it might be troublesome; but since it has come to us, it’s just so much pork—a true blessing. If there really is a demon beast, its flesh will be a great boon.”

The wild boars drew closer. Among them, one was enormous, shrouded in a thin layer of demonic qi, which was gradually taking shape. When it reached a certain intensity, the boar would shed its mortal shell and be transformed.

That was the Boar King, rampaging at the forefront.

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“But why are the wild boars arriving in three waves?”

The thought flashed through Ye Chen’s mind, but he didn’t dwell on it. The Boar King looked fearsome but was still one step away from truly becoming a demon beast.

“What a pity—the Boar King is destined to fall short.”

Ye Chen felt a touch of regret.

“Killing them won’t be difficult.”

With a single thought, the Void Realm descended, and the world around them changed in an instant. Before the wild boars, a massive cliff materialized.

The boars, charging furiously, slammed on the brakes so hard their hooves nearly snapped.

The Boar King, with some intelligence, widened his eyes and looked around in confusion.

Something wasn’t right. How had a cliff appeared here out of nowhere?

The Boar King surged with demonic energy, and the cliff, as if made of paper, rippled like a calm lake struck by a stone. With a pop, the illusion shattered.

It was a trick. The Boar King, furious, bristled so much his hair stood like arrows.

At that moment, a spirit butterfly fluttered gracefully into view, its wings beating in the air. The Boar King froze.

With a whoosh, golden light gathered, coalescing into sword-light. The sword sang as it traced a line across the Boar King’s neck, and its head tumbled to the ground.

The Boar King had not even had a chance to wreak havoc. Before it could show its might, it died a wrongful death.

Normally, the Boar King would not have been so slow-witted. Even if doomed, it would have put up a lengthy fight. But now, with a heavy thud, it crashed to the earth, blood gushing from its severed neck like a fountain.

With the Boar King dead, the other boars were doomed as well. Ye Chen slaughtered them with ease.

He wielded dream and illusion, turning reality upside-down and confusing the wild boars. Before they could even react, they perished in utter silence.