Tidings of Disaster

Spirit Rise was not actually high ground. It was quite spacious, and its name represented an ancestral legacy, for the history and culture of the Tauren had been preserved here.

This sacred land had witnessed so very much. It had witnessed rituals to the Earth Mother, feasts celebrating the harvest, warm and tender weddings, and ceremonies mourning the ancestors...

Generations of Tauren had listened to wisdom and teachings here, sharing knowledge and happiness.

But this paradise filled with memories had already been destroyed.

By the time Tamara and her group finally arrived, Spirit Rise had become a dreadful battlefield.

The grass and trees had been burned away, the tents set ablaze. Charred ruins had collapsed with a crash after lightning strikes and cave-ins. Some broken walls still clung with biting frost and foul corrosive energy, while the once-beautiful pebbles and grassland had become as pitted as the surface of a meteor.

Aldo was filled with regret. The moment they had passed through the most intense fighting, he had recalled his companion.

The little white owl had flown for an entire night, and the old hunter simply could not bear to make it keep going.

Everyone knew that owls were nocturnal creatures, yet after the hunter reluctantly recalled it, the little fellow quickly fell asleep. That alone proved it had reached the limits of its exhaustion.

The battle seemed to have ended only recently, yet neither side was anywhere to be seen.

Tamara dropped to one knee and pinched up a small bit of scorched soil, bringing it beneath her nose. In the distance, Sian was doing the same.

The three hunters rose to their feet and confirmed their findings with one another.

"The scent of blood is faint," Sian said gravely.

Tamara frowned. "That means there may still be survivors."

"Saving people comes first. Time is precious, so let's split up." She looked toward Aldo and forced a smile. "Old friend, we'll leave reconnaissance and support to you. Be careful!"

The old hunter patted his chest and laughed. "Don't worry. If anything urgent happens, I'll notify you right away!"

"That's right. No matter what happens, we must stay in contact." Tamara nodded. "Xiao Na, come with me."

She hesitantly looked toward young Sian, a hint of pleading in her eyes, and said softly, "Good disciple, I'm leaving my foolish son to you. Keep an eye on him. Don't let him act rashly. Please!"

"Of course!"

Ignoring Baine's furious expression, young Sian knew this was his master's trust in him, so he nodded with complete confidence.

He returned to the others, patted Liman's large head, then rubbed his forehead against the Kodo Beast's rough scales as he seriously bid him farewell.

Liman looked at his master with watery eyes, seeming deeply reluctant to part.

Looking into those adorable big eyes, Sian remembered the day Liman had first been born. The poor little fellow had struggled bitterly for an entire night as well.

It had been a snowy night. His mother had stoked the stove until it glowed red, while his father snored away, sleeping like the dead.

The frigid wind howled through the straw shed, making young Sian shiver, but he had no desire to move. The huge egg had been trembling nonstop, and the little creature inside could be born at any moment.

His mother had not scolded him or told him to go back to the tent to sleep. She had only brought over a small stove and a warm coat.

Milk steamed atop the stove. His mother poured him a full cup, draped the coat around him, and sat with him in the straw shed, watching over the trembling egg all night long.

When the first rays of An'she's Light illuminated the grasslands, the damp little beast had just broken through its shell, looking weak and listless.

His mother had taught him hand over hand how to deliver little Liman with a warm towel. Young Sian had rushed about without seeing any improvement and had nearly cried from anxiety, but his mother smiled and comforted him, telling him he would surely pull through.

Young Sian had anxiously asked his mother whether she had suffered like this when he was born.

His mother had smiled and shaken her head.

Then she had spoken words he would never forget for the rest of his life. "Silly child, your birth was the happiest moment of my life. How could there have been any suffering?"

He clearly remembered that at that moment, amid the cold winds of the early winter plains, little Liman had let out his first cry upon entering the world.

In the blink of an eye, that little creature had grown into such an imposing giant, yet Sian still felt that he had not truly grown up.

"Thank you for carrying us all this way. Stay here and behave. Listen to the teacher. I'll come back for you."

Sian softly bid the Kodo Beast farewell, and Liman raised his head and answered with a gentle low growl.

He solemnly placed Liman's reins in Aldo's hands and said reluctantly, "Please, make sure you take good care of him!"

"Don't worry. I know how to keep the big fellow comfortable!"

Aldo smiled and reached to scratch the Kodo Beast beneath the chin, only for Liman to look utterly disgusted and repeatedly try to shove away his wandering hand with the hard horn on his snout.

The old hunter laughed awkwardly. Young Sian shook his head helplessly, soothed Liman a little more, then set off with Baine.

Watching the two depart, Tamara sighed.

No matter what, she had failed in her duty. As an adult, she was actually sending three young calves into mortal danger.

Yet Aldo smiled. "Don't worry. This won't be too much for them."

He said with feeling, "Growth requires experience. You should have a little more faith in your students."

"Is that from your own experience?" Tamara gave a bitter smile and shook her head.

"You could say that. You should trust the professionals."

Aldo lightly patted his companion's shoulder and smiled. "Besides, judging by the current situation, there are almost certainly no enemies left here. At most, there might be some traps. I believe they can handle them."

"I know, but..." Tamara sighed, unable to find anything else to say.

"Don't worry. Like I said, you need to trust them more." Aldo stroked his chin and smiled. "As a teacher, I know where to draw the line."

"What is this? It looks like something is wrapped inside."

Baine curiously extended a finger, intending to poke the strange thorny vines, only for Sian to smack his hand away.

"Don't be so careless. Do you want your hand to rot off?" Sian said unhappily. "Can you behave yourself? Like Master said, you need to listen to me!"

Baine rolled his eyes and gestured for him to go first.

Sian crouched down, drew an arrow, and lightly scraped it across the surface of the vines.

But something unexpected happened. The arrowhead began corroding rapidly the instant it made contact. Burn marks spread all the way down it, and if he had not quickly thrown away the shaft, his palm might have been burned.

The two young Tauren immediately turned grim.

Sian said seriously, "Go send the signal. I'll think of another way!"

Baine nodded and immediately ran back. Sian remained crouched where he was, drew another arrow, and slowly infused it with Arcane magic.

Then he gently stabbed the magic-infused arrow into the vines.

The Arcane energy took effect. The moment the violet light touched the sinister blackness, they began a fierce struggle. The vines split apart like melting snow, but the fingertip-sized mass of Arcane energy rapidly dissipated as well, exhausting itself in no time.

Young Sian tried several more times, but even after draining every last bit of Arcane energy from his body, he had failed to tear open much of it.

Fortunately, Tamara and Bashana arrived during that time.

"Be careful..."

Sian rubbed his head and said painfully, "Arcane magic works, but I can't do it alone..."

Overusing his magic had given him such a terrible headache that he could barely speak.

Tamara nodded at that and patted the frantic Bashana, signaling for her not to act rashly.

Tamara's magical reserves were clearly much greater than young Sian's, but as entire patches of vines were sliced away, the black water gradually began gaining the upper hand.

Tamara wiped away her sweat. She was not a spellcaster, and using so much magic was pushing her body beyond its limits. She could not keep it up for long.

Sian anxiously looked around, then suddenly noticed the little Shaman beside him. An idea immediately came to him. "Right! Xiao Na, you're a Shaman. Quickly, try Purification!"

Bashana suddenly understood. She hurriedly planted a totem and began casting Purification.

Under the light of Purification, those disgusting things finally encountered their true nemesis. The remaining energy dissipated like rootless duckweed.

The vines shattered rapidly, but the elderly woman wrapped inside left everyone present frozen in shock.

Because she was the very person they had come for: Bloodhoof Village's Shaman elder, High Priestess Sauna Rivermane!

"How could this happen?!"

Tamara rushed forward and supported the elder as she emerged from the vines, crying in panic, "High Priestess, hold on!"

Bashana frantically summoned Healing Water and immediately began treating her wounds.

After making a rough examination, she found that there was only one fatal wound: a large, even, horrifying gash along the side of her abdomen. It looked as though some monster with a mouthful of razor-sharp fangs had taken a bite out of her, making for a terrifying sight.

Bashana was secretly alarmed. If this wound had been even an inch higher, it would have shattered a quarter of her ribs. The broken bone fragments would have pierced straight into her liver, and the resulting massive hemorrhage would have been beyond saving.

Yet despite suffering such a horrifying attack, she had still stubbornly survived.

The faint glow around her body must have saved her life.

From afar, the High Priestess looked as if she were surrounded by starlight. Her whole body seemed slightly translucent, reminding young Sian of the wondrous Shaman stories his mother had told him.

His mother had told him that when a Shaman cultivated for a very, very long time and realized the true path, they would become a prophet guiding the tribe forward. Those legendary prophets all possessed miraculous soul magic. They could communicate with their ancestors, with all spirits, and even with the stars in the sky.

Sian felt that the High Priestess must have mastered the soul magic his mother had described, because that starlight was stubbornly resisting the corrosion of the black energy and slowly repairing her broken body, greatly easing her injuries.

Under Bashana's treatment, the High Priestess soon awakened.

After a brief moment of confusion upon waking, the High Priestess's eyes suddenly filled with pain and hatred, as though she were facing an unforgivable enemy.

That hatred was so intense that even the young calves were badly startled.

But once she understood the current situation, that trace of hatred swiftly vanished, and she became the old woman tormented by pain once more.

Enduring the pain, the High Priestess looked around. At last, her gaze fell upon one young Tauren, her eyes filled with profound guilt and anguish.

"I'm sorry..."

The lingering grief in those aged eyes left young Sian at a loss, and a powerful, deadly premonition filled him with despairing terror.

At that moment, even time seemed to slow, as though something earth-shattering was about to happen.

She seemed to say something, but young Sian could no longer hear anything.

A sharp ringing seemed to sound in his ears. The entire world became bright as day—dazzling light, explosions, the spinning world—filled with noise and chaos.

Some people tightly gripped his hands. Some held him close. Some were crying. Some were roaring.

Yet he felt nothing toward any of it. He lowered his head blankly and silently stared at his palms. The fur there still seemed brownish-yellow, but suddenly, he was no longer quite sure who he was.

He did not know whether he was truly still alive.

Gradually, the entire world in his eyes became a terrifying crimson.

A cold current suddenly appeared, and cruel winter quietly arrived. Yet more cruel than the bitter cold was a heart filled with despair.

Tamara quietly took her son Baine's hand. She felt that she had still become a selfish master, because she had failed to warm the cold heart of that poor child who had lost his mother.

Whether or not she had tried, she had ultimately failed.