Chapter Fifty-Two: I Am the Village Chief in the Primordial Wilderness

This rain lasted for a year, gentle and fine as hair, sparse and scattered. If not for the fact that the floor became damp after a quarter of an hour, one might not even notice such a rainfall.

It’s manageable for the land to stay moist for a day, but ten days, a fortnight, half a year, a whole year—such persistent dampness becomes vexing.

Lozu still remembered the last unusual rainfall, which occurred several years ago, precisely when the Kuafu Shaman Tribe passed through this region. That rain was torrential, so intense it threatened to submerge the entire mountain range. At the time, Lozu resolved to relocate his tribespeople to the hill where the Eagle Demon Tribe resided; fortunately, Kuafu’s tribe passed by and dispelled the storm.

Now, what was the meaning of this gentle, persistent rain? It continued for a year without pause—not fierce, seemingly harmless, tolerable, yet the air felt sticky every day, and practicing fire-based techniques left one constantly uneasy.

Moreover, this prolonged rain was not sourced from the great lake, nor did it carry the oppressive aura that unsettled Lozu’s spirit. He had yet to determine its true origin.

Despite the rain, the tribe’s development was not hindered. In fact, it could be considered favorable weather. If things became too damp, they simply started a fire or used magic to alter the environment temporarily.

People would not let themselves be stifled by a mere inconvenience.

Over the years, the tribe had grown considerably. The population in the first settlement had reached seven hundred, while the second settlement increased from three hundred to five hundred, with total numbers surpassing a thousand.

The primary reason for the surge in the second settlement was that only able-bodied adults had migrated there—no children—so the rate of reproduction was naturally rapid.

The second settlement now had its own name. Nestled at the foot of a hill called Tiger Head, Lozu named it Tiger Head Village.

As for the first settlement, it was called Lo Township—not out of selfishness, nor did he impose the name, but because everyone agreed, even the villagers of Tiger Head. In Lozu’s administrative plan, a township ranks above a village, but he did not style himself as township chief; he remained the tribal leader. Both Tiger Head Village and Lo Township belonged to the broader “Cave Dweller” tribal group.

Tiger Head Village’s main activity was animal husbandry, being at the foot of the mountain with a small valley suitable for livestock.

Originally, Lozu intended Fire Child to oversee these operations, aided by animal husbandry manuals collected from the world within the bottle. Even as a novice, Fire Child could gradually learn, having some prior experience in Lo Township. But Creek came forward, requesting to assist with the livestock.

After much deliberation, Lozu agreed, persuaded by her.

Creek had once been enslaved by the demon tribe, corralled like livestock. When she first arrived in Lo Township, Lozu had her interact with the animals; she did not resist, being new and cautious with everyone in her new home.

Especially with Lozu, the tribal leader—she always tried to please him, perhaps unconsciously, driven by instincts honed during her captivity. Lozu spoke with her many times, easing her heart and helping her integrate into the “Cave Dweller” family.

Thanks to Lozu’s sincere acceptance, and the tribe’s collective embrace, she finally let go of her past and became part of the tribe.

Later, Lozu assigned her to picking wild fruit and managing the plantations instead of animal husbandry, where she performed admirably.

But after Lozu announced Tiger Head Village’s new focus, Creek volunteered that very day to join Fire Child in raising livestock.

They spoke at length. Though she lacked detailed plans, she had her own ideas, superior to the others’ ignorance.

She left Lozu with a final question: “Chief, you once said the demons evolved from beasts. Then, in the future, can I tame them as well?”

This made Lozu realize she had not fully escaped her shadow.

The people of the primordial world are no fools. They possess bodies personally designed by Lady Nuwa and share the fresh spiritual energy of the wilderness. How could they be dull?

Past memories cannot be erased by a few comforting words.

As for the issue of taming intelligent beings as livestock, Lozu did not know how to answer.

First, the demon tribe was powerful and would rule for who knows how many years—perhaps ten thousand, a hundred million, even a billion years. Who could tell when the great war between shamans and demons would begin?

Second, although Lozu resented the demon tribe for their treatment of humans, his wrath would drive him to kill them, not enslave them.

Yet, on the principle of an eye for an eye, he felt he ought to do the same.

They enslaved humans; therefore, humans should enslave them in return.

He thought of the relationship between the miniature Human Tribe 2.0 and 1.0 in the bottle world. Though not labeled as slaves, in practice it wasn’t much different.

Ultimately, Lozu came to the conclusion: Those not of our kind must have hearts different from ours—they may be destroyed.

The demons had taken the first step; someday, humanity would take the next.

As for the endless cycle of vengeance—could the sages ever truly comprehend that phrase?

Lozu believed the development of humanity should be the priority, so long as it did not require sacrificing the lives of his people.

Of course, Lozu pondered much about the demons’ practice of enslaving humans. Humans, after all, were newly born. Although Lady Nuwa had not explicitly endorsed them, surely the great gods knew this was her creation. Why, then, did such things happen?

Was it tacitly permitted?

Lozu could not understand. He was not even a true immortal, and could not access intelligence at that level.

He did, however, ask Tang, who lived among the Shaman Tribe, about this matter. She said she had never seen such a demon tribe; apparently, the tribe that kept humans as livestock was not nearby, not within a million miles.

Seeking retribution would not be easy, with no direction to pursue.

As Lozu gazed at the gentle rain, sorting through the affairs of his tribe, a great event occurred in the world within the bottle.

Yang Zun had died.

This extraordinary man passed away quietly, without any grand gesture. He calculated his time, bought a coffin, feasted before his final breath, then lay inside and passed away peacefully.

But his death brought no rest.

He became a ghost—a muddled, wandering spirit.

Day after day, he roamed outside his home, vacant and dazed, unseen by most.

Only Lozu could see him.