Chapter 098: First Encounter with the Wandering Tribe

"Chief, are you alright?" Da Shu asked with concern.

Cough, cough… "I'm fine, not dead yet. Did the salt mine blow open? Help me up, I want to take a look."

Shaking off the dizziness still lingering in his head, Luo Chong steadied himself. Though he had been buried under the earth, he had luckily avoided the full force of the blast. His only discomfort was the brief suffocation, which a few deep breaths would quickly resolve.

Da Shu pulled Luo Chong up and let him regain his footing before they made their way toward the cave entrance, stepping into the heart of the explosion site.

What was once a narrow opening in the granite wall had now expanded into a gaping hole nearly four or five meters in diameter. Inside, large chunks of salt deposits were exposed, revealing a few traces of moisture—possibly summer seepage or remnants of brine.

Suddenly, amidst the piles of salt, Da Shu spotted something unsettling.

"What is that?" he asked, pointing at a few strange, contorted figures partially buried among the salt blocks.

"Those are mummified corpses," Luo Chong replied, his expression darkening. "They were probably children who ventured inside to mine salt and never made it out. The cave trapped them, preserving their bodies like dried meat. Judging by their condition, they must have been here for years. We'll gather some wood and give them a proper cremation."

Da Shu was silent, his heart heavy. He finally understood why Luo Chong had insisted that children should never mine salt.

Moments later, the rest of the tribe arrived, leading the oxen-drawn carts. As they took in the sight of the explosion's aftermath, an unshakable sense of awe spread through them.

"This… this was all done by our chief?" Mouse Da murmured as he gazed at the crater, then lifted his eyes to the now non-existent cave ceiling.

"Chief, where is your arrow?" he suddenly asked.

"My arrow? It's gone, of course," Luo Chong said nonchalantly. "Once it's shot, how am I supposed to find it? It probably got blown away in the explosion."

"You really opened the mountain with a single arrow?" Mouse Da still found it hard to believe.

Even the Mouse Shaman turned his gaze toward Luo Chong, eager to understand what had just transpired.

Luo Chong chuckled. "Of course not. It wasn't the arrow—it was what I brought in those clay jars. Without that, I could have fired a hundred arrows, and it wouldn't have made a difference."

His words were simple, but their meaning was profound. On the surface, he seemed to be dismissing any supernatural abilities. But upon deeper thought, the power he unleashed was his own creation—an ability no ordinary person possessed. In the eyes of his people, Luo Chong became even more enigmatic.

"Enough standing around. Get to work," Luo Chong ordered. "Someone go down and bring up the bodies so we can cremate them properly. The rest of you, start mining the salt—look for the pale yellow, translucent stones. Use the baskets to hoist them up, and load everything onto the carts."

As the tribe members moved quickly to carry out his instructions, a young voice spoke up beside him.

"Chief, I know them," Qu Bing said softly, tugging at Luo Chong's sleeve.

"You know who?" Luo Chong asked, puzzled.

"Those kids… they were my friends. We used to play together before they went into the cave and never came out."

Qu Bing pointed at the small, dried-up bodies being carefully lifted onto the funeral pyre. If they had lived, they would have been around his age by now.

Luo Chong sighed and patted the boy's head. "It won't happen again. No more children will be sent to mine salt. And now that we've opened the mine properly, no one will ever be trapped inside again."

Qu Bing nodded, his eyes red, but he quickly set himself to work gathering firewood.

As the thick smoke from the pyre curled into the sky, carrying away the fears and regrets of the past, Luo Chong turned to the tribe.

"Work quickly," he called. "Once the carts are full, we leave. We need to get back before dark."

"Yes, Chief!" the tribe answered in unison, their movements becoming even more efficient.

At that moment, far to the south, in the dense forest, the wandering tribe was making their way toward the salt mine.

"Brother, look! There's smoke rising over there. Do you think they've already started cooking? Maybe we can get a free meal," a young man asked his leader eagerly.

The leader, a strong, sharp-eyed man named Fu, frowned as he studied the distant smoke.

"I doubt it," he said. "Most tribes don't eat in the middle of the day—they wait until sunset. And don't forget that thunderous sound we heard earlier. This is more likely a funeral pyre. If they're burning bodies instead of food, I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"That makes sense… Still, I can't wait to see what's going on!" the younger man said, his curiosity renewed.

About an hour and a half later, the wandering tribe arrived near the salt mine, just as Luo Chong's people were preparing to depart.

Rustling sounds came from the forest, followed by a low, wary growl from Rou Rou. The great beast turned its head toward the south, ears flaring, then let out a deep bellow.

"Enemies approaching! Stay alert!" Luo Chong, still astride Hui Shan, raised his bow in an instant, an arrow already drawn to full tension, aimed at the source of the sound.

The tribe members reacted immediately, brandishing their bronze-tipped spears and nocking arrows, ready for battle.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" Luo Chong called.

A moment later, a man emerged from the undergrowth, both hands raised in a gesture of peace. He was unarmed and spoke rapidly in a dialect Luo Chong couldn't understand.

Luo Chong remained cautious—he knew there were more people hidden in the forest.

"Everyone, come out. Now," he commanded. "Or I shoot him where he stands."

To emphasize his point, he loosed an arrow at the ground near the stranger's feet.

The man flinched, taking a step back. He had never seen such a weapon before. That tiny wooden stick had flown so fast—if Luo Chong had wanted him dead, the arrow would already be lodged in his chest.

Realizing this was just a warning shot, the man quickly scanned the faces in Luo Chong's group. Then, switching to another dialect, he said, "Friends! We were here last spring. We are from the Wandering Tribe. Does your bald chief still lead you?"

In the crowd, three men from the former Xie Ding Tribe stiffened in surprise.

That dialect… It was their mother tongue.