Chronicles Of Primordial Wars (Ch. 271-500)

ch. 285-286

Chapter 285

Regardless of the legend, and regardless of how much the process of praying for rain had changed, in any case, one thing was certain that the people of the Rain tribe were very realistic. …

No matter what lies you made, only if it could make a difference, they would believe what you said and would strictly make it. Otherwise, even if you paid much more but failed to satisfy them, they would brutalize the liar.

How much high they boost you up before, then how much heavily they would throw you down, and then push you into the fire pit. Yang Sui was an example.

Compared to the Flaming Horn tribe, the Rain tribe’s Shaman was really at a low level. However, Shamans also differed from each other. If the Flaming Horn tribe also had Shaman like the Rain tribe’s, it would be no different from the Rain tribe now.

What Shao Xuan thought was that it depends.

Probably, since he thought he would only live for a few days, Yang Sui withheld nothing. In many cases, he couldn’t talk to people of his tribe, because it would be considered too blasphemous, but he could talk to the foreigners because outsiders had never recognized other tribes’ affair. Yang Sui needn’t care anything when he talked to the outsider, and he could vent his grievances by the way.

After a short silence, Yang Sui lowered his eyes, waving the oxtail in his hand, he sang with his hoarse voice, “the light drizzle, the mud covers the road… god in heaven, rain is the clothes… please your…”

It’s a song that every person of the Rain tribe could sing.

When no one could pray for the rain anymore? And how many years had passed since then?

Hundreds of years? Thousands of years? Or even longer?

“the light drizzle, the mud covers the road, what kind of scene was that? I really want to see it again,” said Yang Sui.

The records left by the ancestors were incomplete, but the songs passed down from generation to generation were known to everyone. The pity of it was that no one could imagine the scene this song depicted. Neither the people who knew it. Because the people who knew had been gone.

“It’s said that the rain will drop like the line and the ground will be covered by the mud when praying for rain succeed. The bare-foot people will walk in the wet cold mud and enjoy the bath of the rain.” Said Yang Sui.

Mud, had no derogatory sense here. For the people of the Rain tribe, ‘mud’ was a desirable image, because, in most of their memories, the ground was always hard and cracked.

Speaking of that, the girl named Mi Xu that Shao Xuan had seen yesterday came over. It seemed that she was seized with uncontrollable rage. Maybe she never thought she could meet Shao Xuan here. The surprise on her face flashed and disappeared, she didn’t pay much attention to Shao Xuan and turned to Yang Sui sitting on the floor.

“Another two threw up their jobs! Assholes!” Mi Xu appeared enraged.

Yang Sui’s hand holding the oxtail quivered, then he said quietly, “Just let them go, I will double the shell coin for those who want to do it.”

“It’s no use adding more coins!” Shouted Mi Xu. “He Chao has taken them with the shell coin! They can also give them more coins! One has left yesterday. It’s hard to find someone to supply the lack, but now he has left! Who else can we look for?! Who knows if anyone will leave today!”

The “He Chao” Mi Xu said was the Shaman who had competed with Yang Sui, Yang Sui won then. But now, the chef Hang Mang supported He Chao and took Yang Sui down. Day by day, the supporters of Yang Sui decreased quickly. Yang Sui had said yesterday that his supporters were the less half while the opposite party was the more half. But now, even the less half left.