Chapter 71 Bloodstalker! (First Update)
2015-02-24
Author: Floating Tower (诸生浮屠)
As soon as he entered the tribe, Soren immediately smelled a strange odor. It was hard to describe, but it definitely had a somewhat pungent stench. The entire environment of the tribe appeared very dirty and chaotic; there were even feces left by children on the ground, and the pathways had not been purposely flattened, so stepping on them left black, muddy footprints. Surrounding the tribe were low huts, and the shabby fences were of no use to Soren; he could see a haphazard gathering of lower-class indigenous people, with each family typically having five to six members or more.
This place gave him a feeling reminiscent of African tribes; despite having thousands of years of history, there was no sign of civilization!
War, chaos, slaughter.
The environment had destroyed the hope for civilization, with only the oldest traditions and orders still being upheld, numb rulers over these lower-class indigenous people. A circle of low huts enclosed a central area where a few scarce resin torches could be lit. Everything here felt so primitive and desolate. Soren could even see simple stone tools; steel was a very rare resource here, mainly used for weapons and tools, although some bronze artifacts could be seen.
Small-scale indigenous tribes were essentially very primitive, and only tribes that had established towns possessed a fair amount of skills.
In fact, life was far from easy.
The most basic needs of ‘clothing, food, housing, and transportation’ placed clothing even above food. Perhaps in more civilized continental areas, clothing could be purchased with money, but here there was hardly any trade. Soren saw many impoverished indigenous people who were partly unclothed, and many indigenous children slept with bare bottoms. Clothing in the overseas islands mainly consisted of animal hides, linen, and other plant fibers. Animal hides were of higher value, and linen needed to be specially cultivated for trade; if the tribe was far from an indigenous town, many of the most basic living needs could not be met.
Here, finished fabric could be used as currency for trade! (Note: similar to how cloth was used as a substitute currency in ancient China.)
Soren quickly saw their food.
As expected, it was a kind of dark mush mixed with vegetable leaves and other debris, alongside some unappetizing black bread that resembled hard wooden sticks. It was evident that their food was relatively sufficient but lacking in oils, and it was rather messy since Soren even spotted a spider the size of a palm. The interiors of most of the huts looked similar. The lower-class indigenous people lived in groups, and even mating activities were hardly shunned in front of children; here, children were considered adults by about thirteen years old.
Soren didn’t linger around the outskirts for long.
He approached the center of the tribe along a somewhat muddy path. To be honest, Soren found it hard to comprehend the mindset of indigenous people. With so much labor available, why not simply tidy up the ground and pathways? Perhaps they had grown accustomed to this way of life.
Ahead, he spotted patrolling guards.
Surprisingly, the ground near the center was laid with gravel. Just as Soren concealed himself nearby, he heard a series of rapid breathing, clattering noises, and groaning sounds, which did not seem to be coming from just one location. It could be due to the ‘rise at dawn and rest at dusk’ lifestyle; indigenous people generally had no other entertainment at night, so their only pleasure left, it seemed, was mating. As higher-status warriors in the tribe, they enjoyed more food, more resources, and more mates.
Everything in this area was vastly better than outside, even featuring decorative sculptures, along with smoked meats, salted fish, and deer legs hanging from the beams. The indigenous warriors living here were basically professionists. They possessed tremendous combat power, supported by the lower-class indigenous people, and wielded significant influence within the tribe.
The number of warriors could not be precisely determined.
However, according to Soren’s estimation, at least five people were needed to sustain one warrior. If this tribe hadn’t absorbed others, there were at most around three hundred indigenous warriors.
In terms of numbers, they posed no significant threat to Soren!
He also had a considerable number of pirates with him, all capable of joining the fight. Nonetheless, the tribe was populated with many elders, women, and children.
As he got closer to the center,
a vague sense of crisis arose in Soren’s heart. He cautiously crept forward and soon saw several towering, grand buildings. One of them was exceptionally luxurious, with even the ground covered in fur, and two towering indigenous guards standing at the entrance. This was likely the residence of the tribal chieftain, looking no less grand than that of many generations of nobles. Inside, he could hear the sounds of maidservants moving about, and murmurs and footsteps echoed, making it unclear what was happening inside.
Aside from this luxurious mansion, there was only one larger yard nearby.
The source of Soren’s unease stemmed from this yard. Based on the eerie statues placed at the entrance and the various mysterious patterns, it was safe to say that this place was where the shaman of the tribe resided. Soren sensed a faint magical fluctuation, but he dared not approach easily, fearing that spellcasters could set up alarm traps, which would be difficult to dismantle. It was possible that just a slight approach could trigger the magic traps, exposing him.
The area around the shaman’s yard was thick with medicinal aromas!
A very, very strong medicinal scent.
It was somewhat pungent, making one feel uncomfortable, seemingly causing intoxication after a prolonged stay. The nearest houses were quite far from here, suggesting that other members of the indigenous tribe mostly felt fear rather than respect for the shaman. This yard had many bizarre plant roots and fragments of corpses laid out for drying; most of them were unrecognizable to Soren, but this didn’t prevent him from concluding that the shaman was a master of potion-making!
At the very least, he was a top-notch expert in the branch of toxicology.
Indigenous people were skilled in using toxins.
This knowledge was primarily held by the shamans, who would teach some aspects of it but kept the most critical parts transmitted orally. Due to long-term exposure to potions, many of these shamans had developed toxin resistance, with some even possessing immunity to toxins; they also harnessed magical abilities akin to black witchcraft, including some strange curse spells.
There was a row of trees near the yard.
These trees were rather peculiar, approximately 25 meters tall, with not very broad leaves, resembling some kind of tree species, and their bark was grayish-white. Soren glanced at them, and his expression gradually grew serious. He stealthily approached and then conjured a flying dagger in his palm out of thin air.
“What is this?!…”
Soren cautiously jabbed a small hole into the tree trunk and carefully observed it. He saw a trickle of milky white liquid oozing out, and a faint fishy smell filled the air.
His expression turned grave, and he murmured, “Bloodstalker?! Poison Arrow Tree?”
Bloodstalker.
A naturally occurring highly poisonous tree, commonly known as the Poison Arrow Tree, is a species found in tropical rainforest areas. The milky-white poisonous fluid seen before him, once it contacts a wound, quickly causes paralysis of the heart, closure of bl**d vessels, clotting of bl**d, and eventually d*ath by asphyxiation for the poisoned. The danger of this toxin is incredibly high; with a sufficiently high dose, even a superhuman constitution might not withstand it. As for Soren’s ordinary pirates, if poisoned, they would essentially require an antidote; the possibility of surviving by sheer willpower was remarkably low.
“It seems my decision was indeed correct!”
Soren broke out in a cold sweat, secretly relieved that he chose to come here in person today and did not recklessly allow his subordinates to engage in battle with the indigenous tribe. Otherwise, when it truly came to blows, the casualties among his men would be quite heavy. Not to mention other methods the indigenous people might possess, just this Bloodstalker toxin alone could cause much suffering. It was likely that his pirates could end up dead before they even saw the summoned elemental spirits.
“It looks like careful planning is necessary! When we act, we must catch them off guard!”
Soren hid his figure in the darkness, giving the yard ahead one last deep glance before turning and heading toward the outside of the tribe.
The shaman within is a huge trouble!
If he wanted to deal with the indigenous tribe, a decapitation strike was essential; he and Vivian needed to eliminate this shaman first. Although he couldn’t determine the shaman’s professionist level, it likely wouldn’t exceed the fourth tier. There were rarely legendary-level shamans in the overseas islands; if they existed, they would typically be in larger indigenous tribes with tens of thousands of people. This indigenous tribe appeared to possess quite a few resources, whether in terms of population, land, or other supplies.
Even those Poison Arrow Trees were quite useful to Soren!
This visit confirmed the threat posed by this indigenous tribe and solidified his resolve to eliminate them.
One cannot allow others to sleep soundly beside one’s own bed!
These indigenous people were so dangerous that Soren absolutely could not permit them to live on this island; it was likely that those indigenous people had a similar attitude towards outsiders like him, merely not rushing to attack yet because they didn’t understand Soren’s strengths.
Only one side would be able to continue existing!
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(PS: I got up at six-thirty to write this, maybe because I felt the updates lately were lacking, so I needed to make it up to you all. – The diligent scribe of Floating Tower. Three updates today.) (To be continued ~^~)
