Meetings and Legends

This line of research could not be more important. At this stage, all of the tribe's "functional trees"—including the Refrigerator Tree, Fruit Tree, newly developed Steel Tree, and the Weapon Tree derived from it—were essentially single-use.

Either they had simply been stripped of their ability to reproduce, like the Refrigerator Tree;

or their offspring inherited none of the abilities their parent plants had gained through "artificial" modification, becoming nothing more than ordinary plants.

This greatly constrained the tribe's use of "functional trees."

The Fruit Tree in particular—its fruit serving as food in a certain sense—would inevitably be in enormous demand.

Yet at present, improved Fruit Trees could only be obtained through witch doctors. The related spell was named Advanced Plant Modification, and it had considerable thresholds in "rune comprehension," "rune application," "precision," "self-hypnosis," and even "magic power." There were not many witch doctors capable of using it independently.

Thus, there was a conflict between the tribe's growing demand for "functional trees" and the "senior" witch doctors' need for personal time.

It was against this backdrop that the Head Witch Doctor took the lead in gathering several newly promoted witch doctors and witch doctor apprentices who were likewise interested in the matter to begin researching it.

Setting aside this research, which was destined to be a long one, after the basic needs of weapons and food reserves had been met, many matters that Blade Tusk had previously only been able to ponder in his heart could gradually be brought up for discussion.

That day, the small, shabby meeting room where the witch doctors held their seminars was filled with witch doctors both old and new, along with even more witch doctor apprentices.

"Blade Tusk... cough cough... must have called everyone here for a reason. Go on, tell us."

The Old Witch Doctor was already extremely aged. His voice lacked strength, and every now and then, his words were mixed with bellows-like coughing.

Yet his eyes were filled with unusual comfort. Especially when facing a room packed full of younger generations, the joy on his face was impossible to suppress. Even the trembling hand gripping his cane seemed to have gained a little more strength.

A Troll's life could roughly be divided into three stages: the growth period, the prime years, and old age.

Of these, the prime years were the longest—far longer than the growth period and old age combined.

Once they passed their stable prime and entered old age, a Troll's physical functions would undergo a cliff-like decline.

However, this decline would not directly leave a Troll feeble with age. Rather, upon reaching a certain critical point, their bodily functions would stabilize once more within a limited range.

The strength of that critical point and the length of time it could be maintained depended on how heavily the Troll had overdrawn their body in youth.

Generally speaking, the more often a warrior regenerated severed limbs and fought beyond their limits, the weaker their body would be in old age and the shorter their period of stability;

while witch doctors, provided they did not encounter situations requiring them to cast spells at the cost of their lives, generally retained greater physical strength and a noticeably longer stable period.

But no matter what, elderly Trolls were still capable of labor such as gathering fruit and processing meat;

only at the very end, when death truly drew near, would a Troll's body display symptoms so severe that they could not even sit steadily.

Like the Old Witch Doctor now—though he was merely sitting still, he still had to lean on his cane just to barely support his body.

That meant final death was already near. The Old Witch Doctor did not have much time left.

Alas... no one can avoid the day when it comes.

With a silent sigh, Blade Tusk stopped dwelling on it. Gathering himself, he spoke.

"After everyone's efforts over countless days, the tribe can be said to have laid down its first foundations."

As he spoke, he saw the expressions of pride mixed with worship on the young Trolls' faces.

"Yes, the tribe's progress is plain for all to see, and pride is only natural. But there has been too much praise in our daily lives already. Today, I do not wish to sing praises for myself, or for anyone else. Instead, I want to say something discouraging."

He paused slightly, giving the confused young Trolls a moment to react before continuing.

"I must remind you all: we have foundations, but they are unstable. They can hardly withstand nature's tests."

Hearing this, the reactions of those present differed completely. The three veteran witch doctors seemed thoughtful, while the other young Trolls who had grown up in recent years were somewhat dismissive.

Of course, this "dismissiveness" did not come from thoughts like, "Sir, times have changed." Rather, they truly trusted Blade Tusk and the changes he had led.

Those countless achievements had convinced these younger generations that, under Blade Tusk's leadership, no force could possibly destroy the tribe.

"Put those thoughts away. First, listen to a story."

Blade Tusk swept his gaze across the room and spoke again.

"A very, very long time ago, when the Old Witch Doctor was still young, the Tusk Tribe did not actually live on this land."

"Deep in the Black Forest, far from where the tribe is now, there was a more fertile land."

"There, after an ancient tribe developed over untold years, it eventually became a massive force with several thousand warriors in their prime. Several thousand adult Troll warriors—do you know what kind of power that was? Old Witch Doctor, do you still remember that tribe?"

"Mm... I remember. When I was young... one of their hunting parties clashed with us, and several of their warriors died."

Seeing how difficult it was for the Old Witch Doctor to speak, Blade Tusk could not bear it and took over again.

"Yes, you once told me that several members of that hunting party escaped. Later, they led two hundred fully armed warriors in retaliation, relentlessly hunting our hunting parties, seizing their prey, and ultimately forcing us to migrate to this corner where we live now."

"That's right. They were far too powerful."

"Yes. Look—without Refrigerator Trees, they could support so many warriors, and even dispatch two hundred core fighters to harass outsiders. What does that signify? Who can tell me?"

"It means they may have mastered a method of obtaining food that was far more efficient than hunting," a young witch doctor apprentice answered.

"You are correct. I am sure everyone has personally experienced what kind of impact a revolution in food acquisition methods can bring."

"The same applies to other tribes. Look at their attitudes toward tribesmen who died or were wounded, and how they responded afterward."

"Whether it was the speed of their retaliation or the ruthless precision of their methods, both proved that they had, to some extent, broken away from 'savagery' and entered a certain stage of 'civilization.'"

"A tribe like that must never be underestimated. Even if they had not formed a systematic force of spellcasters, who knew how many witch doctors they had who cast spells with Magic Crystals? Even their warriors' will and sheer numbers alone would have been enough to destroy us as we are now."

"And yet... such a colossal force was almost wiped out overnight."

"Amid the shattered walls and ruins, bloodstained Magic Beast tracks were everywhere, and scattered about were fragments of Troll corpses. A tribe that commanded several thousand warriors had simply vanished."

Blade Tusk swept his gaze over the lost expressions on the young faces and spoke gravely, "And this was the ancient threat from the Black Forest—the beast tide."

"Legend says that when a tribe grows powerful enough to upset nature's balance, the will of the Black Forest will send its retribution, sweeping away those greedy plunderers of nature."

"Now tell me—when faced with a beast tide made up of hundreds, even thousands, of Magic Beasts of every rank, could we withstand it? Faced with the charge of thousands of warriors, could we withstand it?"

The youngsters dearly wanted to say yes, but the fact that they were sitting here meant they were not reckless fools.

At that moment, no one could give such an obviously absurd answer.

"Enough. Why are you frightening them? Tell us what you think." The Head Witch Doctor, who had weathered many storms, merely smiled and spoke as he stroked his beard.

He felt that the legend and the beast tide had to be considered separately. The legend was far too vague; there was no use dwelling on it.

As for a beast tide, there was even less cause for concern. This backwater did not have enough Magic Beasts to form one. They only needed to worry if the legend was true.

But even if the legend was true, the tribe in its current state was not yet worthy of receiving "nature's retribution."

So there was absolutely no need to worry excessively about such matters now.

Of course, the fact that the Head Witch Doctor had waited until now to speak also revealed part of his stance:

First, it was fine to prepare for a rainy day;

Second, these little fellows really had gotten a bit too full of themselves.