Chapter 462: Shaman

The tribe ruling over Gegen Gol is the Hailasu, whose chieftain claims descent from the Golden Clan and shares the same lineage as the great khan of the Golden Tent, Gurdo, thus bearing the title “Great Sun King.”

The current Great Sun King has many descendants, among whom Agula is one of the most insignificant. His mother was a female slave, brought into the royal tent after the Great Sun King once became drunk.

Among his brothers and sisters, Agula had the lowest birth status and was the least likely to inherit or divide the tribe. Paradoxically, this very fact made him more approachable, allowing him to maintain good relations with most people. Coupled with his distant ties to the Golden Clan, ordinary grassland people naturally viewed him with some respect, so his position was neither high nor low, and his life was fairly decent.

“Agula himself has only average talent in martial cultivation, but he was fortunate to have a good son named Arslan, who showed great potential and might elevate his father’s status through his own achievements. Thus, Agula spent a vast fortune to have Arslan apprenticed to a powerful martial artist. By his early twenties, Arslan had already opened seven spiritual apertures, his internal world beginning to take shape. Even the Great Sun King expressed concern for him once. But then he was marked by the Wolf King and had his throat crushed within the Hailasu family tent in Gegen Gol.”

As Wu’en led Meng Qi past one tent after another, he casually explained the situation, “Due to his low status and the jealousy from uncles and cousins caused by Arslan’s talent, although the Hailasu clan outwardly spoke of revenge, in reality, they only went through the motions. This chilled Agula’s heart, and he secretly joined the Wolf-Killing Society.”

Because Agula had some illicit trade in southern goods and furs that passed through Old Wu’en, the latter accidentally discovered this.

“Wolf King actually chooses his targets very carefully…” Meng Qi noticed this point instead.

The Wolf King had never slain any direct-line shamans of the Eternal Sect or descendants of the Golden Tent, nor had he ever targeted individuals linked to a Grandmaster. As for Arslan, though the Hailasu clan boasted a peerless master—one envied by many—his father was merely an overlooked descendant.

Wu’en wasn’t particularly concerned as he chuckled, “If he lacked such awareness, the Wolf King would already be feeding livestock. Even though he possesses secret techniques and is cautious, if he were marked by powerful shamans or Golden Tent experts, could he really hide more than once?”

Yet being able to avoid the untouchables while seemingly killing at random meant the Wolf King had excellent intelligence… Meng Qi mused thoughtfully.

Wu’en stopped near several tents, approached a guard, whispered something with a smile, and slipped him a silver coin.

While Wu’en was working, Meng Qi wasn’t idle either. He casually surveyed the area. These tents were spaced apart from others, guarded by warriors, with hidden sentries in secret spots. The gaps in the tent roofs seemed to conceal secret guards as well.

There was no disorder among the horses, cattle, and sheep; everything was arranged neatly. The servants and slaves moving about also maintained orderly conduct.

“Agula shouldn’t be underestimated; he’s quite a talent…” Meng Qi didn’t look down on Agula due to his poor martial cultivation potential but instead felt from the details that Agula had high leadership ability.

Soon, a servant came out and invited Wu’en and Meng Qi inside.

After lifting the tent flap, Meng Qi naturally visualized the interior situation in his mind. Every place that should have guards definitely had someone standing or hiding.

The ground was covered with thick carpets, very comfortable underfoot. Unlike ordinary grassland people sitting cross-legged, Agula had arranged a red table and stools in the Northern Zhou style. Copper braziers were placed on the table and in the corners of the tent, glowing red-hot to warm the cold winter.

Without the tents outside, Meng Qi would have thought he had returned to the Northern Zhou. It seemed the grassland nobility’s fondness for southern goods was no exaggeration.

“Wu’en, didn’t I tell you not to come looking for me unless it’s important?” Agula’s low voice seemed to come from his chest.

Judging solely by his appearance, he was an ordinary, middle-aged, overweight grassland man, but the jade ring on his hand, shimmering with a faint glow, and his steady eyes revealed his status.

Besides the other guards, there was another man standing behind Agula. He was tall and muscular, with sparse hair. His bulging muscles brimmed with power. The many bluish tribal patterns visible on his exposed skin were unknown whether tattoos or held some other mystical significance.

Wu’en looked around at the guards and smiled broadly, saying, “I have a small personal matter to trouble you, Your Highness. I wonder…”

Agula’s face darkened, and he waved his hand, ordering all the visible and hidden guards to leave the tent, except for the tall man behind him and possibly whoever was hiding on the tent’s roof.

“Now, whatever secret you have can be spoken,” Agula said gravely.

Wu’en pointed at Meng Qi and spoke directly, “He has a grudge with the Wolf King and wants to join the Wolf-Killing Society.”

“That damned lowly slave, how dare he reveal this!” Agula flew into a rage, picking up the whip from the table as if to strike.

Despite his usually mild-mannered and calm appearance, his anger carried considerable intimidation.

But this had no effect on Wu’en, as they were merely business partners. He smiled and took a step back, saying, “Brother Zhebie’s sword skills saved my goods. With him joining, wouldn’t we have an even better chance against the Wolf King?”

Meng Qi couldn’t think of a good grassland name, so he introduced himself as “Zhebie.” After Wu’en mentioned him, he fixed a cold gaze on Agula, placing his right hand on his sword hilt, assuming a posture ready to spill blood across five steps.

“Zhebie…” Agula narrowed his eyes.

The tall man behind him snorted coldly, “Sword skills? Hmph, countless sword masters have died under the Wolf King’s claws.”

Agula gestured for him to be silent. His voice seemed to rumble from deep within his throat:

“What grudge do you have with the Wolf King? Where are you from?”

“Moreover, our Wolf-Killing Society has strict rules. Without corresponding strength or abilities, one cannot join, only provide information for us.”

He was filled with caution toward this sudden “Zhebie” and was not optimistic about his capabilities.

“A wandering swordsman, no relatives or friends killed by the Wolf King…” Meng Qi deliberately paused.

“So what deep hatred do you have with him?” Agula was somewhat surprised.

Meng Qi tried to keep his words concise to avoid exposing any flaws in his grassland speech: “I was attacked by him.”

“What?” Shocked voices came simultaneously from both Agula and the tall man behind him.

Even Wu’en was quite astonished, as this was the first time he had heard of it. This youth with the green sash had actually survived an ambush by the Wolf King—no wonder he dared to chase the Wolf King onto the grasslands!

Among those below the Half-Step level, very few could survive an ambush by the Wolf King. Across the entire grasslands, there weren’t more than ten such people, most of whom had helpers nearby, so when the Wolf King failed to land a killing blow, he immediately fled.

The tall man rudely said, “By the Eternal Sky, liars shall die by wolves’ mouths! Just because the Wolf King isn’t here, do you dare to lie recklessly?”

Clearly, he didn’t believe this thin and unimpressive wandering swordsman could have escaped the Wolf King’s claws. If boasting, he could even claim to have chased the Wolf King away in panic, since the Wolf King couldn’t come to refute it.

Agula frowned, sharing the same view inwardly. He said to Wu’en, “Zhebie’s origins are unknown, and his grudge with the Wolf King cannot be verified. Even if I recommend him, others probably won’t agree.”

He politely declined.

Meng Qi took a step forward, calmly saying, “Have any of you seen the Wolf King fight?”

The atmosphere froze momentarily. After a brief silence, Agula said, “When Arslan was killed, Batu was inside his tent.”

Batu, the tall and muscular man, recalled the past, his face slightly pale, as if he often had nightmares about it. His voice was no longer powerful but somewhat weak: “I didn’t see it with my own eyes, but I felt it. He was like a demon, a fox spirit turned into a wild wolf… By the Eternal Sky…”

“Then try it.” Meng Qi spoke sparingly, appearing extremely cold.

As soon as the words fell, the entire tent suddenly darkened. Batu found the wandering swordsman in front of him had vanished.

Immediately, the hair on the back of his neck stood up, as if an invisible blade was pressed against it.

He suddenly stepped forward and turned around, swinging his right arm. His muscles bulged, releasing a powerful gale that struck the air with a dull thud.

But he could only hit empty air.

A cold breeze blew, and the sharp blade’s qi still hovered at his neck.

This time, Batu chose to lunge forward, like a scorpion’s tail, his leg whipping out with a loud crack, yet again striking nothing, as if there was truly no one behind him—only an invisible demon!

Again and again, Batu could not shake off the demon’s harassment or escape from his nightmare.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead, his fists and feet growing increasingly disordered. The bluish shamanic patterns on his skin filled him with energy, but what good was that if he couldn’t find his enemy?

Suddenly, he saw Agula’s face—a look of complete shock. In his pupils, Batu saw his own reflection, and behind him was still no one!

“It’s… it’s the Wolf King!” Batu finally managed to spit out those words.

What Agula saw, however, was completely different. “Brother Zhebie” had been leisurely walking behind Batu the entire time, moving forward when Batu moved forward, turning when Batu turned, always staying behind him. When Batu kicked backward, “Zhebie” casually sidestepped, and when Batu looked into his own pupils, “Zhebie” suddenly positioned himself directly in the center, using Batu’s tall and muscular frame to hide himself completely.

Throughout the entire process, it was as if he was playing a game of hide-and-seek with a child, but Batu, sweating profusely and looking extremely frightened, made the entire scene eerily shocking.

Agula took a breath: “Brother Zhebie, I believe you’ve truly encountered the Wolf King.”

Otherwise, there was no way Batu could have mistaken him for the Wolf King. Naturally, his address toward such a high-level expert was different.

“Then can I join the Wolf-Killing Society?” Meng Qi asked briefly.

“Your grudge with the Wolf King isn’t a problem, but Brother Zhebie, your origins are unclear. Others might not believe you unless you’re willing to swear an oath before a shaman, promising not to disclose the Wolf-Killing Society’s internal matters or harm other members.” Agula put forward a rather harsh requirement.

Meng Qi nodded lightly: “Alright.”

He actually agreed? Wu’en was somewhat puzzled; an oath sworn before a shaman was no small matter!

Agula revealed a smile and sent a guard to invite a familiar ordinary shaman, seemingly unafraid of him knowing about the Wolf-Killing Society.

This shaman wore a bluish robe adorned with many patterned designs. He was thin and had an air of superiority.

In a society where everyone believed in the Eternal Sky and various totems, shamans were the messengers of gods. Except for the descendants of the Golden Clan, even tribal chieftains had to show them respect.

The shaman held the Hailasu tribe’s totem, moved his lips, muttered some words, and his eyes slightly darkened. Then he asked Meng Qi to swear an oath.

Fortunately, the content of the oath had already been explained by Agula beforehand; otherwise, Meng Qi really wouldn’t have known how to express it in grassland language. After slowly reciting the oath, he saw the shaman’s eyes emit a bluish glow. Then he felt as if his body was in a dream, sensing a karmic thread stretching toward him from the shaman’s totem.

From the beginning, he had silently practiced the karmic secret technique he learned from Sikong Tu, just in case something supernatural occurred!