Chapter 140
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Chapter 140: Title
Facing the hostile gazes of the tribal crowd, Leng Xingwen declared clearly, "May the guardian deity of this land grace us with its presence. I am Leng Xingwen, hailing from the Nine Provinces."
His tone carried balanced humility and confidence, imbued with graceful courtesy.
Yang Xingyu shifted uneasily behind him, whispering, "Will this foreign divinity even comprehend our tongue?"
Qiao Feiyu rolled his eyes skyward, refusing to dignify the naive query with a response.
The Ghost in Red maintained her impassive facade, scarlet robes undisturbed as she stared resolutely forward.
Though nominally the mission commander, Team Leader Yuan wisely held his silence amidst the charged atmosphere.
Just as anticipation began fading into disappointment, an imperceptible ripple shuddered through the air. Above the thatched roofs, ectoplasmic vapors coalesced into radiant manifestation. The milky-white mist solidified into a winged tiger whose partially unfurled pinions stretched like frozen storm clouds behind its muscular frame. Its alabaster fur gleamed beneath the jungle sun, save for the piercing jade orbs serving as eyes.
The Special Bureau operatives exchanged meaningful glances. While expecting animalistic divinity from their briefings, none had anticipated such…modest presentation for a revered totem deity. The Analysis Department’s reports proved accurate yet again – this Kabatu deity might suffice against ordinary people and lower-tier practitioners, but its spiritual pressure barely warranted classification as divine.
"Outsiders…" The growl resonated through their bones before transforming into intelligible speech midair, confirming the universal translation ability shared among higher entities. "…your presence defiles sacred ground."
Leng Xingwen flourished his folding fan in ceremonial greeting. "Honored one, we seek only dialogue between civilizations. Let our hands bear olive branches rather than blades."
Yang Xingyu noted the diminished hostility with relief – clearly their Young Master’s reputation preceded him. When the spectral tiger remained silent, Leng Xingwen pressed gently, "By what title shall we address Nature’s chosen guardian?"
The ensuing pause stretched taut with unspoken histories. Countless fools had perished here since the Awakening of Spiritual Energy – thrill-seekers ignoring governmental warnings from Zhongxia and beyond. Natural selection worked swiftly in deity-claimed territories. Even the Special Bureau couldn’t justify casualties from willful recklessness.
"KABATU!" The roar sent tribal banners snapping violently. "Sovereign of Canopy and Root! Defender whose claws purge invading defilers!" Rippling fury hinted at transgressions beyond mere trespass.
With diplomatic channels opened through Leng Xingwen’s silver tongue, further negotiations fell to Kabatu’s human priest. The deity itself dissolved into swirling mist, abandoning the outsiders to tribal escorts.
Yang Xingyu’s hand drifted toward hidden weapons as they passed scowling totem warriors. His tension eased only when noticing the cage – its human occupant sparking fresh questions. "What crime condemns someone to that?" he murmured, drawing sharp looks from their guides. Young Master Leng’s subtle headshake warned against premature inquiries.
After a closer inspection, it became clear these weren’t mere illusions—the cage indeed imprisoned people! Not just any people, but golden-haired, blue-eyed Westerners.
Though disheveled in appearance, their unbroken vitality suggested they weren’t ordinary individuals… which aligned with logic, as no common folk would venture here.
"They are our captives."
The previously silent priest glanced at Yang Xingyu as he spoke. Though his accent carried peculiar tones, the words were unmistakably Chinese.
Yang Xingyu had assumed no comprehension of his speech, already devising communication strategies. The revelation that this primal priest spoke an external tongue—let alone the notoriously complex Chinese—left him astonished.
"…Your captives? What becomes of them?"
The question held rhetorical weight, given their recent encounter with a jungle squirrel containing a captive’s tortured soul.
Sacrificing captives could only occur in such remote primitive jungles. Elsewhere, any deity demanding blood offerings would be branded an "evil god" without exception.
"They shall be honored as offerings to the Kabatu deity."
Qiao Feiyu’s face twisted in revulsion at the priest’s declaration, an expression mirrored by others. Only Leng Xingwen and Ghost in Red remained impassive—the former maintaining his faint smile, the latter his frosty detachment.
As the group observed the prisoners, a young Westerner extended his hand in recognition, waving deliberately.
Yang Xingyu leaned toward Qiao Feiyu, murmuring, "That foreigner acts as if he knows us."
Qiao Feiyu’s gaze flickered between the captive and Leng Xingwen. "You mistake the subject," he corrected. "His recognition lies with Young Master Leng."
"Which faction claims him?" Yang Xingyu whispered conspiratorially.
Qiao Feiyu frowned. "What?"
"Western troublemakers are few," Yang Xingyu elaborated with an eye-roll. "This one reeks of power beyond ordinary extraordinary individuals. Place his origin."
"The United States," Qiao Feiyu shrugged. "Their meddling knows no borders."
Captain Yuan noted the captive’s peculiar behavior but held silence. Not from indifference—even willing, rescue here proved improbable.
Upon reaching the tribal center, the priest turned abruptly.
"My God commands your hosting. Have your queries answered, then depart swiftly."
"This land rejects your presence."
"Naturally," Captain Yuan stepped forward, diplomacy coloring his tone. "Our stay shall be brief."
The frail priest mattered little—but the deity looming behind him altered all calculations.
However minor the Kabatu deity’s domain, its wrath remained potent within these borders.
Two hours later…
"Surprisingly decent juice," Yang Xingyu remarked, savoring the sweet, pulp-free liquid. Noticing Ghost in Red’s distraction, he proffered fruit. "Red-clad senior, perhaps a taste?"
"Unnecessary." The reply came glacial.
Observing the preoccupied elder, Yang Xingyu’s gaze shifted to Young Master Leng. With buoyant steps, he approached…
"Young Master Leng, what holds your gaze? Care for some fruit?"
Leng Xingwen accepted the fruit, lightly tossing it in his palm before responding.
"My attention lies upon that altar."
Yang Xingyu followed his companion’s line of sight toward the distant stone platform. "What merits such observation?" he inquired, brows furrowed in puzzlement.
The priest had earlier clarified this structure’s sacred purpose for Daoist rituals, strictly forbidding casual approach.
"Unnaturally pristine," Leng Xingwen murmured.
"Pardon?"
"Consider this – captives become divine offerings, altars serve as sacrificial stages. Yet here lingers neither ghostly energy nor resentment, nor even residual traces of blood essence or fractured souls."
His whisper carried only to Yang Xingyu’s ears as autumn leaves brushed the temple grounds.
Qiao Feiyu perched on a circular wooden stool, ostensibly assisting Captain Yuan while stealing glances at the distant conversationalists. The captain himself stood deep in negotiations, his diplomatic overture slicing through the ceremonial smoke.
"Might we examine your captives?"
Priest Mudo’s weathered face hardened like sun-baked clay. "They are consecrated offerings to My God – battle honors earned by our warriors’ valor."
"Peace, honored priest." Captain Yuan’s smile strained at the edges. "Mere curiosity motivates this request."
The captain mentally cursed bureaucracy’s oversight – a seasoned diplomat would have persuaded the priest without a hitch. Still, he resolved to assess the prisoners’ strategic value before committing to action.
After an eternity measured in firefly pulses, Priest Mudo inclined his head in momentary trance before rasping, "The blessing is granted."
As the inspection party departed, across the compound another discussion unfolded.
"Young Master Leng suggests… denied reincarnation?" Yang Xingyu’s whisper trembled. "Even before the Awakening of Spiritual Energy, we understood…"
"Uncertainty remains," Leng Xingwen countered, his gaze shifting toward approaching crimson robes. "Senior Ghost in Red’s perspective?"
The spectral figure’s gesture encompassed the whispering jungle. "Observe the hollow-eyed squirrels. This hunger consumes more than human souls."
Her scarlet sleeves billowed in the windless air. Not a trace of avian or beastly souls lingered either.
