Chapter 18 Trap

The night wind stirred, the grass and trees made noise, and a small figure deftly entered Ian's home. He had walked this path many times and naturally made no sound.

But soon, the figure's nose twitched, and he became alert, raising his hand to signal the other shadows behind him to stop their steps and advance no further.

He smelled the scent of blood.

Different from the blood of beasts, the smell of human blood was special. The Shaman of the Son of the Forest was familiar with this pure scent, and although the blood contained too many acquired impurities, it was still far cleaner than that of any wild beast.

Whose blood could it be? Could it be that Ossenna finally slaughtered his slightly older nephew?

The figure did not hear the voices of Ossenna and the others. His keen hearing told him that there was only a young child breathing slowly in his dreams inside the room—the designated sacrifice, the child named Elan.

"Ossenna..."

The figure was somewhat displeased, his whispering accent peculiar and ancient, carrying the rawness of the barbaric forests, yet it was undeniably the language of The Empire.

It was agreed that both nephews would be handed over, the Holy Sacrifice required the blood and innards of the purest and most naive, as well as the flesh and brains of the strongest and most resolute. The Spirit of the Mountain Tide would only accept these two types of offerings.

Indeed, Ossenna was untrustworthy.

——Never mind.

Standing still, the figure only pondered for a moment before shaking his head slightly.

So long as it wasn't the youngest who was killed, it wasn't a problem. Eight or nine-year-old children were not uncommon, and even though the defenses at Harrison Port were rather strict, they could still abduct a few from the nearby fishing villages and towns.

Since Ossenna was not in the house at the moment, he was probably dealing with his nephew's corpse...

"What a waste, even if it's not fresh, a child's innards are still premium sacrifices, and the flesh, squandered."

With regret, the figure felt hunger in his belly.

Only those who regularly consume flesh and blood can unlock the power of blood's origin.

Only when well-nourished will the power of the origin flow from the deep wellspring of flesh and blood within the body, just as the spring water must be abundant to gush forth from its source.

However, resources in the tribe were scarce, and few ate meat. Someone like him, who had only just started on the path of the Shaman, could not guarantee a full belly every day.

And as for the supreme blood of humans, the Great Shaman often said, by consuming the flesh and blood of the brave, one could gain their strength.

While the blood of children lacked power, it excelled in purity.

"What a pity it's been wasted."

He shook his head slightly.

Since Ossenna was not around, he would take away the young child. After all, the addict who craved hallucinatory mushrooms just wanted black mushrooms. The tribe would still need him as an intermediary, to continue acquiring resources within the port.

Thinking this, the figure moved towards Elan's room, his steps light.

——Then, he stepped into a trap Ian had set for Ossenna.

In the coastal area where heavy rain was frequent year after year, the foundations of the immigrants' homes were never stable, and the floors consisted only of a layer of stones and planks for cushioning. Only the newer houses built in recent years would use solid stone foundations and rock brick walls.

Ossenna's house was, of course, not a new one; the earth beneath its foundations had long ago collapsed and sunk, leaving the wooden board suspended in the air, with a pit full of mud water underneath. Ian had modified it slightly to make the board break underfoot, below which were sharp sticks and a small fish-scaling knife stuck upright in the soil, acting as a trap to pierce the foot.

Little did Ossenna know, he wouldn't need this trap at all, as he was easily subdued by sleep powder—never experiencing the carefully crafted design Ian had prepared for him. Instead, an unintended beneficiary stumbled into it.

"Ah—Mmm!!!"

In an instant, the man's foot was pierced by the knife, and he nearly cried out in pain. However, being a shaman among the Redwood Natives, he was mentally resilient and managed to suppress his scream at once.

This was Harrison Port after all, and while he could infiltrate it, drawing attention did not mean he could easily return unnoticed.

Moreover, the fish-scaling knife was covered in rust and filth, and the pit was full of dirty mud water. If he didn't treat the wound immediately, not only would movement be hampered, but he might also fall victim to the curse of the Rust Soil Spirit, leading to spasms and possibly death.

"Be careful! The house, traps!"

He immediately instructed the three hunters behind him, who were tense and had already begun to draw their weapons, looking around vigilantly, ready to respond to an attack, to stop in their tracks. The young shaman didn't have time to ponder why there was a trap there; he squatted down at once, attempting to pull the knife out from the sole of his foot to treat the injury.

—No, why was there a trap? Was it set by Ossenna? But who could it be for? Were they the intended targets?

Impossible, how could that mushroom-snorting wretch stand a chance against them and their sole channel for black mushroom powder... Could it be to ward off thieves?

But even so, that seemed far-fetched... What thief would target such a run-down house...

It had to be said that the house gave the native shaman great unease, and things seemed to be slipping out of control.

Meanwhile, at the same moment, Ian, with his newly found mentor, Hiliard, was approaching his own home nearby.

It had to be said that Ian was quite pleased at this moment, although he remained composed on the surface.

"The effect of Spirit Energy is indeed clear and definite, the golden impact exceeding my imagination."

Just by going to the lakeside to bury a body and bathe, he had chanced upon a teacher who at first glance seemed mysterious and possessed of great secrets!

Although Hiliard had said nothing, Ian could guess that a man worn by the years, weathered by travel, who had evaded the clutches of The Empire for over a decade, must have some real skill and a story behind him.

Not only that, but he was nobly principled and maintained his principles even when interacting with someone who seemed to be just a child, like Ian.

On their way back to Harrison Port with Hiliard, Ian noticed that the other's gait had an undeniable military aspect, which, while entirely different, reminded him in terms of demeanor of the starfleet warriors he had seen in a former life.

He might appear to be an ordinary man, and he openly admitted to having been gravely injured, with his current strength far diminished from before, yet once he must have been a formidable knight.

And just before, Hiliard had explained to Ian why he was staying in Harrison Port... Ian was already aware that a cataclysm was impending around the Southern Sea, and Hiliard was there to address that cataclysm.

It was ironic that a wanted fugitive on the surface was actually considering the welfare of The Empire's subjects. It was quite poignant.

—Why indeed would such a noble knight of certain strength come to be a nationwide fugitive, wandering and chased? A good question!

But honestly, Ian didn't care in the slightest.

Just as he had told Hiliard by the lakeside—he indeed needed a new uncle, and the other man certainly needed a new identity. A young child needed an adult to rely on, even if that person could not show his face, and the adult needed the child to disguise his own identity.

A win-win situation.