Chapter 66

Chapter 66

Inside the pitch-black, slightly damp tent, Aman and the tribe’s Shaman fell silent at the same time after hearing Han Lie relay Qin Ying’s viewpoint.

Han Lie watched their faces carefully, and it clicked.

As the people directly involved, it wasn’t that they’d never considered it.

It was just that people always instinctively dodge responsibility-and conveniently polish up their own actions.

That kind of mindset was exactly what let them shove their guilt onto something else.

Qin Ying could only see a sliver of the tent’s roof through the gap between the two mountains.

But from the unnatural silence inside the tent, she knew she’d guessed right.

She didn’t feel any real sense of accomplishment.

In a low voice, she asked Han Lie, “Do you think what they did wrong was breaking the rules?”

Han Lie’s already-straight back went stiff.

The answer was hard to say, but he knew it wasn’t.

Villages had been destroyed one after another.

People had died one after another.

Rolling waves of yellow sand had buried countless lives.

And the reason behind it all was the sharp blade of the Imperial Court forcing them onward from behind.

It was harsh governance that left people no way to live.

Han Lie stayed silent. Just when Qin Ying thought he wouldn’t answer, he said, “No.”

In the quiet of the tent, Han Lie’s sudden voice made Aman and the Shaman look over together.

Han Lie raised his head to meet their eyes.

Their skin was cracked and charred, revealing red-black flesh. Their unhealed wounds were smeared with crushed medicinal herbs, the paste soaked through with pus.

But none of that suffering was because they’d “rebelled against the rules.”

They were only trying to beg out a path of survival for their Tribe.

Han Lie looked at them, but his words were meant for Qin Ying:

“Breaking rules to survive isn’t a fault.”

“The real wrong is demanding ninety-nine stalks of Fresh Immortal Grass every year.”

The wrong lay with the person who issued that order.

And with the ones who used blades and axes to force the Sand People to carry it out.

Aman and the Shaman both shifted, visibly affected.

Aman lifted a hand wrapped in filthy bandages and pressed it to the right side of his chest in salute.

He didn’t speak, but the faint hostility he’d shown Han Lie earlier faded by a lot.

Outside the crate, Qin Ying nodded in satisfaction-her Little Wolf Dog Vicar still had a clear head.

She let out a small “Mm,” as if praising him, then said to Han Lie, “Then what are you waiting for? Win them over!”

Before Han Lie could even respond, Qin Ying added, “Hold some kind of ceremony!”

“Just light a brazier, set up a table-anything!”

“This Supreme Deity right here will bring down a rain!”

Qin Ying said it so lightly it was practically offhand.

Han Lie glanced at Aman and the Shaman.

Qin Ying didn’t know the Sand People all had their own faith. The Shaman in front of him, for instance, was among the Believers of the Heaven and Earth God.

The Sand People were stubborn; they likely wouldn’t agree to worship an outside god and switch their faith within the Tribe.

Han Lie lowered his eyes and thought for a brief moment, then asked, “I heard your Tribe believes in the Heaven and Earth God?”

When it came to religion, the one most familiar with it was naturally the Tribe’s Shaman.

The Shaman-still scorched from lightning-dragged in a heavy breath. “Yes.”

Han Lie asked again, “Has the Heavenly God ever shown signs when you were trapped in hardship?”

The question was undeniably offensive. If Han Lie hadn’t just earned a bit of goodwill with what he said earlier, Aman would’ve drawn his curved blade and fought him on the spot.

The Shaman asked, displeased, “The Heavenly God has always been watching us, guiding the road ahead.”

Han Lie ignored the unfriendly looks and pressed on. “Then has the Heavenly God ever sent you rain? Ever given you rice and grain?”

Aman was so angry he laughed. “So the god you Great Xia people worship just sends you rain and throws you rice and grain?”

He meant it as sarcasm.

But Han Lie looked up, his face full of seriousness and devotion. “Yes.”

“Our god not only sends rain and provides rice and grain-our god also brought us medicine.”

“Even glycerin enemas. The kind you squeeze in to make you go.”

“And our god subdued the Disaster Beast Fuzhu, repaired the city walls in a single night, and brought us Monstrous Beast tendons and Toad Venom piled up like a mountain.”

“Even on the road to the city of Golden Saddle, we relied on the deity’s protection the entire way.”
A string of Sand People tribal curses burst from Aman’s mouth.

This Central Plains man before him was handsome enough and looked decent, so why was he talking such utter nonsense?

If gods truly existed, they should be high and mighty, viewing all living things as mere straw dogs! This man wasn’t talking about a god; he was talking about someone’s doting mother!

Aman thought Han Lie was joking with him and grew angry. “Stop talking like a madman!”

Hearing Aman’s irritation, Han Lie remained perfectly serious. “Whether I am talking like a madman or not-do you dare to try?”

“We’ll try!”

Aman truly did not believe that a deity could actually be manifested!

Having successfully goaded him, Han Lie’s expression remained unchanged as he asked, “Let us make a wager. If the Supreme Deity grants us rain, what will you do?”

Aman’s temper flared even more at the man’s continued nonsense during such a life-or-death crisis. “What are the stakes?”

Han Lie straightened his back and said in a deep voice, “A wager of faith. If I win, I want the Sand People to convert and believe in the Supreme Deity.”

Aman’s eyes widened slightly at the mention of these stakes.

Before he could answer, the Shaman, who had remained silent until now, asked, “And if you lose?”

“If I lose, you may do with me as you wish-execute me by a thousand cuts, or by sword and axe.”

After a long silence, the Shaman’s raspy voice drifted from the tent: “The wager is accepted!”

Once Han Lie left the tent, Aman finally couldn’t hold back and asked the Shaman why she had agreed to such a bet.

The Shaman gave him a silent, sidelong glance. “What do we lose if he fails?”

Aman was speechless.

“And if he wins?” the Shaman asked again.

Aman did the math. If things truly went as Han Lie said, they would receive water, food, and so on.

It didn’t seem like a losing deal, but… changing their faith?

Aman scratched his itchy face, feeling a bit conflicted.

The Shaman looked at him wordlessly. “Go and help this soldier named Han Lie prepare the sacrificial rites.”

The Heaven and Earth God she had so piously believed in had never once responded to her in her moments of desperation.

By comparison, if a Supreme Deity could bring actual rain, what was the harm in believing?

“Go, help that man Han Lie.”

The Shaman struggled to catch her breath before giving her final command: “Take three stalks of Immortal Grass to serve as offerings.”

***

Because of this wager, the ritual to worship a foreign god was quickly organized within the Tribe.

In less than fifteen minutes, a crude sacrificial altar had been set up where the shadows of the rocks met the sunlight.

It consisted of two stones and a wooden board, with two torches planted on either side.

The only offerings were the three stalks of Immortal Grass kept by the village.

The Immortal Grass had been dried into medicine, making it look dusty and wilted.

While Yao Grass was meant for longevity and replenishing one’s essence, the effect of Immortal Grass was to heal physical trauma.

If not for the village’s supply of Immortal Grass, the Shaman and Aman could never have survived such severe burns.

Immortal Grass was undoubtedly precious, but… only three stalks placed on a table for a sacrifice?

Aman was sweating just looking at it. He couldn’t help but ask Han Lie, “Isn’t this a bit… careless?”

This setup was even worse than what they used to worship their ancestors. What kind of Supreme Deity would have such a lack of grandeur?

Han Lie was feeling incredibly guilty. He couldn’t exactly say that the altar had been built under the Supreme Deity’s direct guidance.

“The Supreme Deity’s intent is to save all living souls; she generally doesn’t care much for… formalism,” Han Lie said, his mind racing to find an excuse as he used a term he had heard from Qin Ying.

It was a pity Chief Clerk Li wasn’t here; otherwise, the man surely could have spun a wealth of profound meaning to praise the deity.

Aman’s lips trembled. “But this is just too careless.”

Even children playing house had more of a sense of ceremony when deciding who would play the father!

Following the principle of not easily exposing her real name, Qin Ying had only instructed Han Lie to set up a nameless divine tablet.

“No Divine Name either? Can this really communicate with the heavens…”

The latter half of Aman’s sentence caught in his throat as the sky turned dark.

A massive shadow cast itself over the yellow sands, as if their village were being held in the palm of a giant’s hand.

Standing in the shadow of the rocks, the Shaman’s hand trembled as she looked up at the sky in shock.

A Divine Descent!