867: Chapter 57: Harnessing the People’s Sentint (6900)_3 867: Chapter 57: Harnessing the People’s Sentint (6900)_3 Confronted with that voice, the old Priest voiced his innermost profound fear: “The hardships brought by Fiery Fla Land and the Alliance of Independent Villagers…
indeed made our lives very tough.
But at least our lives have changed.
If the Mountain People in the future remain stagnant, just like in the past two hundred years, without any kind of change…”
“I would rather endure hunger, waiting for a different possibility.”
“Even if that possibility…
could lead to worse outcos.”
“I see…” The voice fell silent for a mont.
“Do you know of the Dragon God’s Emissary.” Then, the young voice slowly began, “In the legends of the Mountain People, those Heroes who brought revolution and change, they once inaugurated a most golden era and also sustained the final glory of a weakening age.”
The old Priest too, fell silent for a mont.
He replied softly, “I have heard of them.”
“Now, the Dragon God’s Emissary has appeared.” The young voice said: “The Sacrificial Fla of Qiang Steel Sacred Mountain has been rekindled, the unrest in Xiawei Territory has been quelled, a new era is imminent.
The present is just a storm before the dawn of a brand new beginning, and it is destined to settle.”
The old Priest spoke gravely: “I do not believe in the Dragon God’s Emissary.
It is but a legend.
Even if Holy Ground really shines again, it cannot fill the stomachs of children.”
“He can.” The young voice replied with conviction: “He has already fed the people of his domain, and he can do the sa for one more tribe, ten more, dozens more.”
“…”
Priest Fiotto fell silent for a long while.
In reality, he knew better than anyone, more clearly than that voice, that the other party was not lying.
Many from the Chonglin Tribe left not to join the army of the Independent Villagers, but to head to Xia Hui Territory to take refuge with the Dragon God’s Emissary they revered in their hearts.
They never returned, was it out of fear of the current atmosphere in Midra Autonomous Region, or did they believe they were no longer Mountain People and thus could ignore their compatriots back ho?
Would that self-proclaid Emissary of Dragon God from the White Folks truly treat them Mountain People without discrimination?
The Villagers of the Autonomous Region wouldn’t believe it, not until they saw actual proof; they didn’t dare to.
And furthermore…
“Why?”
The old Priest suddenly questioned angrily: “Why did our Heroes perish prematurely, why must our children endure such suffering—why are only we subjected to such severe constraints?”
“Because your Heroes had to face the Heroes of others.” The young voice responded to the question with a calm and indifferent tone: “Because you were too strong in the past and encountered a bad era.
It is a mistake, and mistakes will be rectified, I can assure you of that.”
“The most important thing is, Humans always foolishly use all sorts of inexplicable things to distinguish ‘you’ from ‘us’.”
“But I will not.”
The figure of the White Folk stepped out from the concealing mist, the Silent Voice Ring ensured that his conversation with the Mountain Folk Priest was unheard by anyone else; the children could only see the old Priest sitting expressionless in his seat, as silent as ever, only the elderly could see his figure.
The young Lord calmly stated: “‘You’ stand before , ‘We’ stand behind and beside .
My standards are just that simple.”
“Priest Fiotto, the people from your tribe do not wish to return, in reality, they want to tell you that they indeed have enough to eat and hope that you can co and have enough as well.”
“But there indeed are many scouts from Fiery Fla Land, we cannot let them disturb the target.
So, tell the distribution of tribes within Midra Autonomous Region and the layout of important facilities.”
“In doing so, you beco ‘us’.”
“I have prepared photos and videos here; they hope I can persuade you.
They know of your unwillingness and the anger from being isolated, believing you can assist —I might not be believed, but I indeed bring sincerity.”
Priest Fiotto remained silent for a long ti.
He had received this invitation long ago, but he had never made up his mind, so he had delayed, using the excuse of cooking for the children.
But now, he must make a choice.
The Priest lifted his head, looking at the children before him.
Emaciated boys and girls, their frail fras barely supporting their clothing, these children’s parents all died in the panic of the grain disaster, the subsequent civil war, and attacks from various frenzied beasts.
They should have had a happy childhood, even under the rule of The Empire, the Mountain People never had it so hard.
Fiotto saw.
He saw a child of just over six years old licking the bottom of a bowl.
Her parents died in the civil war between Jiamu Sect and the Rainbow Bridge Tribe; Rainbow Bridge Tribe lost, and most who went to them for supplies perished as well.
It had been a long ti since she had had enough to eat, not daring to waste even a droplet of food, so the child licked diligently, carefully.
Just as seventy years ago, he attentively listened to his father narrate the stories of the Dragon God’s Emissary behind the mountains of the tribe.
Yet for entirely different reasons.
“…I hope there will be a good price.”
Closing his eyes, Priest Fiotto leaned into his chair, his once-straight spine bent after making his decision, growing frail like a true elder: “Dragon God’s Emissary…
Ha ha, whether you are real or fake, as long as you can bring change…
then I have no choice but to believe.”
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