An unusual restlessness began to permeate the tribe. The beastmen cleaned the camp, prepared far more food than usual, and an atmosphere blending excitement and solemnity hung in the air. From their conversations and gestures, Gu Liang faintly caught a recurring word, accompanied by a hand pointing toward the crescent moon in the sky.
He understood: the "New Moon Festival" was approaching.
On the eve of the festival, all slaves were herded to the riverbank for a brutal cleansing, then dressed in slightly more intact hides. Gu Liang was forced to scrub away the grime covering his body, the icy water sending shivers through him. The brand beneath his collarbone grew more visible after washing, like an indelible mark of shame.
On the day of the festival, special herbs and resins were added to the central bonfire, releasing a thick smoke with a peculiar, slightly pungent odor as it burned. All Leopard Clan beastmen, regardless of age or gender, gathered around the fire, their faces smeared with white mud and ochre pigment, adorned with eerie totems.
Chief Inkmane stood before the bonfire clad in a heavy ceremonial robe adorned with massive tusks and feathers, a bone staff topped with a large crystal in his hand. He chanted ancient, obscure prayers, his voice hollow and distant, as if communicating with unseen deities.
The beastmen joined in the chanting, their voices swelling into a crescendo of fervor. They began dancing around the fire, their movements brimming with savage power and a primal rhythm. The stomping of feet, the roars, and the clanging of bone weapons merged into a deafening cacophony that made the ground tremble.
Gu Liang and the other slaves were ordered to kneel at the very edge of the crowd. He was stunned by this scene of primal, savage, overwhelming power, yet simultaneously gripped by profound fear. In this frenzied atmosphere, he felt utterly out of place, small and vulnerable. The glances cast by the beastmen, heightened by the smoke and dance, seemed to carry an indescribable aggression and exclusivity.
A Lie was among the dancers. He had shed his upper leather armor, revealing a bronze-toned chest and arms, muscular and scarred with old wounds. White totem patterns writhed in the firelight, radiating a wild beauty and overwhelming presence.His dance was explosive, each leap and twist like a cheetah poised to strike. His gaze pierced through the writhing crowd, repeatedly locking onto Gu Liang kneeling on the ground. His golden pupils burned with desire and possessiveness hotter than the bonfire, silently declaring ownership.
Gu Liang felt his scalp tingle under that stare, forcing his head down to the ground, his eyes fixed on the earth, praying for the ritual to end.
His fear extended beyond A Lie himself, engulfed as he was by the surrounding vortex of fervor. The synchronized stomping of feet pulsed like a primal heartbeat, while the indistinct yet powerful chanting wove a vast, exclusionary web of collective consciousness.Within this web, he was utterly exposed—a discordant note, a foreign element destined to be devoured or purged by this collective unconscious. This rejection, more profound than mere violence, sent shivers through his very soul.
Just then, the ritual reached its climax. The ink-maned chieftain let out a piercing cry as several elder female beastmen carried forward large basins of murky, pungent liquid—a fermented brew made from wild berries and honey.The beasts cheered, scooping the liquid into rough wooden bowls or earthenware cups (crudely fired pottery) and guzzling it down. This fermented beverage clearly served to heighten emotions dramatically.
The drink swiftly ignited the already frenzied atmosphere, plunging the scene into even greater chaos and disorder. Some orcs began roaring more wildly, chasing and roughhousing, while others started grabbing the female orcs they fancied.
A Lie downed a large bowl of the liquid, droplets dripping from his chin. Wiping his mouth, his eyes grew fiercer and more aggressive as he strode directly toward Gu Liang.
Gu Liang's heart instantly leapt into his throat, fear clenching his chest. He instinctively stepped back, his hand reaching for the military knife in his pocket.
A Lie stopped before him, reeking of thick, pungent slurry and radiating overwhelming pressure. He bent low, his massive hand snatching at Gu Liang's arm, intent on hauling him to his feet.
"Come," A Lie's voice grew hoarser and deeper with excitement, "feel the power of the Leopard Clan!"
Gu Liang struggled in terror, yet couldn't budge his opponent an inch. Beastmen nearby saw the scene, erupting in raucous laughter and hooting cheers. In the frenzied atmosphere of the festival, no one found it amiss.
Just then—
"Aaah—!"
A piercing, inhuman scream erupted from the nearest bonfire! Gu Liang and A Lie both snapped their attention toward the sound.
A drunken Leopard Clan warrior had pinned another frail slave face-down in the mud, his head buried in tearing at the slave's already tattered animal hide.Instead of intervening, the surrounding beastmen gathered closer, their wild howls and cheers growing louder. The firelight cast their distorted, frenzied shadows onto the tents, like demons dancing in chaos.
The slave's whimpers and struggles were barely audible amid the deafening revelry.
This scene felt like a bucket of ice water mixed with boiling oil being poured over Gu Liang's head.
The icy chill was the fate that would soon befall him, identical in every detail; the searing heat was the despair and humiliation pushing him to the brink of collapse.
A Lie withdrew his gaze. His golden pupils held not a trace of pity or restraint; instead, the scene had made them burn brighter, desire nearly materializing into flames. He stared at Gu Liang's deathly pale face, licked his lips, tightened his grip, and spoke in a low, hoarse voice tinged with pleasure:
"Look. This is what 'celebration' looks like... Don't worry. Our turn will come soon."
Just as Gu Liang was about to be dragged into that frenzied vortex, a figure stepped in, blocking the space between him and A Lie.
It was Emma.
She too had consumed some of the liquid, her cheeks flushed but her gaze clear and composed. A stone axe gripped in her hand, she stood casually between A Lie and Gu Liang, the blade glinting coldly in the firelight.
"A Lie, Father is calling for you." Emma's voice wasn't loud, yet it pierced through the din and reached A Lie's ears with clarity. She paused, her gaze seemingly drifting toward the altar—where the Black Mane Chief stood with several elders, their expressions unsettled in the firelight—before adding, "The elders are deadlocked over the next hunting party assignments.Father says your presence and your battle record are needed to settle it."
The Black Mane Chief again! Ale's movement halted once more, his face flashing with extreme impatience and hostility. His chest heaved, as if he wanted to charge regardless, but the last remnants of his reason and the stone axe in the other's hand froze him in place. This wasn't about whether he could defeat Emma. It was about openly defying the chieftain's explicit summons during the festival, in full view of everyone—for the sake of a slave. It would be like handing his own downfall to all those who disliked him.
He exhaled a slow, heavy breath reeking of alcohol, as if trying to expel every ounce of rage from his chest. He glanced down at Gu Liang, who was pale as a sheet and trembling uncontrollably. His eyes then flickered toward the distant, unchecked "incident" unfolding. Finally, his gaze settled on Emma's calm, unruffled face.
"...Hmph." Finally, a cold snort, ambiguous in meaning, squeezed from the depths of his throat—a compromise, perhaps, or a deeper grudge. He leaned close to Gu Liang and rasped in a voice only the two could hear, "You've been given a second chance, little one.Cherish it... the time you have left." With that, he turned away from Emma and strode purposefully toward the gathering of the chief and elders.
Gu Liang collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his back drenched in cold sweat. The intermittent whimpers of the slave by the distant campfire and A Lie's words—"the time you have left"—coiled like two icy vipers, gnawing at his nerves from both sides.
Was he saved? No. The invisible net had merely been violently flung back, now hanging even higher overhead. He remained the insect trapped within it, flapping its wings in despair.
Emma didn't look at him. She simply hoisted the stone axe back onto her shoulder and said flatly to a stunned slave beside her, "Go pour the elders another round of potions." As if she had truly come only to deliver orders, merely passing by A-liei in the process.
She turned and merged into the noisy crowd, leaving Gu Liang standing there, soaked in a void more terrifying than cold—his fate had just been laid out on the altar like a sacrifice, then casually pushed aside, and the hand wielding the knife was not his own. The ritual revelry continued, but he felt only icy coldness all around him.A Lie's desire was unabashed, while Emma's protection flickered like a candle in the wind, ready to extinguish at any moment.
[Warning: Festival atmosphere and A Lie's actions cause target Gu Liang's sense of security to plummet, fear level surges, positive dependency +3%. Current positive dependency: 5%.]
Emma gripped the rough wooden handle of her stone axe tightly in the crowd. The coarse texture in her palm pulled her thoughts back slightly, but Gu Liang's face—pale as paper, etched with the despair of impending death—and the look in his eyes, where the last glimmer of light had been utterly crushed, kept flashing through her mind, refusing to fade.
The system's cold notification still rang in her ears. The dependency value had risen again—still fueled by fear.
This couldn't go on.
She watched the primitive, savage revelry still unfolding around the bonfire, observing her kin lost in the release of raw power and desire.Fear, allowed to accumulate long enough, would either crush him completely, turning him into a true walking corpse, or... like flint struck repeatedly, it would reach a breaking point and erupt into dangerous sparks hot enough to scorch everyone. That was absolutely not the outcome she desired.
She couldn't keep reacting like this, putting out fires after they started. Each "convenient" appearance, each use of borrowed force, might temporarily fend off A Lie, but it also deepened the imprint in Gu Liang's mind that he was utterly powerless, relying solely on chance external forces. In some ways, this was more despairing than simple violent oppression.
She needed a turning point.
He must gain something soon—not her charity, not her fleeting protection, but something tangible he could grasp, comprehend, and even draw strength from to confront his fear. Even if it started as small as dust, fragile as a spider's thread.
Emma's gaze pierced through the dancing flames and distorted silhouettes, settling on the shadowy corner at the tribe's edge—a pile of junk and crude tools shrouded in darkness. A vague outline of a plan began to take shape under her calm scrutiny.
It was time to give him a "key." A key to "usefulness," one that might grant him a sliver of breathing room. Of course, this also meant thrusting him faster into the very heart of this savage world's most brutal arena.
Risk and opportunity were always two sides of the same coin.
She drew a deep breath of air thick with the scent of fireworks and fervor, then turned and vanished completely into the darkness. The wooden handle of the stone axe in her hand had, unnoticed, grown damp with the faintly cool sweat that had seeped from her palm—a sensation jarringly out of place in this night of revelry.
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