Chapter 089: Homecoming

On the slopes of Eight Treasures Mountain, Rogan led his people in a solemn ceremony, cremating the two fallen warriors. Earless was still recovering, while Strongman had regained enough strength to work—aside from his still-swollen face, he was otherwise fine. However, Rogan assigned him light duties: caring for Earless, cooking meals, and keeping watch over the cattle.

With the remaining sixteen men, Rogan wielded his bronze shovel, digging tirelessly. They harvested vast quantities of brass ore and tin, filling twenty-four large baskets—so much that twelve oxen were needed to transport them. Each beast carried two baskets, in addition to ten more filled with pyrite and the rest loaded with kaolin and limestone.

Thanks to their numbers and the efficiency of bronze tools, the mining itself took only a single day. The majority of their time was consumed by the arduous journey back.

By the afternoon of the seventh day since their departure, Rogan and his caravan of ore-laden oxen arrived at the riverbank, reuniting with the five tribesmen who had remained behind to guard the wooden boats.

Seeing the weary travelers—dust-covered, wounded, and missing two members—Boar hurriedly inquired about what had transpired.

Exhausted from the journey, Rogan ordered a rest. The ore was unloaded, and the cattle were allowed to recuperate. That afternoon, the tribe hunted wild hares and gathered around for a shared meal, exchanging stories of their experiences.

Boar and his group were shocked by the tale of the battle. At the same time, they couldn't help but feel relieved—they had been spared the chaos, spending their days peacefully hunting near the river. Unlike their comrades, they had not even glimpsed an enemy.

The next morning, they retrieved the hidden boats, pushing them back into the water. Each large basket of ore was carefully loaded into the hulls. Fortunately, the boats were long enough to accommodate the entire cargo. However, with twenty massive baskets aboard, the vessels could carry only five or six crew members for navigation.

Rogan took the helm once again, selecting Strongman, Earless, Barrel, Stump, and Feather to join him. The rest would ride the oxen back home, with Oak temporarily leading the overland group atop Meatball.

The wooden boats, carried by the river's current, barely required paddling. The crew's only task was to adjust their course when necessary, using occasional strokes of the oars to correct their path.

In less than two hours, the boats drifted into view of the eastern shore, where the Rat Tribe had been waiting. On the opposite bank, Han Tribe's women were fishing along the river.

As Rogan had anticipated, the Rat Tribe had not attempted to cross the water. Instead, they had remained encamped, eager to witness the legendary wooden boats firsthand.

The elders of the Han Tribe had already learned of the Rat Tribe's decision to merge with them. The news was met with great joy—especially among those who had once been traded from the Rat Tribe. Now, they could finally reunite with their kin.

As soon as the boats came within 500 meters, Beastfang spotted them from the shore, waving his arms wildly.

"The chief is back! The chief is back! Chief, we're here!"

The Rat Tribe, realizing their new leader had returned, also turned their eyes toward the river, cheering excitedly at the sight of the wooden vessels.

"Chief! Chief! Over here! Over here!"

Rogan sighed and rubbed his temples. "The hell are you all yelling for? A crowd this big—you think I wouldn't see you?"

The crew, however, was just as excited. Laughing, they waved back enthusiastically, calling out greetings to the crowd.

As they reached the mouth of the artificial canal, Rogan tossed a rope to the Han women on the shore, who pulled the boat in while he guided it with the oars.

Meanwhile, on the eastern shore, Stone called out in distress.

"Chief! Don't leave us behind!"

"What's the rush?" Rogan retorted, stepping onto the dock. "Can't you see the boat is packed full? We'll drop off the ore first, then come back for you.

"And honestly, how long have you been here? Why didn't you figure out a way across? This river isn't that wide—you could've just swum!"

Beastfang quickly explained, "Chief, it wasn't that we didn't want to. Rat Chief and Rat Shaman insisted on seeing the wooden boat, and they can't swim. Plus, there were children with us, so we stayed put."

"Fine, fine," Rogan conceded. "Just wait a little longer. Once we unload the ore, we'll come back for you."

As he spoke, Sickly and Bumper rushed forward to greet him, their chatter incessant. Bumper, once lethargic and sluggish, now seemed far more energetic, curiously nosing at the fresh spring grass.

"Chief! Chief! The long-necked alpacas are shedding! The wild cattle are shedding, too! Even the rabbits are losing fur! But Bumper isn't. Chief, why doesn't Bumper grow fur? Is it because he's not fully grown yet?" Sickly asked in rapid succession.

"Bumper is a rhinoceros," Rogan explained patiently. "Unlike woolly rhinos, his kind never grows thick fur—just a fine layer of bristles. Even when he's fully grown, he won't have a coat like the others. Got it?"

"Chief, is the outside world fun? Every time you come back, you bring more people," Sickly continued.

"Fun? Not at all. This time, we nearly died. We barely made it back alive," Rogan said grimly. "So you'd better grow up fast. Once you're older, you can protect yourself—and our tribe."

Sickly clenched his fists. "I will! When I grow up, I'll learn archery! I'll hunt lots of prey for the tribe!"

"That's the spirit. Now go play—we have work to do."

"Okay!"

With that, Sickly ran off toward the riverbank, Bumper trotting close behind.

On the shore, the Han women pulled the wooden boats to the westernmost end of the artificial canal, where the heavy baskets of ore were carefully unloaded.

Once the boat was emptied, Rogan and his crew rowed back to the eastern shore, where the Rat Tribe awaited their turn.

For the first time in their lives, the Rat Tribe boarded a wooden boat. Adults and children alike marveled at the experience, running their fingers through the river's surface as the vessel glided across the water.

At eight meters long, the boat nearly spanned the entire width of the river. With ropes tied to both ends, the tribespeople simply pulled it across—turning it into an impromptu bridge.

One by one, the Rat Tribe climbed aboard, crossing to the western shore.

From that moment on, the Rat Tribe ceased to exist.

They were now one with the Han Tribe.