The Chief took a step forward. He raised both hands, palms upward, slowly bringing them to his chest, then spoke a sentence. His voice was quiet, but it carried clearly across the silent clearing.
Shen Fei could not understand the words, but he could hear the solemnity and reverence in his tone. Each word was pronounced with heavy emphasis, its final sound drawn out, as though he were chanting something ancient.
After speaking those words, the Chief slowly lowered his hands, then began to move.
He performed a very slow dance. His steps covered little ground, mostly treading in place. His feet struck the earth in an even, steady rhythm, each step planted firmly.
His upper body moved even more slowly. His shoulders rose and fell slightly, his arms slowly lifting and lowering at his sides. His fingers opened and closed by turns, as though grasping at something invisible.
Occasionally, he tilted his head to one side before slowly turning it back. His gaze remained fixed on the cave entrance. He looked neither at the crowd nor at the offering table.
The entire sequence was slow, so slow that every pause carried a deliberate weight, as though each step measured something and every raised hand touched something.
Standing behind and to one side of the Chief, Shen Fei watched his movements and sensed subtle changes in the surrounding spiritual power.
As the Chief danced, the fluctuations of spiritual power around him were not strong. He neither deliberately released an oppressive aura nor called upon a Demon Spirit, yet exceedingly faint, almost imperceptible traces of spiritual power flowed slowly through the ground beneath his feet and the air around him.
That spiritual power converged toward the cave entrance from the direction of the crowd, as though something were drawing it over,