The spots of light filtering through the bamboo blind moved slowly across Le Luoluo's face, from his trembling lashes to his tightly pressed lips, finally settling on the chest that his stoop had left slightly sunken.
After an unknown stretch of time, Le Luoluo straightened his back, like a long-unused bowstring drawn taut again. His voice was dry and hoarse, its pace half a beat slower than usual, yet it seemed to carry the weight of words chiseled into stone:
"Father, your son will remember your words."
The Old Chief looked at his son, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes easing almost imperceptibly. He wanted to reach out and pat his son's shoulder, but the gesture seemed too taxing. In the end, he merely shifted his palm across the quilt, so lightly that it would not have disturbed a speck of dust.
"The future of the Wenyang Tribe rests on your shoulders now. I believe you will do better than I did."
Le Luoluo was deeply alarmed:
"How could I possibly compare with you, Father! You made the Wenyang Tribe strong enough to stand alongside great tribes like the Yongning Barbarians, Wuning Barbarians, and Yidu Barbarians. A tiny tribe that once had fewer than eight hundred warriors leaped into the ranks of Jingzhou's six great tribes! That achievement rivals Adugu's-the legendary founder of the Wenyang Tribe, who led nine warriors over Wuyang Gorge by climbing vines, descended like soldiers from heaven to kill the Wild King, and founded the Wenyang Tribe! Without you, the Yongning Barbarians would have destroyed us long ago. How could we have survived to this day!"
"Ancient history. Why bring it up..."
A few muffled chuckles rolled from the Old Chief's throat, and the wrinkles on his face puckered like dried orange peel.
"It