Chief, don't hit me in the face

Chapter 3: The Bronze Song of the Four Seasons!

The long street was filled with the chatter of neighbors—some said the Xia family’s “useless” sister and brother were ungrateful, others envied the happy life Xia Qi was about to begin, and still others worried about their own children, because regardless of gender, all young people of the appropriate age were required to participate in the Blood Survival Trial. “What’s one Xia Lingyue? Once you’ve established your tribe, plenty of pretty girls will be throwing themselves at you!” Aunt Xia, though furious, also breathed a sigh of relief—at least her genius son wouldn’t be held back by Xia Lingyue, or else their offspring would be nothing but a worthless bloodline. “I’ll remember this humiliation!” Xia Qi clenched his fists, a savage grin spreading across his face: “Once we reach the Wilderness, I’ll cut off Xia Ye’s head with my own hands and present it to Xia Lingyue!” “That’s right—now that’s my good son!” Aunt Xia praised him highly. The thatched hut was crude, with a floor packed down from yellow earth. In the very back stood a wooden plank propped up at its four corners by stones—this served as the “big bed.” On top lay two quilts; though covered in patches, they were still considered quite valuable possessions. In other households, there was nothing but a pile of withered rice straw; the more industrious ones might have woven a straw mat, but when it got cold, no amount of covering helped—the only way to stay warm was to shiver. On the left stood a wooden shelf holding several old earthenware jars and stone bowls. Don’t underestimate these items—in the Late Stone Age, before bronze vessels had become widespread, pottery-making was a sophisticated craft mastered by only a select few. When a man’s family presented two or three beautiful pottery pieces at a wedding, it was a tremendous source of pride! “You go boil some water; I’ll wash and skin the rabbit!” Xia Ye set down her back basket. Though the humble room was small, having her sister there made it feel warm. “You went out of town again? How many times have I told you—the wild beast tide has just ended, and it’s dangerous out there. Why don’t you ever listen?” Xia Lingyue pinched the bridge of her nose. Though exasperated, she also felt a touch of pride—this younger brother had never given her any cause for worry. She closed the door, brought over the brazier, and looked at the charcoal piled in the corner. Xia Lingyue smiled again. Other families burned firewood—not only was it smoky and choking, but it didn’t last long either. Whose yard isn’t piled high with firewood when winter sets in? Yet it’s still never enough to last the entire winter. Their household was different. Xia Ye would pile the firewood together, seal it with yellow clay, and after a single burning, he’d end up with these blackish lumps—which he called charcoal. Charcoal burns with intense heat and lasts a long time. Especially in winter, lighting a brazier at night and placing a clay pot filled with water on top not only keeps the room warm but also provides warm water to use in the morning. Not to mention the slums—even housewives in the city center would get deep cracks on their hands in winter from handling too much water. When the wind blew, the pain was excruciating, but Xia Lingyue didn’t have that problem; her fingers remained as white as green onions. Selling charcoal could be a livelihood—earning money and even affording meat—but Xia Lingyue never mentioned it, because she believed her younger brother would one day become a great tribal hero who would bring blessings to the people, rather than a charcoal seller wandering the streets just to make ends meet. “Sister, I need to talk to you!” After putting the rabbit meat in the pot to boil, Xia Ye sat down on the straw mat and began shaping the stone into arrowheads—a task Xia Lingyue usually handled, selling them to weapon shops to supplement the family’s income. “You’ve just recovered from a serious illness and haven’t fully regained your strength yet. Don’t overexert yourself—go rest!” Xia Lingyue was worried. That damned Xia Song—her younger brother had undergone a blood sacrifice. Though he’d miraculously survived, his body was frail, and he spent most of the year sick and bedridden. “By the way, how’s your eye? Let me take a look!” As Xia Lingyue spoke, she reached out to lift Xia Ye’s eye patch. “I’m fine!” Xia Ye flinched. In front of his sister, he always forced himself to endure the pain—otherwise, she’d worry. “Don’t move!” Xia Lingyue removed the eye patch and let out a gasp of surprise. Xia Ye’s left eye was no longer bloodshot and crimson; aside from a few scattered blood vessels, the iris and white of the eye were distinct, and his gaze appeared bright and lively. However, a blue halo encircled the outer rim of his pupil, lending his eyes an unusual beauty. The warm yellow light appeared again, drifting back and forth like flowing clouds. Thankfully, the needle-like stinging pain he’d felt in the past had subsided considerably. “Can you see?” Xia Lingyue held out her hand and waved it in front of Xia Ye’s face: “Is that glow still there?” “Mm-hmm!” Xia Ye blinked: “It’s still there!” “Have they gotten any fewer or smaller?” Xia Lingyue gently stroked her younger brother’s forehead to help him relax. “Still nine!” Xia Ye put his eye mask back on, and the glowing orb vanished immediately: “Don’t worry—it’s not like I’m actually blind!” “Even if he were blind, my little brother would still be handsome.” Xia Lingyue checked the door to make sure no one was peeking, then crawled under the bed. Holding a stone knife, she dug through the dirt and pulled out a large bundle of burlap. “What is it?” Xia Ye took it—who knew how long it had been buried? The burlap was completely rotted. “Open it up—it’s yours now!” Xia Lingyue’s gaze held a hint of sadness, for this was a memento from her father. Tearing open the burlap revealed a wooden box roughly one and a half feet square. No one knew how many years it had been buried underground, yet it showed no signs of decay whatsoever. In particular, the carvings of a hundred beasts and birds of prey on its surface remained vividly lifelike, as if they were about to leap out at any moment. This was undoubtedly the work of a master craftsman. “That’s some impressive carving!” Xia Ye praised it highly; the essence of every ancient ferocious beast and bird of prey emanated through the intricate lines. However, the most eye-catching feature was the central design. It resembles a character, yet is not a character! It resembles a beast, yet is not a beast! “This must be a totem, right?” Xia Ye speculated. In this post-civilization era, people believed that totems were vessels for the souls of their ancestors; by offering sacrifices and worshipping them, they would receive the ancestors’ protection and blessings. Over time, totems had become a tribe’s faith and symbol, representing its history, culture, and future! Seeing his sister nod, Xia Ye racked his brain but couldn’t recall any similar totems—at least none existed in the vicinity of the Xia tribe. “Don’t ask me—I don’t know either. It’s a treasure Father values more than his own life!” Xia Lingyue sighed: “He always says he wants to restore the tribe to its former glory!” Xia Wu’an was a displaced person! A “displaced person” refers to someone who has lost their home after their tribe’s destruction. While wandering, Xia Wu’an encountered the previous Xia tribal chief. Certain events unfolded during that time that ultimately led him to join the Xia tribe. Through his formidable martial prowess, he helped the Xia clan gain a firm foothold amid brutal tribal wars, earning himself the well-deserved title of the Xia tribe’s greatest hero. “Is this the totem of my father’s tribe?” Xia Ye opened the wooden box. Inside were three compartments lined with thick silk; in the far left compartment lay a bronze dagger. Xia Lingyue glanced at her younger brother. This was an expensive bronze artifact—even a common piece like this could fetch hundreds of dao coins on the market, let alone a memento from their father. Yet her brother showed no sign of elation or astonishment; he remained as calm and composed as ever. Such composure clearly marked him as someone destined for great things—and that pleased Xia Lingyue greatly. Xia Ye drew his sword! Clang. The blade scraped against the scabbard, producing a clear, ringing sound—like a bird’s song—that was exceptionally pleasing to the ear. “What a fine sword!” Xia Ye praised it highly. Even though the years of its forging were so ancient they could no longer be traced, the sword remained as polished as new. It reflected the glow of the charcoal fire, its splendor and elegance resembling the dance of a deity in full regalia! “It’s called ‘Song of the Four Seasons’!” Xia Lingyue reached out and placed her hand on the blade; a chill that soothed her soul washed over her, and the restlessness and unease in her heart vanished in an instant. “What a beautiful name! It’s so beautiful!” At first glance, Xia Ye fell in love with it. The blade was one chi long and three fingers wide, with no sharp edge; its graceful, flowing curves embodied the beauty of nature. Even more astonishing was that the blade and scabbard were adorned with patterns depicting the four seasons: spring sowing, summer growth, autumn harvest, and winter storage! Like a song! Like a poem! Like a painting! Those delicate lines exuded the breath of time, and those chiseled contours carried the essence of life—quiet and serene, happy and fulfilling. This is a ritual sword! “No wonder it’s not sharpened!” Xia Ye mused, glancing uncertainly at her older sister: “Is it mine?” Xia Lingyue rolled her eyes: “What do you think? You’re taking advantage and still acting all innocent!” “Hehe!” Xia Ye scratched his head, set down the bronze sword, and picked up the relic from the first slot on the right. He pulled back the animal hide to reveal a stone wrapped inside. “What’s this?” Xia Ye was puzzled. The stone was about the size of a walnut, translucent, and seemed to have a cluster of flames burning at its center. “The Spirit of the Ancestors!” As soon as Xia Lingyue spoke, Xia Ye’s hand trembled, and he nearly dropped the stone. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? If you break it, all hope for rebuilding the tribe will be lost!” Xia Lingyue quickly snatched the stone back and carefully wrapped it in animal hide. “Once you find suitable land in the Wilderness, take it out for the ritual. The spirits of our ancestors will build the ancestral altar and kindle the altar fire!” “Got it!” Xia Ye’s expression grew somber. The establishment of any tribe begins with the Ancestral Altar—it is the first and most central structure. During tribal wars, if the Ancestral Altar is toppled and destroyed, and the Ancestral Fire is extinguished, it signifies the tribe’s demise. As long as the Ancestral Altar stood, no matter how badly the tribe was battered, it would always have a chance to rise again. The third relic was a stone slab. “What is this?” Xia Ye was astonished. The stone slab was about the size of a palm, grayish-white in color, and featured a fragmented mural. Even more神奇 was that a tiny figure in the painting, with its right fist clenched, was extending its thumb and slowly moving it up and down! Was it giving a thumbs-up? Xia Ye figured this little figure must be very popular! “The core of the Hero’s Altar!” Xia Lingyue explained.