The Jiang Water flowed on and on, the river breeze soft and faint.
Golden sunlight spilled over the river, its glittering golden scales opening and closing like sacred dragon scales, a kingly aura quietly stirring!
On the riverbank.
As Jiang Shennong firmed his convictions and resolve, Jiang Yang distinctly felt his bearing change.
It was the transformation from a tribal chief into a king.
Jiang Yang straightened, his hair white, his face aged.
He was already in his sixties, a long-lived elder in this age of mortal tribes.
In his youth, his valor had been renowned throughout the Great Wilderness; in middle age, his might had awed the region; now, in old age, his body had declined, no longer living up to his former renown.
Yet his spirit remained high, like fire, like song.
No one would consider him a weak king because of his age.
Beside him.
The beautiful goddess of the Luo River stood quietly to one side, smiling as she watched the father and son, one old and one young.
She watched them stand by the river, facing the setting sun, their figures straight as pines, like two kings standing against the wind!
Ages were changing, years were flowing, and a new history was taking shape.
Flowers fell, their seasons unchanged; grasses sprouted and grew, time and again.
Another five years passed.
That year.
Jiang Shennong turned fifty.
It was also his twenty-fifth year as chief of the Jiang Tribe.
In the twenty-five years since wheat had appeared.
The Jiang Tribe's population had more than doubled.
The methods of cultivation fed more people, and the Jiang Tribe gradually grew into the most powerful tribe in the Great River Basin.
The small tribes along the Jiang Water also grew stronger through these methods of cultivation.
Over twenty-odd years,