Bluestone Tribe

Lin Yi followed Red Fox down the gentle slope, passing through the last sparse patch of shrubs. The soil beneath his feet gradually became level and firm, bearing the marks of countless trampling feet. At the end of the path, the tribe's entrance lay right before them.

There was no gate at the entrance, only two thick log pillars standing apart on either side. Ancient patterns were carved into them, resembling some kind of totem or symbol.

Lin Yi's Super Brain instinctively swept over those patterns, trying to extract some pattern or information from them. Five.

As he pondered the meaning of those markings, a figure suddenly darted out from behind one of the pillars.

It was a little boy, no more than eight or nine by the look of him. He wore a loose gray linen tunic, went barefoot, and had closely cropped hair that revealed a dark, round little face.

His eyes were bright, carrying the pure recklessness of his age.

The little boy spotted Lin Yi first.

Those eyes visibly froze for a moment as he looked the tall, skinny stranger in a grass skirt up and down. Confusion flickered in his gaze, as though he were thinking—

When had such a strange fellow come to the tribe?

Then he lowered his head and saw Red Fox walking ahead of Lin Yi.

That dark little face suddenly bloomed into a brilliant smile, dazzlingly bright.

"Little Flame!"

The little boy shrieked and shot forward like an arrow released from the bowstring.

Lin Yi only saw a blur before his eyes. The child who had been standing several yards away had reached Red Fox in the blink of an eye, scooping her up from the ground and rubbing his face against her as he held her close.

"You're finally back!"

Lin Yi stood where he was, the expression on his face frozen solid.

Wait. That distance, that sprint time.

And that familiar Chinese.

Lin Yi's Super Brain replayed the scene from moments ago in less than a tenth of a second.

The distance from where the little boy had started to where Red Fox stood was, by visual estimate, roughly sixty to seventy feet. From a standstill to arrival, he had taken absolutely no more than a second and a half.

By Earth's standards, even the holder of the hundred-meter world record would need more than a breath to cover that distance. Yet this child, who looked no older than eight, had done it as lightly as lifting a feather, without even gasping when he landed.

Lin Yi blinked, only then remembering the setting he had shoved to the back of his mind.

A cultivation world.

This was a cultivation world. There was spiritual energy, cultivation methods, and all manner of beings beyond common sense. And they even spoke Chinese.

So the little brat in front of him, hugging a fox and rubbing faces with her, was most likely a tiny monster ten times tougher than a modern corporate drone like him.

"...Fine." Lin Yi silently sighed inwardly, accepting reality faster than he had expected.

Over there, the little boy had already turned Red Fox over and checked her from every angle. His hands kneaded the fox's ears, paws, and tail as he muttered, "You ran off without saying a word," and, "Grandpa said you must have gone out to play again."

Red Fox—or rather, Little Flame—had narrowed her eyes from all the kneading, looking utterly calm and accustomed to it. The tip of her tail even gave a contented twitch.

The little boy's shouting soon drew the other people in the tribe over.

Standing at the entrance, Lin Yi saw figures emerge one after another from the stone-and-wood houses, gathering toward this spot in twos and threes.

Every time another person approached, the corner of Lin Yi's eye twitched.

These people... were all far too muscular.

Two middle-aged men led the way. They wore beast-hide vests, and their exposed arms were as thick as Lin Yi's thighs. Their muscles stood out in sharp definition; broad-shouldered and thick-backed, they carried a steady, oppressive presence as they walked.

Several women followed behind them. They were somewhat slimmer, but only in the sense that they were "a little thinner than those burly men." On Earth, every one of them would have been fit to enter a powerlifting competition.

Even a girl who did not look particularly old had clearly defined arm muscles. With a casual lift of her arm, those lines reminded Lin Yi of the biceps he had failed to build even after half a year of hard training at the gym.

And Lin Yi himself?

He was five foot ten, with the weight of someone who had spent all year collapsed in front of a computer. Without clothes, he was nothing but a skeleton draped in a thin layer of flesh.

Standing among these broad-shouldered, thick-waisted tribespeople now, he was like a malnourished bean sprout that had wandered into a herd of wild bulls.

Lin Yi felt the gazes.

They came from every direction—curious, scrutinizing, wary, and others simply there to enjoy the spectacle.

As more and more people gathered, those gazes wove into an invisible net, heavy with weight.

What made him even more uncomfortable was that although these people were merely standing there quietly sizing him up, he could vaguely sense some kind of... presence emanating from them.

He could not say what it was. It felt like an invisible pressure field pressing against his skin, his breathing, even his thoughts.

His brain spun at high speed, trying to analyze the source of that oppressive sensation. In the end, it could only arrive at a vague conclusion.

There was a force flowing within these people that he could not perceive, and the mere existence of that force formed a natural suppression against an "ordinary person" like him.

Lin Yi swallowed and forced himself to stand straight, refusing to show weakness.

The crowd fell silent for several breaths, then slowly parted to either side, opening a path.

An old man emerged from behind the wall of people.

He looked very old. His gray-white hair was like withered grass, the wrinkles on his face as deep as ravines carved by blades. His back was slightly bent, and his steps were slow.

But the moment Lin Yi met those eyes, every hair on his back stood on end.

Sharpness gleamed within those murky eyes, like an ancient well whose depths could not be seen. No ripples showed on its surface, yet instinct told you that something lurked beneath its waters.

The old man merely swept Lin Yi with a casual glance, and Lin Yi felt as though every one of his little thoughts had been dragged out into the sunlight and laid bare.

The old man stopped two steps away from Lin Yi, his hands tucked into his sleeves as he sized Lin Yi up from head to toe.

His gaze lingered for an instant on the absurd grass skirt. The corner of his mouth seemed to twitch almost imperceptibly.

"Young friend," the old man said. His voice was aged yet full and vigorous, carrying a warmth that made people want to answer him instinctively. "Where have you come from?"

The familiar Chinese made Lin Yi's heart skip a beat.

How was he supposed to answer? Say that he had transmigrated from another world and get treated as a madman before being thrown out? Say he was a traveler who had lost his way? But with his bare body hanging beneath nothing but a grass skirt, what lost traveler got lost badly enough to end up like this?

His mind raced, and in the end, he dredged up a classic trope from the countless webnovels he had read who knew how many years ago.

"...I don't remember."

Lin Yi put on a blank, bewildered expression, letting his eyes go just the right amount unfocused.

"When I woke up, I was in the forest nearby. I wasn't wearing... anything at all. I don't know how I got there, either."

He paused, then added, "When I opened my eyes, I saw this little fox... uh, Little Flame. She led me all the way here."

The old man did not respond immediately. He simply watched Lin Yi in silence, and a faint, unreadable glimmer flashed through those ancient-well eyes.

Lin Yi was not sure what it meant—disbelief? Investigation? Or something else?

But he knew that the old man had seen through him. He had not told the truth at all.

The silence lasted roughly three breaths. Then the old man suddenly smiled, the wrinkles across his face bunching together and making him appear much more benevolent.

"Since young friend was brought here by Little Flame," he said unhurriedly, "then you are a guest of my Bluestone Tribe. We shall naturally help however we are able."

The old man glanced once more at Lin Yi's grass skirt, whose leaves had already become crooked. After a pause, his voice carried a trace of irrepressible amusement. "If young friend does not mind, please come inside for a talk. You must at least change into a proper set of clothes first."

Lin Yi could feel the pressure in the surrounding gazes gradually fading.

The crowd's hostility and wariness seemed to have quietly dissolved by more than half after the old man's words, "brought here by Little Flame."

He secretly found it strange—Little Flame carried that much weight? What exactly was a fox's status in this tribe?

But now was not the time to dig into such matters.

Lin Yi cupped his hands to the old man. "Thank you, elder."

Sure enough, after he responded, the surrounding crowd dispersed like a receding tide.

Some returned to their homes. Some hoisted the farming tools leaning against the walls and headed toward the fields. Several women carried wooden buckets toward the well, as though the little commotion over a strange visitor had never happened.

Only the little boy remained where he was, Little Flame in his arms, his bright eyes staring curiously at Lin Yi.

The old man turned and headed deeper into the tribe. Though his pace was slow, his destination was clear.

Lin Yi took a deep breath and stepped after him.

As he passed the little boy, the child looked up at him, suddenly leaned closer, and lowered his voice. "You're someone Little Flame picked up! Little Flame never brings outsiders back."

Lin Yi froze for a moment and looked down at the Red Fox in the little boy's arms.

Little Flame nestled in the crook of the child's arm, her amber eyes calmly fixed on him. Her tail gave a light sweep, and her expression remained as indifferent as ever.

Yet Lin Yi caught something extremely faint and fleeting in those eyes—something like the composed certainty of a plan finally reaching its second step.

His heart lurched. He raised his head and looked at the old man's back as he led the way ahead.

The old man's spine was slightly bent, and his pace was neither hurried nor slow.

But Lin Yi noticed that the old man's right hand, tucked within his sleeve, seemed to be lightly rolling something between his fingers—as though calculating with his fingers, or as though fingering a string of invisible beads.

A flash of metal gleamed atop the towering wooden pillar at the center of the tribe, like a cold gaze landing precisely on the back of his head.

Lin Yi did not turn around.

But he knew that thing had been watching all along.