The Hero in Hibernation

Kazhan, the young leader of the Redstone Tribe, touched the amulet hanging on his chest before striding into the hall built of mud and stone.

At this moment, a group of former kings, city lords, and khans, whose average age was more than double his own, were engaged in passionate, lengthy discussions.

The Sandfolk, who seemed to have evolved directly from reptiles (though they were actually mammals) into bipedal intelligent beings, were covered in scales and lacked sweat glands. They often had to stick out their large tongues to dissipate heat, so they never truly "sweated profusely." However, if it weren't for the Great Elder sitting quietly at the head of the hall, one might have thought he was sweating profusely.

Indeed, the Sandfolk, whose civilization had only just evolved to the classical city-state era, were in a state of heightened martial spirit and volatility. Some were former leaders of nomadic tribes, others were rulers of city-states who considered themselves kings. None would yield to the other, and when words failed, they resorted to drawing blades.

However, the aged Great Elder was not only the spiritual and religious leader of the common Sandfolk but also the true foremost expert among them. Despite his benevolent, elderly appearance, he had, on more than one occasion, crushed chieftains and "kings" when angered.

Kazhan, a junior among the leaders, offered a slight bow to the Great Elder at the head of the hall. He then found a corner seat. Before he could even settle in, a loud, hearty voice boomed, "Waiting, too long! Want war, war, war!"

The speaker was Modor, the Great Chieftain of the Red Lake Tribe. This chieftain, who led the most powerful nomadic tribe among all the Sandfolk, was getting on in years. Though still brave, his mind had begun to slow, and he wasn't very proficient in the "Common Sandfolk language."

Oh, by the way, the Common Sandfolk language was precisely what their Spiritual Leader, the Great Elder Hessen, had spent ten years compiling, combining various Sandfolk languages. He had always believed that a unified language would lead to a unified race and better integration with advanced civilizations in the universe.

It must be acknowledged that the Great Elder was quite farsighted.

However, it was tragically ironic that the Sandfolk's simple, early pictographic writing could not handle the information volume of the Great Cosmic Era. The so-called "Common language" already contained a large number of transliterations and textual variations from the Empire, the Alliance, and even Earth languages.

It was truly sad, but that wasn't the main point.

"It's not time yet. Our goal is still to force the Earthlings to negotiate with us!" replied Hanrat, the King of the Black Mountain City-State. He had cities, territory, and a throne, and had always had a complicated relationship with the Governor's Mansion. With so many entanglements, his desire for conflict was naturally not strong.

"Even if we are to fight, we must wait until those cannons are set up and can blast through Tulon's shield. They will surely surrender," said another City Lord.

"Yes, we demand a share in the profits from the sale of spices and ore. We can't always let them set the prices! Oh, right, and we need to be allowed to live and travel in Tulon, no, in the Galactic Homeland!" said a seasoned Lord, earning nods of approval from the crowd.

But, isn't this our homeland? Why are so many of us gathered here for such a purpose? Is there a difference between begging on the ground and begging while sitting on the ground? Kazhan couldn't help but think.

In reality, most of the "kings" and "city lords" of the city-states were like this. The Governor's Mansion and merchants "hired" cheap labor through them and obtained inexpensive spices and ores, so their lives were naturally quite comfortable. The city-state lords now lived in domed villas with built-in climate control and greenhouse gardens, drinking fine wines from the Empire and watching popular dramas from the Alliance, living the happy life of modern wealthy shut-ins. Meanwhile, the slaves still toiled for over fifteen hours a day in mines where they couldn't stand up or plantations where scales could be shed by the sun, yet still struggled to ensure basic sustenance for their families.

"Scum!" a chieftain jumped up and roared.

"Lizards in a sand dune!" another chieftain slammed the table and cursed.

"Leeches in a cave!" an ancient, decrepit Sandfolk chieftain, as if suddenly twenty years younger, shrieked hysterically, emitting the loudest sound since the argument began, startling even Kazhan beside him.

"We have millions of soldiers at our disposal, why should we kowtow to others? When will those things be ready?" a slightly younger chieftain said. His "Common language" was much more fluent.

"Great Elder, let us fight!" he earnestly requested Great Elder Hessen, his face filled with fervor and courage, looking as if he were ready to rip out his own heart to prove his sincerity and drench everyone in his passionate blood.

"But it's not time yet... Our forces are not fully deployed, we don't have a complete attack plan, we don't have cover from heavy weapons! Why not wait until the agreed-upon heavy artillery positions are built and all weapons and forces are in place?" Kazhan felt this guy was like a frilled lizard spreading its frills, ready to mate, and wanted to retort, but at this moment, the Great Elder, who had been silent all along, nodded expressionlessly and said coolly, "Do you all want to fight?"

"War! War!" Modor practically did an awkward war dance, jumping up and down.

"Then let's fight," the Great Elder nodded.

"Great Elder, we cannot fight..." The lords jumped up, attempting to dissuade him, but the Great Elder cut them off with a single sentence: "Or do you want to go persuade those thirsty warriors yourselves?"

The lords had nothing to say and could only retreat dejectedly. The chieftains, having received the answer they wanted, left excitedly. Only Kazhan, who was not happy, left the stone hall with a heavy heart. He could already see the fate of the warriors and almost broke down in tears... Well, actually, Sandfolk don't have tear ducts. Their way of expressing extreme grief is to vibrate their bone membranes and emit very heart-wrenching, long vibrations, which sound like whale songs and are quite pleasant.

Kazhan was disappointed, disappointed in everything – disappointed in the lords, disappointed in the chieftains, and even more disappointed in the Great Elder, their Spiritual Leader. He wanted to lead his subordinates away, but at that moment, someone discreetly called out to him.

"The Teacher wishes to see you. Chieftain Kazhan."

The one leading the way was one of the Great Elder's most gifted disciples, a psionics named "Wind Fist."

The young Kazhan was led by this young Wind Fist through a back door into the stone hall, which was also the Great Elder's private residence. However, as soon as he entered, he was hit by a pungent medicinal smell that made him want to flee on the spot.

Looking at a corner of the stone hall, a female Sandfolk with beautiful azure scales was preparing medicine. Seeing Kazhan enter, she grinned at him, revealing her fangs and tongue, and offered a (to Sandfolk eyes) sweet smile.

Her name was Miyun, another gifted disciple of the Great Elder who had awakened her psionics.

Just as Kazhan was about to return a polite smile to this renowned beauty among the Sandfolk, the Great Elder spoke directly, "You can take your people and leave, but remember to pack your belongings when you return, bid farewell to your kin, and make arrangements for the aftermath."

Kazhan froze on the spot.

"I have already spoken with our collaborators. We will select a group of young and promising individuals to study abroad. Various universities and even military academies are options, but you will have to pass the entrance exams yourselves, so you'll have to start with preparatory schools. From now on, you must diligently study the Common Alliance language." The Great Elder paused, then took out a bracelet-like information terminal and handed it over: "Inside is an Alliance language dictionary and a set of elementary academy textbooks. Start previewing them in your free time."

Kazhan, dumbfounded, accepted the technological artifact that was so out of place with his surroundings. He mechanically listened to the Elder's earnest teachings: "Yes, the Empire still has strict restrictions in this regard, so you can only study in the Alliance. However, you must remember to keep a low profile. Many of you resent humans... I cannot make you distinguish between Earthlings and Gaeans, but in the Alliance, every action you take represents the image of the Sandfolk. You must lead those young people and set an example for them!"

The young chieftain finally came to his senses, "But, Elder, I..."

"Whether it is victory or defeat, this place is destined to be a meat grinder. Talented young people should not have their lives wasted here." The Great Elder shook his head and interrupted the young chieftain.

Kazhan was deeply moved but still voiced his confusion, "But why did you agree to the proposal of Great Khan Modor and the others? You know how reckless it is..."

"Even if I didn't agree, wouldn't they have acted on their own? I am just a Great Elder, not their king. They are all chieftains of nomadic tribes and have not had much involvement with the Human Governor's Mansion. Is their participation in this war truly for the honor of liberating their Sandfolk brethren? Or is it to charge into that city and commit acts of violence and plunder? If killing and looting are their true objectives, how could they possibly wait until the city-state lords have prepared everything? Kazhan, you are also a nomadic chieftain, you should understand, shouldn't you?"

The young chieftain was speechless.

"Since that is the case, it's better to let them probe the situation of the Earthlings. At least, by the time the heavy artillery positions are built and the full-scale attack begins, we will be prepared."

Kazhan had to admit the Great Elder made sense, but precisely because it made sense, he felt even more heavy-hearted and sorrowful.

"I am old. I would be content if this major war could force the Earthlings to concede. Yes, Kazhan, Hanrat is right. We don't actually have the ability to drive the Earthlings away completely... But you are different, Kazhan. You are young, strong, passionate, sincere, and possess a calmness and composure rare for your age. You have countless possibilities, you have a future, so you must bear a greater responsibility!"

"We cannot go extinct. Young man, it is precisely for this reason that I have used all my influence to gather so many warriors willing to die. Let this battle be our Sandfolk's first cry in this universe! As for what comes after, that will be up to you."

Kazhan looked at the aging Sandfolk leader, his heart filled with a thousand words but unable to utter a single one.

The Great Elder's body was no longer as erect as it once was, his scales had begun to turn gray, his eyes were somewhat blurry, and he even required medication for his health year-round. Yet, he was now more powerful than he had ever been, more so than in his youth.