Chapter Twenty-Nine: Kliya

At dawn, when all living things breathe anew and the morning light is gentle, several figures darted and chased one another through a riverside forest. If one looked past the lush trees that obscured the view, it became clear that these were tribal warriors clad in animal skins, pursuing a massive wild boar.

The boar was enormous, its body the size of a great tiger, and its sharp tusks gleamed menacingly. Normally, it was a tyrant of the forest, but now it appeared pitiful, fleeing for its life from a band of humans.

Upon closer inspection, each person in the group wore a thin armor of woven vines. The leader among them stood out, donned in dark armor seemingly crafted from wood, wielding a long spear that shimmered with a dim, mysterious light—an imposing sight.

He charged ahead, fixing his gaze on the boar. With a silent invocation, divine power surged through him, filling his body with strength. Then, as the boar continued its desperate escape, he hurled his spear with all his might.

The spear traced a pale green arc through the air, unwavering in its course, and pierced the beast’s body. It drove straight through, pinning the boar to the trunk of a great tree, leaving no doubt that its life had ended.

“With a prize like this, everyone at tonight’s festival will get an extra share of meat,” the leader laughed heartily, his voice full of cheer.

“True enough,” another replied, grinning as he surveyed the enormous carcass. “But hauling such a beast back won’t be easy.”

“Ha! That’s nothing!” the leader declared, laughter booming as he strode forward. Before his companions’ astonished eyes, he effortlessly pulled both spear and boar from the tree, then, without so much as a breath of exertion, hefted the massive animal onto his shoulder.

One of his companions let out a sigh. “Kreya, your strength is something to envy.”

“We all worship the great god of nature, yet none of us have mastered even the basic art of wooden armor. Our armor must still be made by the tribe, while you are far beyond us.” An older man spoke with a note of wistfulness in his eyes.

But Kreya only shook his head and replied, “We are all devout followers of the god of nature; there’s no need for comparisons.”

“Besides, though I excel in battle, your talents are no less valuable. Without your scouting and healing along the way, we’d never have made it this far.” He grinned, his expression open and sincere, clearly believing every word.

At his words, the others smiled and nodded, and though some envy lingered in their hearts, much of it faded.

Once they had gathered their belongings, they paused to look at the ancient tree, now bearing a gaping wound from Kreya’s spear. They exchanged glances, and one among them stepped forward, casting a healing spell that radiated vibrant life over the tree, slowly mending its injury. Then, together, they performed a silent ritual, invoking their divine arts to commune with the consciousness of nature itself.

This was both a ritual and an act of gratitude.

Since their conversion to the worship of the god of nature and the awakening of divine gifts, all initiates gained the ability to commune with the spirits of the world, feeling the life force that pervades all things.

Over time, as their communion with nature spirits deepened, these practices became tradition within the tribe.

After their earnest prayers, they sensed, as if from afar, a faintly affectionate presence emanating from the ancient tree—a weakened, indistinct spirit that signaled its forgiveness. They understood then that the spirit of the tree had forgiven them.

With that, they packed up, lifted the boar’s body, and began their slow journey homeward.

Nearby, a youth materialized, his form bathed in a gentle light—it was Chen Ming.

He watched as the group departed, his gaze lingering especially on Kreya. Above Kreya’s head, a faint golden fate hovered, hazy and indistinct, connected by a thread of clear light to Chen Ming’s own fortune.

“So, they’re wild tribes from the wilderness?” Chen Ming mused as he watched Kreya fade into the distance.

During the time Chen Ming had been away, Grama and the others had not been idle. Across the vast wilderness, countless tribes, large and small, were scattered—some dwelling in caves, others in mountain valleys.

These wild tribes generally lived in hardship and weakness, gathering in small groups across the wilds. The tribe into which Chen Ming had been reborn was, by comparison, faring quite well. Protected by Chen Ming, its people could live in relative peace, facing only the usual dangers of the wild.

But for the wild tribes, fortune was not so kind. Those numbering in the hundreds might manage, but the scattered bands of dozens were always in peril. Nightly ghosts and wraiths, demonic beasts lurking in the wild, and even rumored cannibals—these unpredictable threats could annihilate an entire tribe in an instant. Thus, life for the wild tribes was far harsher than for the settled clans.

After Grama came to power, he welcomed these wild tribes into the fold, swelling the population with outsiders. Once Chen Ming’s teachings were spread vigorously among them, many new followers emerged. Though most could not match the devotion of the original villagers, among the thousands there were always a few whose faith and innate sensitivity set them apart as true prodigies.

Kreya was one of these. The son of a wild chieftain, he had led his people to seek refuge with the Assur tribe after his father’s death, taking the lead in worshipping the god of nature and successfully awakening divine gifts.

Watching Kreya’s retreating figure, Chen Ming’s thoughts shifted to Kuruba. Months had passed since Kuruba’s body and bloodline were transformed into that of a god’s descendant—he wondered how things had developed since.

Unknowingly, he arrived at the foot of an altar.

Surveying the surroundings and recalling the journey, Chen Ming nodded with satisfaction. “Judging by the scene, Lages and Kules have done well.”

On the way, Chen Ming had noticed that within several miles of the tribe, not a single ghost or evil spirit could be found—they had all been thoroughly purged. The constant growth of merit within his soul was proof enough of their accomplishments.

With a thought, he willed himself into a vast divine realm.

Sensing his return, the realm trembled as his spirit entered, and a surge of divine power enveloped him.

The ripple of divinity did not go unnoticed. In a grand hall, Lages paced, frowning. “Who dares trespass upon the divine realm?”

Meanwhile, Kules acted with far less hesitation. Sensing the disturbance, he led his spectral soldiers directly to Chen Ming.

Upon recognizing him, Kules breathed a sigh of relief. Lages soon arrived as well, and both knelt in prayer. “My Lord.”

Chen Ming nodded in acknowledgment, then, with a mere thought, the panorama of the divine realm unfolded before him.

Where once there had been barren land, countless spirits now toiled—some planting trees, others sowing grain. Within the village boundaries, several small shops had even sprung up.

Admittedly, the crops grown here could not truly nourish the soul, but they served as comfort and gave the idle spirits something to occupy themselves, preventing the settlement from descending into idleness.

At the village center, dozens of spirits, sensing the familiar divine radiance that cloaked Chen Ming, knelt with excitement. Upon closer inspection, he recognized them as new followers who had died in recent months and been drawn into the realm.

“You have done well,” he said sincerely, glancing at the two men before him.

“This is all thanks to the great power bestowed by our god,” Lages replied without a hint of falsehood—his heart was utterly sincere.

Compared to Chen Ming’s effortless creation of a realm capable of sheltering thousands of souls, all their labors seemed insignificant indeed.

Chen Ming nodded, not taking the praise to heart, and with a thought, divine power surged forth to envelop the two men.

The holy power washed over their forms, purifying and transforming them to a new state. As their souls were cleansed, glowing like flawless crystal, a wave of spiritual pressure emanated from them, forcing nearby spirits to retreat—they had been forcibly elevated by the divine to the next rank.