There were thousands of mackerel pikes swimming in the sky, and they looked as if they had blotted out the sky. Whistling sounds reverberated in the air, and there were also quite a large number of these mackerel pikes who spread out around the perimeter as if patrolling the area.
Su Ming sat on top of a turtle that was 100,000 feet in size. There were nine members of Autumn Sea Tribe sitting around him. The levels of cultivation of these nine people were anything but ordinary. All of them were Medial Shamans.
They had Su Ming surrounded in the middle as if they were flanking him. It was an order from the male End Shaman.
There was a person lying beside Su Ming - the old Berserker. He could not move his body, but his mind remained clear. His heart was filled with shock from what he had seen previously.
He had originally not believed that Su Ming was a Soul Catcher, but the progression of events had made him hesitant. By that point, he was already completely uncertain as to who Su Ming was!
Su Ming remained silent as he sat on the turtle. His expression was calm and not a hint of what he truly felt in his heart could be seen. He was sitting on the second of the nine turtles. The first turtle right before was the male End Shaman’s ride.
From where Su Ming was, he could see the long-haired man whose back was turned towards him as he sat on the first turtle in the distance. That length of hair was something Su Ming had never seen before. He was also the first ever End Shaman Su Ming had ever seen before.
When he remembered that an End Shaman had the power equivalent to those who had attained great completion in the Berserker Soul Realm, Su Ming’s pupils shrank.
‘How many End Shamans are there among the Shamans..? There can’t be a lot of them. It’s just like how there are very few Berserkers who have attained great completion in the Berserker Soul Realm.’
Su Ming’s understanding towards End Shamans and Berserkers who had attained great completion in the Berserker Soul Realm was very limited. This was simply too far away to him.
‘It was just one gaze, and he already made a Berserker in the initial stage of the Berserker Soul Stage almost break down… and then he captured him just like that. The strength of an End Shaman should be considered as the peak in the Land of South Morning.
‘End Shaman… I wonder what his name is; he must be a famous person in the Shaman and Berserker Tribes.’ Without bringing any attention to himself, Su Ming started examining his surroundings.
The tribe was not moving quickly. When dusk arrived, the migrating tribe started slowing down. The members of Autumn Sea Tribe started setting up beast skin tents and building up bonfires skilfully on the desolate land. Everything was done in an orderly manner and there was not a hint of them scrambling about in their actions. It was as if everyone knew exactly what they had to do.
When dusk went by and the sky turned completely dark, the bonfires lit up the area. Even if they were a migrating tribe that was resting at that moment, the area which they occupied was still very large. At the very least, when Su Ming stood up and looked into the distance, he could only vaguely see the end of the line and was unable to determine just how big was this temporary tribal village.
The moon gradually peeked out from the clouds, and firelight flickered on the ground. Even though it was dark in the distance, the tribe was rather well illuminated. There were some children playing around, occasionally, playful laughter would ring in the air. Gradually, as the members of Autumn Sea Tribe brought out food and some of them started roasting meat over the bonfires, the aromatic scent of food filled the air, and bustling sounds permeated the air.
Su Ming sat beside a bonfire and took in everything. If he did not look at the Tattoos, he could even have a false impression that he was not sitting among Shamans, but among Berserkers.
It did not matter whether it was their food or their manner of living, everything between the two races were too similar. The only differences between them were their divine abilities and their Arts.
As Su Ming fell into a daze, he saw three children about seven or eight years of age on the other side of the bonfire. They wore beast skins and their hair was a little messy. They were playing tag. One of the children had big eyes and rosy cheeks; he looked very adorable.
The boy was running in front with cheerful laughter. His two friends chased after him.
"The two of you are too slow. I’ll count to three. If you still can’t catch up to me, then I won’t let you two play with this rattle drum."
The boy running in front held a round-shaped rattle drum with a handle connecting to the drum in his hand. However, the ground was not flat, and as he turned his head around to talk, he tripped over something and instantly fell to the ground.
When he fell, his two friends behind him immediately caught up to him, and the three of them instantly started playing together.
However, as the three of them played around, squabbling sounds started, causing Su Ming to look over.
"It’s your fault! You broke the rattle drum! It’s your fault!"
"My papa made this for me! You have to give it back!"
The boy who had fallen down previously had his head lowered at that moment and looked as if he was about to cry. The rattle drum he held in his hands now had a tear on it.
The two other children standing before him looked hurt and angry. The three of them started yelling at each other.
Things like this occasionally happened among children. Most of the Shamans around chose to ignore this when such arguments happened. Compared to the innocence of the children, the adult Shamans were feeling heavy-hearted, because before long, they would also have to join the battle, and perhaps in the end, very few of them would survive.
Su Ming looked at the three children and stared at the toy rattle in that boy’s hand before he stood up slowly. The instant he got up, the nine Medial Shamans surrounding him instantly trained their gazes on him, and guarded looks appeared in their eyes.
Su Ming ignored those nine gazes trained on him and started walking towards the three squabbling children.
The nine Medial Shamans frowned at Su Ming’s actions. One of them that was in between Su Ming and the three children stood up when he started walking over. He stared at Su Ming and was just about to open his mouth when his vision blurred. When the world before him became clear once again, he had already lost sight of Su Ming.
That person was momentarily stunned, before he turned his head around swiftly and saw Su Ming with his back towards him as he walked towards the three children.
As that person’s expression changed, the other eight reacted in the same manner. Just as all of them wanted to close in on Su Ming, they saw him arriving beside the three children. He stopped and crouched down.
"Let me see. Maybe I can repair it." Su Ming may have been wearing a mask, but the gentle look in his eyes and the soft tone in his voice was still as clear as day.
The three children were stunned, then looked at Su Ming with wide eyes.
"Uncle, can you repair the rattle drum?"
"My papa made it for me. It’s his fault that it’s broken."
"Uncle, please repair it. It’s my fault that it’s broken."
Behind Su Ming, the nine Medial Shamans who wanted to get closer came to an abrupt halt. They had heard Su Ming’s words and seen his actions.
Su Ming took the small rattle drum from the boy’s hands and examined it. At that instant, nostalgia appeared in his eyes. The similarities between the Shaman and Berserker Tribes had caused even the children’s toys to almost be the same.
For example, this rattle drum. Su Ming remembered that his elder had made one for him when he was young. It was a small rattle drum made using beast skins, and there was a small stone tied to both sides of the drum with strings made of straw. If he held it in his hand and turned his wrist a little, the small stones wrapped up in string would hit the surface of the drum and let out rattling sounds.
This was one of Su Ming’s favorite toys when he was young. He looked at the rattle drum in his hand and a smile appeared on his face under the mask. One side of the drum was torn, which was why no sound could be produced.
Su Ming lifted his hand and ripped off the torn beast skin, then ripped off a corner of the boy’s shirt, then placed it on the drum once again. Once he fixed it in place, he turned his wrist with the drum in hand, and instantly, rattling sounds appeared in the air.
The three children immediately started cheering, and excited looks appeared on their faces. Once they took the repaired rattle drum from Su Ming, two of them looked at each other, then ran into the distance excitedly.
"Uncle, thank you. I’m Abu." The boy who had previously broken the rattle drum when he fell waved at Su Ming and happily ran off to join his friends.
At that moment, Su Ming was not paying any mind to the blood feud between the Shamans and the Berserkers in the Land of South Morning, neither was he paying any attention to the war between both sides that would last for an unknown period of time next to Sky Mist City.
He looked at the innocent children and sighed.
"Brother Mo, I didn’t expect that you would help the children repair the rattle drum. You must have seen your past self in them." A cheerful voice came from behind Su Ming.
Along with those words came a young man dressed in a black robe with long hair that went down to his waist. The young man’s skin was fair, and there was a Tattoo of a mackerel pike at the center of his brows.
He looked slightly different compared to the other Shamans. Most of the time, the Shamans’ Tattoos covered their entire face, but this person’s Tattoo only covered the center of his brows. There was not a single hint of a Tattoo anywhere else on his face.
He walked from afar, and as he got closer, respect appeared on the faces of the nine Medial Shamans who were keeping close watch on Su Ming. The young man lifted his hand and waved at them, and the nine people quickly backed away.
"The past is no longer here." Su Ming turned around and cast the young man a flat look.
"The past may be gone, but we have to keep a tight grip of the present, because what you do know will decide your future." The young man also looked at Su Ming, but with a faint smile on his lips.
At that moment, their gazes met.
"I am Ya Mu, a Medial Soul Catcher from Autumn Sea Tribe." The young man spoke with a smile, then turned his gaze away from Su Ming, sitting down at a bonfire.
"Brother Mo, care to have a drink?" As the young man spoke, someone behind him immediately took a few brisk steps forward and placed two pots of wine by his side before backing down respectfully.
Su Ming sat down nearby and shook his head.
The young man brought up a wine pot and took a large swig from it once he opened it. Then he let out a long breath.
The young man placed the wine pot down, then said, seemingly casually, "Brother Mo, you came from the battlefield, right?"
"Why do you say that?" Su Ming asked calmly.
"I can smell the blood of Shamans on you. There must have been plenty of Shamans who died in your hands, you, who also happen to be the True Divinity Wind Berserker." The young man spoke slowly, but the moment he said those words, it was as if a chill hand closed in on Su Ming from within the bustling tribe.