Chapter 7: A Night of Celebration, Conversation, and

The Warriors under Jier's command excitedly helped the Villagers prepare for tonight's celebration.

Whole barrels of freshly brewed ale were rolled out, and some salt-cured meats were taken out, scrubbed with clean water, and prepared to be sliced, roasted, and heated shortly. The bread ovens were also relit, and after the ovens were blown hot, new dough was pushed inside.

Since there was to be a celebration, one certainly couldn't eat stale bread; if one was going to eat, one had to eat bread fresh from the oven!

Taking advantage of the residual heat on the surface of the ovens, some flatbreads were also pressed against the outside of the ovens to be quickly baked; these could be rolled up with fresh vegetables and cured fatty meat, then dipped in sauce to eat.

The farm women of Lanse-Qingting Cunzi even brought out their own proudest skills, showing off their best dishes to one another, and piled these fragrant foods onto the long tables moved into the open space.

The Villagers contributed their own drinking cups, but since there weren't enough cups, they brought out Wooden Bowls as well, and the tapped ale barrels poured out bowl after bowl of ale with a gurgling sound.

The aroma of the ale soon drifted out, mixing with the scents of various foods, and accompanied by the excited laughter of the children, it turned into a nostalgic scent unique to festivals.

There were also Villagers who knew how to play instruments; at this moment, one came to the center of the open space, sat alone on a round stool, gently tuned their cherished instrument, and hummed a couple of times to test their voice.

"Those distant green mountains..."

They cleared their throat twice, then continued to sing: "Have a group of brave people..."

But soon, they realized this story had a bad ending, so they stopped chanting.

Afterward, they switched to a different poem: "On that most wonderful midsummer night..."

"A youth leaped joyfully to the maiden's window..."

Although this song had nothing to do with the content of tonight's celebration and was a love poem, the story had a perfect ending, so there was nothing inappropriate about it; thus, they carefully recalled the entire poem so as not to forget the lyrics when performing later.

Jier watched this busy scene, filled with high spirits, and took a satisfied deep breath; his entire body felt a few pounds lighter.

He stretched, picked up a large, unclaimed drinking cup, and filled it to the brim with ale for himself.

He then sat by the fire, eating small bites of the 'Monster meat snacks' he had taken from his waist pocket, while contentedly drinking his ale.

The ale in Lanse-Qingting Cunzi was of average quality, but it had the advantage of being freshly brewed, so the taste was decent; Jier was satisfied—a small snack, a sip of ale—just watching everyone busy at work, feeling content.

Only at this moment did he have a tangible feeling that his adventure to rescue those abducted Villagers was the right thing to do.

After all, back at Changmai Cunzi, facing the heavy atmosphere where everyone was in mourning for their heavy losses, he truly hadn't been able to tangibly feel that he had done a great good deed.

To do a good deed, there must be a good result, or there should be a celebratory event that serves as a sort of landmark conclusion; but the Villagers of Changmai had too many troubles afterward, which instead left Jier without such a feeling.

And now, this need of his had been satisfied by Lanse-Qingting Cunzi.

But Jier did not know that ever since he arrived at Lanse-Qingting Cunzi and met the Old Priest, the worldly-wise Old Priest Ruiduokasi had keenly sensed that beneath Jier's seemingly calm emotions, he was in great need of such a celebration.

Jier needed such a ritualistic, performative themed celebration to provide a final annotation to his series of adventurous actions.

To Jier, this was more important than any treasure.

Although Jier had never spoken of this thought or requirement, the Old Priest had sensed it, which was why he had specifically brought out the Harvest Festival celebration supplies to be used now.

The Old Priest was currently being helped out of the Church, and he caught sight of Jier sitting alone by the fire, eating and drinking.

He saw that although Jier sat alone, he wore a satisfied smile, and every passing Villager and Warrior would raise their cup in greeting. Thus, the Old Priest nodded, knowing he hadn't misjudged Jier's deep-seated needs; not wanting to disturb Jier's current state, he said to the young man and woman helping him: "Let's walk around the area; take me to see those young people who were rescued—I want to hear what they saw for themselves."

After a while, the Warriors and drivers under Jier's command had all finished bathing, and one by one, they gathered comfortably at the caravan, excitedly talking about their own feelings at this moment.

Weier was not there, and Jier asked only to find out that the handsome-looking fellow had actually been invited by a beautiful village maiden and had gone off alone to fetch water to bathe at the maiden's house.

"Damn it! Is having a good-looking face such a big deal?" Aoni muttered through gritted teeth.

"Ha, sorry, having a good-looking face really is a big deal." Weier didn't know when he had walked back; he hadn't actually boldly gone on a date with a village maiden—it wasn't that he couldn't, but that he didn't want to.

Weier's heart was full of thoughts of accumulating strength and seeking revenge; how could he waste his energy on such meaningless things?

Having this time to build good relationships with his companions in the team was more useful; after all, although the combat level of each of these Warrior companions was quite average, they were a force nonetheless, a force that was still growing.

This force was also helpful to Weier's revenge plan.

Not to mention anything else, if Weier had a fully armed squad of thirty men, he could make a name for himself in certain regions. Relying on this force to control some remote, small Villages was also possible; by using these small Villages as a Jiedian to develop, perhaps in just over a decade, he could step by step grow larger and accumulate an army for revenge.

Even if he didn't take the path of direct confrontation, such a team of Warriors could, through ambushes and assassinations, kill one or two of the high-ranking members of the enemy family that attacked his own, which could also be considered a direct and straightforward way of revenge.

"Perhaps leaving behind a wonderful memory with a village maiden is nice, but I think being gathered here with everyone at this time is a more correct thing to do."

Weier picked up a cup of ale and held it high: "Let us toast this cup to our leader, Knight Jier! May his martial luck be prosperous!"

"To Lord Jier, may your martial luck be prosperous!"

Everyone raised their cups to celebrate.

Jier laughed a few times, also raised his cup, and gulped down the ale.

At this time, the Villagers had finished their celebratory preparations, and Jier's men had finished bathing, so they all set aside their tasks, picked up various water buckets and washbasins, and ran to the village pond to fetch water to take home.

Once the Villagers had all finished cleaning themselves at home and stepped out of their houses feeling light and relaxed, tonight's celebration officially began.

Of course, Jier and his men didn't care about much; as the absolute protagonists of the night, they had already started eating and drinking.

Surrounded by a dazzling array of food, everyone ate, drank, danced, and sang. Some Warriors sang bawdy country tunes from their hometowns, causing everyone to burst into laughter; some Warriors performed the martial arts they had just learned on the spot, pairing up with companions to show off their skills to Jier.

Jier didn't know whether to laugh or cry; in his view, these guys' martial arts were complete nonsense, but since the atmosphere was right, it wasn't easy to scold them, so he could only comment tactfully: "It's quite suitable for performing during a celebration."

Fortunately, by this time, the Villagers had also finished washing up and, after changing into clean new clothes, naturally joined Jier and his men in the celebration.

Once the middle-aged Villager uncle, who was skilled with instruments and seemed to have been a Bard for two years, plucked his seven-stringed lyre, the entire scene went quiet.

A sweet love poem story was sung from the man's mouth, making the young men and women at the scene look dreamy, and the atmosphere became heated.

The beautiful maiden who had looked for Weier earlier found him again and boldly pulled and dragged Weier out of the pile of Warriors, walking together into the shadows not far away.

Aoni's eyes turned red watching this, and he shouted loudly at Weier's back: "You brat! Remember we have to set off tomorrow morning! Don't forget the time!"

Weier waved his hand and walked away with a bitter smile, his arm around the maiden's shoulder.

At this time, several more village maidens walked over boldly, which made this group of Warriors under Jier turn into old wolves, howling and showing off their strong bodies.

But the maidens didn't care whether you were strong or not; they were looking at whether you were handsome or not.

It was a pity that Jier himself couldn't be counted as handsome, and coupled with the fact that he wasn't wearing his armor that added to his aura and dignity, dressed in the same loose clothing as everyone else, Jier had nothing special about him other than being taller and stronger than the others.

It was Sipulu who, despite being reticent, caught the eyes of the village maidens with his figure as he sat alone to the side; two young maidens actually started arguing over who would invite Sipulu.

This was very surprising to Sipulu himself.

The maiden who won the argument eventually pulled Sipulu away; they first joined the Villagers in the dancing, and after dancing for a while, they twisted and turned their way off to some unknown place.

Everyone watched with envy and began cursing Weier and Sipulu.

Afterwards, three more young Warriors from the Warrior group were invited away to go off and have fun together.

The Warriors looked at one another, and everyone expressed that they were numb, completely numb. They scattered one after another to join the Villagers' celebration, hoping to also have an unforgettable memory this night.

"Are you a bit surprised? How are the young girls in my Cunzi so enthusiastic?"

The Old Priest, supported by a pair of young boy and girl, stepped away from the Villagers' celebration, and only then came over to speak with Jier.

"It's not that much of a surprise. Because I know that within a Cunzi, one cannot always intermarry internally. Otherwise, such a Cunzi would collapse and dissipate from within in just a few generations."

Jier raised his wine cup to gesture toward the Old Priest and said this.

The Old Priest was somewhat surprised; he had not expected that Jier, a young Knight from an outer province, would actually know this rare knowledge that Cunzi Priests are specifically taught.

"Hehe, I underestimated you, Warrior Jier. Yes, for villages like ours, we cannot blindly exclude outsiders; on the contrary, we very much welcome the young men and women of this Cunzi to go out, and we also welcome outsiders to settle in the Cunzi. The more remote the small Cunzi, the more it must do this. Otherwise..."

When the Old Priest said this, he let the two half-grown children from Changmai Cunzi who had been supporting him walk off to play by themselves. Only after they had walked away did he continue: "Otherwise, the next generation of children born in the Cunzi will develop all sorts of problems. Being dull-witted, unable to learn, or having abnormal facial features—these are still minor problems."

He shook his head: "Being born with physical disabilities, being born suffering from a bloodline Curse, not living to adulthood, and some even more terrifying bloodline mutations are all possible. In the most extreme cases, some terrifying humanoid Monsters might even be born."

"Oh?" Jier was somewhat surprised. The initial explanation seemed to match the results of inbreeding, but the situations that appeared later were more likely the result of the infiltration and influence of supernatural forces from another world.

"Can the union of humans give birth to Monsters? What do they look like?" Jier asked curiously.

The Old Priest was unwilling to say more, only describing them simply: "They are human, but they eat humans, and are very adept at preying on humans. They often possess some terrifying abilities and are highly regarded by some evil existences, who specifically go to recruit them."

"Therefore, in human civilized society, these situations are often paid special attention. This situation mostly appears in areas controlled by Evil God cults; those evil existences, in order to obtain some special subordinates—some Monsters possessing special skills—will deliberately control and create this situation."

The Old Priest shook his head: "When I was young, I also followed some Knights to wipe out a few similar areas. It often required completely eliminating everyone in an area to thoroughly clean it up. It is very terrifying, both the situations in those areas and the methods the Knights used to handle them."

Jier's expression was heavy, and he said cautiously: "I can imagine it."

"Let's not talk about those heavy topics; you young people probably don't like these things, right? Haha, come, eat more, drink more; these are what you deserve, you ought to enjoy such a celebration! Jier, come, tell me the story from your perspective of how you defeated the enemy and rescued the Villagers."

The Old Priest seemed to like viewing the same event from various perspectives; this was quite a peculiar way of behaving, and Jier did not know what his intention in doing so was.

But Jier did not mind, and he told the Old Priest his story, with some parts edited out, from his own perspective.

Jier did not go into much detail, but the two of them still talked until midnight.

Among this, the existence of and the process of coming into contact with the Magic Apprentice Yamila left the Old Priest deep in thought.

"This point is very important, perhaps you realize it, Jier, or perhaps you don't. Her existence and purpose are linked to many people and many things. Thinking about it carefully, one can even infer the thoughts of the upper echelons of the enemy country to the south."

The Old Priest was not a Cunzi Priest without experience; although he was indeed a Cunzi Priest, in reality, all of the more than ten self-governing villages of the Agricultural God Church in the southern Sasi County were established by him at the beginning, and he had been guiding and managing them until now.

Priests like Bata'er Jiaoshi of Changmai Cunzi and the Priest Feilina of Big Tree Cunzi were both his Apprentices. In other villages in other directions, the Cunzi Priests there were also mostly the Old Priest's Apprentices.

Even when these Cunzi Priests performed excellently and were promoted to other regions, they were all part of the Old Priest's faction.

And not counting the faction of his disciples and grand-disciples, the people the Old Priest himself had met and the events he had encountered while traveling north and south in his youth could not be explained simply in one night.

"I will report these things through Prayer, hoping they can help my Lord, and also help the believers in other regions. Sigh, war is just like this; often before it has officially begun, it has already brought countless influences to the people behind the war. No one can escape its influence. When war begins, His great power often increases exponentially. I hope this time the God of War can have mercy on the Warriors of both sides, as well as the people behind them. After all, behind every Warrior fighting on the front lines, there is often a family."

The Old Priest shook his head: "Warrior Jier, I am not saying to reject war; war cannot be rejected."

"When He appears before you, the one who turns their back and flees from Him dies first."

"The one who kneels and surrenders dies second."

"The one who fights hard dies third."

"The one who wins dies fourth."

"Only the one who wields a sword against war itself can ultimately survive."

"But war will never die; the one who survives will face Him again in the next war."

"Then, the wheel turns again, and the death continues."

Hearing this, Jier was filled with awe.

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