The Madre Mountains stretch for thousands of miles, extending from the Northwest to the Southeast, dividing the endless wilderness of the East from the extrely narrow western coastline. Rivers flow through the mountains, rging into the sea to the west, bringing lush greenery and vitality to the coast. But as one moves further north, amidst the green vitality of the mountainous land, there are patches of exposed yellow soil left uncovered by vegetation.
Looking out, the Northern Continent appears vast and desolate. Undulating barren hills extend for miles, with sparse shrubs increasing in number, clearly indicating a decrease in rainfall. At the edge of sight, a wide and tumultuous great river rushes from the west, taking a ninety-degree turn and charging towards the western sea. Faintly discernible is yet another plain near the river mouth with lush grasslands, an unexplored tribal hunting ground...
"With the testimony of the Three Gods! I am the last Divine Descendant of Tarasco, the final bloodline of the Divine Eagle! Follow , Fei Yu, and we shall survive!... Do not rush; we are retracing our ancestors' path southward, returning to the nest where the feathered birds first flew, returning to the legendary golden mountain river!… Don't be afraid! Even if the xica are protected by an Evil God, they cannot obscure the land of the original ancestors... Ancestors bless us! Follow , keep moving to the Northwest! There will be food in the Northwest!…"
"Ah! With the testimony of the ancient Craftsman God! My mother is a Divine Descendant of Tekos, so I am naturally a Divine Descendant of Tekos as well! You, Tekos Tribe, are my family!... What, you have no food left and want to leave? This area is vast; where will you go? Go back to find your City-State's Divine Descendant? Have you gone mad? Sand Eye City must have fallen to the xica, and your Divine Descendant is surely long dead!… Damn it! I, Fei Yu, am also a Divine Descendant of Tekos. Shout again, and I'll cut you down to make jerky! Keep walking!…"
"Damn it! You mixed-bloods born of the Tekos and Wilderness Tribes, you've been leading us for ten days! How far is that village anyway? Do you even have any idea? What, you're asking what 'idea' ans? I'll kick you into the river!… Look carefully, where exactly is that prosperous village by the river you ntioned?… I have so many mouths to feed here; if we don't find a village or encampnt to plunder, I'll eat you!…"
The moist sea breeze blows, and the majestic mountains stand tall. A migrating tribe of thousands, appears gradually from the southern coast. Weary and in tatters, they struggle along the coastal mudflats, like a flock of weary geese trudging towards the great river in the North.
This tribe is clearly divided into three parts; the periter is sward with scouts, resembling countless spider legs. The number of scouts, perhaps several hundred, is clearly far beyond normal proportion, as if they are constantly on guard for sothing. Beyond the scouts' line of defense, are two separate groups, each numbering two to three thousand people.
Upon closer inspection, the vanguard splits into camps, marching in an orderly fashion. They are the warriors of this tribe, its fighting strength. The rear is a chaotic mix, with many disheveled won, many children without clothes, and so young adults maintaining order, all mbers of the tribal families. However, the number of warriors in this tribe is noticeably high, far exceeding the normal ratio of a hunting tribe...
The sea wind howls, a tattered feather flag with a flying feather of the Divine Eagle signifies their clan identity. Though they resemble the Wilderness Dog Descendants and straddle the boundary of the wilderness, they do not co from it... They hail from the relentless fighting among the Highland Tribes, the last clan to fly the flag of the Tarasco Kingdom, the only clan resisting the xica for ten years, the Feather Clan!
"Blessings of the Three Gods! Blessings from the Ancestors! We finally see the great river! Keep moving, my samurai, my brothers! When we reach the river, we will rest, drink water, and raid that prosperous village!…"
The Feather Prince Pengguari wears a worn leather armor, leaning on a sturdy long spear, his face half covered in sweaty dirt and half in soot as if freshly erged from a coal mine. The noble feather crown on his head is gone, replaced by a tangled bird's nest, and the obsidian necklace around his neck is missing, instead carrying a pair of shoes with holes. Presently, all Feather has left on him is a piece of leather armor, shorts, a pair of straw sandals, a water bag, a dagger, and a long spear.
If the Family Head of the Sky, Oorta, appeared here again and saw his sworn enemy Feather, he would surely be puzzled: Is this truly the honorable nobility, the self-proclaid prince of Feather? Isn't this more like a runaway mine slave from Blackstone City's mining district?...
However, flags don't lie, nor do spears deceive. Even if Feather has gone from nobility prince to a beggar general, his "Caravan of Life" is firmly under Feather Pengguari's grip. Over two thousand warrior relatives from the Feather Clan are his greatest reliance for traversing the world and fleeing wherever!
Reflecting on this, Feather Pengguari glances around, looking at his samurai and brothers, a sense of ambition and strength rises within him. Surrounding him are over two thousand neat Feather Clan warriors in the vanguard, each clad in leather armor!
These Feathered Warriors grip long spears tipped with bronze, so carrying visibly powerful greatbows, uncertain whether self-made or taken from the ten-year war with the xica. Currently, though ragged and disheveled, their leather armor covered in dust, the warriors remain calm and practiced. Clearly, they are veteran warriors, survivors of a decade of battles.
"My Feather Clan! My bravest samurai and brothers! Brave, brave you are!... You have endured with the copper arrows and javelins of the xica, withstood the Copper Beasts of Thunderbolt artillery impacts, survived the exploding clay tribulus, endured the charging spear formations and battle axes… We ran together, over mountains and forests, across plains and swamps, to this vast northwestern seaside, a good place where no tribe can be seen… Damn it, that's all I'll say! Follow , that's the essence of it! Keep following !"
"Yes! Follow the Clan Leader!..."
The response from the vanguard warriors was sowhat listless, but that was to be expected. After all, the group had just trudged through a swamp, losing a few lives of their mixed-blood scouts in the process, so morale was low. In any case, they were a single clan with families to care for, and having fled for so many years, there was no chance of splitting up, nor was there anywhere else to go.
Under the escort of these Feathered Warriors, about a thousand tribespeople led the way. The tribespeople's clothing was a hodgepodge of leather, grass, and loincloths, vastly different from one another, and their tribal origins were unknowable. Among them, it was clear that so were familiar with the local terrain, perhaps Willjow people. Whether voluntarily or not, they were leading this clan to find a "supposedly prosperous riverside village." And this was the only source of sustenance for the food-scarce Feather Clan, short of resorting to cannibalism...
"Hoo! Hoo! We've reached the riverbank! ... Gulp! Drink your fill and fill up your water pouches before we set off again!"
Feather Pengguari squatted at the bustling Xihe River, vigorously scrubbing his sunburned face until he washed off layers of black mud. The sun was scorching, and his body was drenched in sweat, clearly feeling a lack of salt, yet the clan's salt reserves were nearly depleted. This escape was perilous and urgent, and the northwest coast they were fleeing to was impoverished and desolate...
"O Three Gods! That damned wicked monkey! How dare he secretly assemble Gold Spear warriors to ambush my camp outside Sand Eye City Valley! Fortunately, I wasn't careless and had already dispatched scouts to keep an eye on the south... The mont they noticed any signs of xica warriors gathering, I beat a swift retreat!"
"Gulp! Hoo! Ancestor! I led the clan, fleeing non-stop for half a month, traversing two arduous swamps that even a great army struggled with! We must be at least five hundred miles from the Sand Eye City Valley now, right? That monkey may as well fly—he still can't catch up to !"
"Haha! It's not that I'm afraid of him; I just don't want to engage with him anymore! He's always relentless, never allowing a mont of peace, constantly thinking of hacking to death for sacrifice... Bah! I'm heading straight back to the Origin Mountains of the northwest, returning to the ancestral lands of our forefathers who headed south! With ancestral protection this ti, if that monkey dares to follow, he'll et my blade!"
"Ah! The village! The village! ... Chieftain, look! That's it, the particularly prosperous village!"
At the Xihe River, the Willjow chieftain shouted with excitent, pulling on Feather Pengguari's arm, pointing frantically toward the river's northwest estuary.
"What? We've finally arrived?! Great! Ancestral protection! Watch seize it..."
Feather Pengguari's eyes widened with greed as he peered toward the seaside, indeed glimpsing a substantial riverside wooden fortress. But when he caught sight of the flag atop that wooden fortress, he trembled and dropped his water flask in shock, scrambling to lead the retreat!
"Damn it! I was careless again! ... It's that damn monkey; he's ambushed again! He took a boat and caught up to hack !"
"O Three Gods! Hurry, hurry! Abandon all miscellaneous items, throw all those damned mixed-bloods out as a shield!"
"Hurry up! What are you still looking at?... That's the xica Chief Divine's flag, it's the village of the Kingdom of the Lake! Feathered ancestor! ... rciful Chief Divine! I convert, isn't that enough?... Please stop pursuing, I beg you, spare !"
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