"Little Crow! By our ancestors' witness! The clan chief swore a blood oath by the ancestors, so how could he harm you?"
"Eldest nephew, I, Peng Bage, swear it! Our Feather Clan not only has no grudge against you, we're two branches north and south passed down from the same ancestor... We're only passing through, only here to beg for a way to live! Once we leave, this village stockade will be returned to you exactly as it was, not harmed in the slightest! Having one more friend is always better than having one more enemy... Come on, eat something hot with us, sing a song from home!..."
"."
The vast night buried the slaughter of the day. The homesick song by the sea came to an abrupt stop, while the singing in the village stockade still drifted faintly from afar. On the small boat drawing near, Little Crow Xiteweiwei looked hesitant, gazing at the torches standing in the shallow water, and at Peng Bage's sincere face beneath the torchlight. He remembered this "uncle"; during the fighting in the day, he had thrown himself forward without regard for his life and had been very brave. He was a rare clan warrior, and did not seem like someone with too many flowery intestines...
"Cough!... Peng Bage... Uncle?... Great Uncle, is he truly going to return the village stockade to me? When exactly would that be?..."
"Blessings of the Three Gods! We'll stay a few days at most, and we wouldn't dare linger here long... Not only the village stockade at the river mouth, but also the goods in the warehouse, will all be returned to you exactly as they are! Oh, and the wounded Purepecha captives, we've treated them too. There are a dozen or so, and when the time comes,