Chapter 21: Wild Boars Wreak Havoc, Destroying the Homeland

“There is still a bamboo seed with the shaman.”

“For now, let it remain with the shaman. If I were to destroy that bamboo seed, the shaman’s mental state might truly collapse.”

Ye Chen gave little thought to the bamboo seed. Even if the spiritual bamboo were to be revived, it would be wishful thinking for anyone to snatch the initiative from his hands. For Ye Chen, the greater threat was Ning Peach Blossom’s hidden schemes.

Whenever Ning Peach Blossom came to mind, Ye Chen’s heart filled with gloom. “Leaving tricks in my Dreamworld, are you forcing my hand to retaliate?”

The Dreamworld was of utmost importance to Ye Chen, especially after he became the God of Dreams; it was now his domain, his seat of authority. It was much like a lake god’s lake or a mountain god’s mountain—off-limits to outsiders.

But Ning Peach Blossom had only left a trace of her true self as a contingency in the Dreamworld. Dealing with that wasn’t out of the question. Yet Ning Peach Blossom’s true form was capable of withstanding lightning—this forced Ye Chen to swallow his indignation for now, feeling stifled but not daring to act rashly.

“Trouble is coming to the tribe.”

A flicker of thought crossed Ye Chen’s mind, pushing aside his worries. Truth be told, his current situation was already quite stable. No matter how things played out, he was now on the right path—accumulating incense and vows, raising his divine rank in due course.

Indeed, trouble had arisen in the Bamboo Tribe.

“Chief, something’s wrong. A lot of wild boars are headed this way!”

Ye Chen saw the members of the tribe rushing in panic to find their chief, all gathering at the peculiar bamboo house.

Ye Chen gazed at the bamboo house with a meaningful look, but was not surprised by the actions of the shaman and the chief. He was not overly strict—he judged by deeds, not intentions. As long as the chief did his part as a tool, Ye Chen cared little for his inner thoughts.

“Bamboo Spear, you’re saying a lot of wild boars are coming? What is going on?”

The chief had just been about to leave the bamboo house when Bamboo Spear burst in, his heart sinking.

The tribespeople all had similar names—Bamboo Spear, Stone, Oak, and the like.

Bamboo Spear’s face was filled with panic. “We had all scattered to rest for the night and arranged for guards. We never expected a huge herd of wild boars would charge the tribe. Fang is leading some to stop them, but we can’t hold them all back.”

“This must be revenge—the wild boars are retaliating because we caught one of them before.”

Wild boars were social beasts and fiercely united. If they learned that one of their brothers had been slain by the Bamboo Tribe, it would be no surprise for them to come seeking trouble.

A single wild boar was already a challenge, though manageable. But a herd of wild boars was a grave matter.

The shaman wanted to ask more, but the chief said, “No need for questions. Bamboo Spear, lead the way. There’s no time to waste—we must aid them at once.”

The shaman did not argue; there were other matters to discuss, but with wild boars causing chaos, those would have to wait. The only uncertainty now was what Spirit Butterfly would do.

The shaman harbored deep hatred for Spirit Butterfly, but reason overpowered anger. At this moment, it was hard to say whether the shaman hoped Spirit Butterfly would intervene or not.

“If Spirit Butterfly takes action, dealing with the wild boars would be effortless.”

But one could not expect to receive incense and vows by sitting idle, after all.

Bamboo Spear was badly wounded, blood flowing, but there was no time to worry about that. As he prepared to lead the way, he suddenly shivered, his words faltering.

“They’re here—the wild boars are here!”

There was no need for further explanation. The chief looked up and saw six large wild boars and three smaller ones, all charging madly. Dust billowed along the ground as if bulldozers were plowing through—it was a terrifying sight.

“A herd of wild boars—this is real trouble.”

Ye Chen shook his head. With the boars charging like this, some tribespeople were bound to be lost.

That would not do. Ye Chen willed forth a surge of incense and vows, which rushed into the chief’s body. The old frame was suddenly filled with vigorous strength, coursing through every fiber of muscle and blood.

The chief showed no fear. Holding his bone knife, he was eager to try his strength.

He glanced up at the altar. With Spirit Butterfly willing to intervene, his confidence soared.

In truth, if he were ten years younger and at his peak, the chief would have handled the wild boars himself—no need for Spirit Butterfly’s help. His strength had never been lacking, which was why, in times of danger, people always sought him out—forgetting how old he’d become.

If Ye Chen had not intervened, sending the old chief against wild boars would have been sending him to his death.

“Since they dare to wreak havoc in the tribe, they have chosen their own doom.”

If Spirit Butterfly’s divine power were truly unleashed, the wild boars would be nothing. But Ye Chen chose not to do so.

“Is it because I am different from a totem? By rights, the wild boars, though only beasts, are sensitive enough not to charge into the tribe. The tribe is a totem’s domain; to intrude is suicide. Instinct should keep them away.”

“But as a god, these wild boars are ignorant of me. They know only of the totem, but nothing of who I am. No wonder they come seeking death.”

The strong naturally inspire fear. In the wild, some predators can make prey’s legs go weak just by their presence, leaving them helpless—falling right into their jaws. But as the God of Dreams, all of Ye Chen’s divine aura was hidden within the Dreamworld.

Wild boars, as mere beasts, could not sense the Dreamworld. No wonder they were so brazen.

Ye Chen chuckled. Ah, once the spiritual bamboo withered and the totem’s deterrence faded, his own domain would not affect the tribe as before.

“Still, wild boar meat delivered to the door isn’t bad. For the tribe to grow stronger, a steady supply of meat is essential.”

Ye Chen was already considering the tribe’s future—even if it was through the chief’s hands, not his own, he would not stand idly by.

He did not rush to use divine power to crush the wild boars.

As long as the tribespeople were not in mortal danger, Ye Chen would not act. Besides, if he killed all the boars in an instant, the tribe would feel no threat—how could they feel grateful to him then? Ye Chen understood well.

The chief rushed after the wild boars.

The shaman hesitated. Having suffered humiliation from wild boars before, he knew his limits—charging in would only bring more shame.

He was long past his prime; fighting wild boars with just flesh and bone would be foolish. The shaman did not dare.

At that moment, a warm current surged within the shaman’s body.

“Spirit Butterfly.”

A flicker of surprise crossed the shaman’s mind. He did not expect Spirit Butterfly to bestow totemic power upon him.

“Hmph! If I attack, I can not only deal with the wild boars but also exhaust Spirit Butterfly’s totemic power. Two birds with one stone—I’ll make Spirit Butterfly feel the pain and relieve some of my own grievance.”

Of course, this was merely self-deception, but what else could he do? Unable to oppose Spirit Butterfly, the shaman could only nurse his resentment in secret. He dared not make a bold show of words, not out of fear for himself, but because he would not place the tribe in jeopardy for his own sake.