Chapter 118: Chapter 118: The Extreme Heat Zone
"Chief, what were you two discussing? Will they trade goods with us in the end?"
As soon as Weston stepped out, the red fox beastman immediately ran up, asking in rapid succession. Weston snapped out of his daze, looked at the red fox beastman once, and then said: "Go back and tell everyone to pack their belongings and come here; tomorrow morning we will go to Crimson."
The beastmen below froze. The little orange mouse clung to Weston’s leg, nimbly climbed onto his shoulder, and asked:
"Brother Weston, so we are not staying here anymore? We are going to join Crimson?"
Weston didn’t answer, only petting the little mouse’s head. The red fox beastman was the first to snap out of his stunned state, his face turning red with anger as he shouted:
"You are crazy, Weston! How could you sell out the tribe like that?! You are completely unworthy of the Chief position; we misjudged you!"
Weston said nothing, only striding away from Asher’s team’s campsite, heading toward his own tribe. His clansmen looked at each other in dismay, then quickly followed. Along the way, the red fox beastman kept making a racket incessantly, continuously hurling insults at Weston.
Upon returning to the tribe, Weston relayed his words once more. The red fox beastman couldn’t hold back anymore, shifting into his beast form to attack Weston. Of course, Weston didn’t let him succeed. He only needed one hand to subdue the red fox beastman, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him high up.
"Chief, please be lenient! Emmett is still young and ignorant..."
"He is already seventeen, Grandpa Micah! Seventeen is old enough to understand who the Chief of this tribe is!" Weston said coldly, then threw Emmett onto the ground right in front of the clansmen. He restrained his strength, so the throw wasn’t very forceful; the red fox beastman, apart from a bit of pain, wasn’t injured at all.
Emmett tucked his tail, his ears flattening into a straight line (airplane ears), and his four legs bending slightly. He was scared. Weston had always been very gentle before, so Emmett had forgotten that Weston could easily kill him if Weston wanted to.
This was the first time the people in the tribe had seen Weston so angry; no one dared to step forward to plead for Emmett anymore.
"Emmett, if you doubt my decision, you can just stay here. Otherwise, hurry up and get lost to pack your belongings. Don’t make me repeat it again." After Weston finished speaking, disregarding whether anyone objected or not, he immediately returned to his tattered tent, packing up everything that could be carried away.
Truthfully, this tribe, so poor they couldn’t even afford a single meal, had nothing worth packing. Weston’s most precious belongings were probably just a few torn animal skins used to cover his body, along with fire-starting tools, stone knives, and beast bone pots. Besides that, there were only a few teething toys for the little orange mouse.
When Weston took down his animal skin tent, folded it neatly, and looked up, he saw his clansmen holding their bundles and standing in a cluster. Even the unresigned red fox beastman Emmett was standing in the ranks.
Weston was a bit surprised. Before, when he was gentle and soft with them, he never saw them being this obedient. It turned out that Asher’s saying ’the Chief’s word is an absolute command’ carried such immense weight. Even though Weston had never coveted this Chief position, that didn’t stop a sliver of desire to enjoy the benefits that power brought.
"Is everyone here? Let’s go." Weston swept his gaze over everyone and said indifferently.
The Eldoria tribe didn’t have many people; counting the old, the young all together, there were only forty-eight people in total. When they arrived, the Crimson merchant caravan had already set up tents for them. Sorin stepped forward in front of the crowd and said:
"We don’t have many supplies, so we could only set up ten small tents. Everyone, split up and endure squeezing together a bit. After you finish organizing, come over here to help us cook dinner."
The people of the Eldoria tribe stared in disbelief at the brand-new tents. One must know that even during the tribe’s most prosperous period in the past, they never got to stay in such large tents. A spacious tent that could easily fit five people with room to spare was actually considered ’small’ coming from the mouth of that fierce-looking Sub-Beast?
Waiting until everything was cleaned up and organized, when they saw the Crimson people roasting an entire pig, using salt by the jar, boiling porridge by the pot, and even using ceramic pots to cook, the Eldoria crowd was practically stupefied. The red fox Emmett, holding a bowl of warm porridge in one hand and a pig’s leg in the other, stared blankly for a long time, unable to snap back to reality.
At night, when it was time to sleep, Emmett stealthily crawled over to Weston’s side, muttering: "Chief, I’m sorry..."
Weston glanced at him, threw firewood into the fire, and said: "From now on, call me Brother Weston."
Emmett’s eyes grew hot; he sniffled, replied ’Yes’, then plopped down next to Weston, staring fixedly at the fire.
Looking outside through the tent door, Asher said to Sorin: "Tomorrow, dispatch a team to escort them to Crimson. When passing by the other three tribes on the way, ask in passing if they have sent people to Crimson yet; if not, take them along together."
"Yes. I thought he would struggle a bit more; I didn’t expect this beastman to make a decision so decisively."
Asher lay down on the animal skin mattress, pulled the blanket over his body, and said: "He is not interested in power; he just wants his clansmen to have enough to eat."
Saying that, he closed his eyes. Sorin extinguished the torch in the tent, leaned back on his own sleeping spot, his sharp bone spear still gripped tightly in his hand.
The sky gradually turned into night; the space was so quiet that only the faint whispers of the night-watch beastmen and the croaking of frogs remained.
In another development, Aaron soaked himself in a tub of water, his tongue hanging out, panting heavily like a dog. The others were also using leaves woven into temporary fans, fanning themselves furiously. If Asher’s side experienced four seasons exactly like in Crimson, the place Aaron was stopping at right now only had a single season.
It was the sunny season, sunny all year round without a moment of respite. If it rained, it would only pour down for a short while before stopping, not even having enough time to soothe the heat.
"Good grief, it’s already midnight, why is it still this hot? The sunny season at our place doesn’t get this hot." A Sub-Beast couldn’t help but fan his fluffy tail. He had only been in this hot region for half a month, yet he was already sunburnt to the point of being darker than the Black Rabbit Ian.
Seeing the Crimson merchant caravan suffering like this, the newly arrived group also felt a bit of pity. They lived in this place all year round and were already accustomed to this intense heat, yet they still felt uncomfortable; it would be strange if these people from a temperate climate could endure it.
This place was close to the sandy desert, and water sources were very scarce. Their tribe frequently had to migrate to find places with water to live. This year, the desert sand encroached even further; just when they were on the verge of despair with nowhere else to go, Aaron’s group arrived.
Aaron didn’t even need to use flowery words to entice them; just by bringing out a bit of water and food, this group willingly followed him right away. In merchant caravan number two, there was an Ice-element Divine Energy beastman who had to continuously create ice these past few days, causing his entire body to become quite haggard.
Looking at the situation outside and judging the width of the sandy desert, Aaron made a decision: "We are no longer heading to the bottom of the semicircle; we will choose this place as our checkpoint and head straight north."
Hearing this, an elderly beastman among the newly arrived group tightened his fists slightly, his lips hesitating as if he wanted to speak, but in the end, he clamped his mouth shut, not making a sound.
Aaron was sharp-eyed and saw the hesitation in the elderly beastman’s eyes. He stepped out of the water tub, shook his fur to rid it of the wetness, then strolled leisurely to the front of the middle-aged beastman, asking: "Do you have something you want to say?"
The middle-aged beastman lowered his eyes, turning his face away: "It’s nothing, Captain."
Seeing this, a young Sub-Beast in the group edged closer to Aaron, using a voice as small as a mosquito’s buzz to say:
"Cap... Captain, his son was married off to a neighboring tribe about a two-day journey from here. Could you..."
"Sangi, say no more. Captain, I haven’t visited my son in a very long time; their tribe probably isn’t even there anymore."
Aaron flicked his ears, hummed in acknowledgment, and then returned to soak in the water. Just when everyone thought the route was decided like that, Aaron spoke again: "Tomorrow, let’s head toward the direction of his son’s tribe. It will only take an extra two days of travel; we can still endure this bit of heat."
"Yes, Captain." The Sub-Beast who had been complaining about the heat earlier was overjoyed. They also really wanted to suggest to Aaron about going to the tribe those people mentioned, but they didn’t dare to interfere with the captain’s decision.
Don’t let Aaron’s harmless-looking, all-day smiling demeanor fool you; this beastman was more sinister than anyone else in the tribe. Chief Sane even said that in terms of ruthlessness, Sane was slightly inferior to Aaron. For someone even the Chief had to acknowledge, they naturally didn’t dare to provoke him.
Early the next morning, when the horizon just lit up with a faint orange-yellow hue, the two Crimson merchant caravans in two different directions set out simultaneously. After another two days, Aaron’s group arrived at the location where that tribe named Starfall used to be. Regrettably, exactly as the middle-aged beastman predicted, the Starfall tribe was no longer there.
The Ice-element beastman sniffed his nose, then pointed in a direction: "Captain, there is some moisture in that direction; that place has probably moved out of the coverage area of the extreme heat."
Aaron nodded, deciding to head toward that place. After traveling for another day, the air indeed cooled down a bit; after traveling for three more days, they finally encountered the Starfall tribe, who were struggling to survive. This year, the extreme heat covered a wide area, coupled with the encroaching desert sand; their tribe managed to hold on for a while but eventually couldn’t endure it anymore and had to migrate.
During the migration, they unfortunately encountered a sandstorm, and one-third of the clansmen were swept away; then, they encountered wild beasts along the way, ultimately leaving only a scattering of over a dozen people. The middle-aged beastman’s eyes searched achingly among the survivors of the Starfall tribe, but he couldn’t see his son’s figure anywhere.
The light in his eyes extinguished, leaving only endless sorrow.
