Chapter 35: A New Era

The fire in the hearth blazed vigorously, warmth spreading throughout the room. Aqing knelt beside the Feather Shaman, speaking softly about various matters, such as her awakening within the lotus.

When she mentioned that a wingless being had once spoken with her, the Feather Shaman, whose brows had been tightly knit, finally relaxed. His muddled mind seemed to clear a little.

“All right, all right. The Feather God watches over you. You must shoulder the responsibilities of the Feather Tribe...”

He began to ramble once more, repeating himself before long. Though he had always been clever, now he was growing confused.

After repeating himself twice, the Feather Shaman let out a long sigh.

The Feather God favored Aqing.

With that, nothing remained to trouble him.

In a moment of haze, he thought he saw a figure—the deity who, one hundred and seventeen years ago, bestowed the fruit of the Feather God.

“You have done well.”

Suddenly, a clear voice reached his ears, startling the Feather Shaman. He stared wide-eyed, unable to believe it at first, but soon grew certain, for he saw Aqing beside him, her face equally astonished.

“Though I never sent you dreams nor gave you instructions, the efforts you made for the Feather Tribe please me greatly.”

Liang Yuan’s form appeared in the wooden house. He stood before the fire, gazing at the Feather Shaman with a smile.

Yes, Liang Yuan was truly satisfied with the Feather Shaman.

He had once guided King Quan Xi of the Merman for fifty years, but in the end, a rotten log cannot be carved. In his later days, Quan Xi became greedy for pleasure, afraid of death; even in his final moments, he still longed for immortality, even resenting Liang Yuan somewhat.

But the Feather Shaman before him received not a day of guidance, and yet remained devoted, establishing the shamanic system and making the imaginary “Feather God” a symbol for the tribe.

In terms of ability and openness, the shaman far outshone the Merman King.

“Feather God, please save the Feather Shaman.”

Aqing’s voice echoed in Liang Yuan’s ear. Liang Yuan looked at the Feather Shaman and asked, “Do you wish to live on?”

Unlike with the Merman King, Liang Yuan felt a strong sense of tolerance toward the Feather Shaman. If he wished, Liang Yuan was willing to grant him a breath of vital energy, to extend his life for another decade or so.

“My era has ended.”

The Feather Shaman shook his head, weary.

It was cruel to entrust a newly founded tribe to a child, but he was utterly exhausted.

Once, he wished to live on only for Aqing’s sake.

But now, Aqing had received the god’s favor. What remained for him to worry about? Who in this world could be more dependable than a god?

“Yes, the old era has ended, and a new era begins.”

Liang Yuan nodded in agreement.

Since the Feather Shaman did not wish it, he would not force him to stay.

“God, I have only one wish.”

Suddenly, the Feather Shaman remembered something, raising his head in prayer: “I beg you to protect Aqing, to protect the Feather Tribe...”

“God loves all people.”

Liang Yuan said, “One hundred and seventeen years ago, you saw me, and with your companions, you painted the Feather God. Thus, the Feather God shall naturally protect you.”

“But this Feather God may not be me.”

Liang Yuan’s words puzzled the Feather Shaman; he did not understand.

“Have you not already chosen a new totem?”

With that, Liang Yuan did not continue the topic.

The feeling of parting stirred in Aqing’s heart, like a stone dropped in water, sending ripples across the surface.

She raised her head, gazing at Liang Yuan, her eyes clear: “Feather God, is there any way for the Feather People to escape death?”

Liang Yuan looked at Aqing and replied, “All things in heaven and earth shall perish; dust returns to dust, earth to earth... To seek longevity seems to defy the heavens, but if one wishes for long life, one must follow the flow of nature.”

He paused, glancing at the Feather Shaman and then at Aqing: “Between heaven and earth, spiritual energy is born; between sun and moon, there is essence. To absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, and the essence of sun and moon, is to attain longevity.”

Aqing was uncertain, yet faintly thoughtful. She looked up at the full moon outside the window, unsure of its meaning.

The Feather Shaman’s breathing grew weak. Liang Yuan shook his head and walked out of the wooden house, no longer disturbing the pair whose bond was like father and daughter, or master and disciple.

The final moments belonged to them.

Yet the Feather Shaman was right.

His era...

No, their era had ended.

A new era was about to begin.

An era for cultivators, an era for extraordinary abilities.

Each generation has its task; the Feather Shaman’s mission was complete, and the future of the tribe belonged to Aqing.

...

He dreamed again.

A moment ago, the Feather Shaman had seen the Feather God, and the next, he found himself atop a desolate cloud.

Where was this place?

He did not know, but suddenly, a Milky Way fell from afar.

Stars glimmered across the sky, like countless silver beads embedded in the deep black night. The Milky Way stretched as a faint glowing band across the star-studded heavens.

Upon that river, a few figures appeared indistinct.

The Feather Shaman moved closer, standing at the shore, finally seeing who they were.

Yun Ning.

Yun Che.

His ten brothers.

The original Feather People.

Seeing those familiar faces, a tear slid from the Feather Shaman’s eye.

“Little Wu, come, come, let’s go play together!”

A familiar yet strange name surged into his mind.

Little Wu.

It was a vague name he had before awakening his spirit. He did not know where it came from, only that it referred to himself.

“Coming, coming...”

The Feather Shaman trembled, ready to go forward, when he noticed that beside his original brothers stood many others.

He recognized every face.

Guards clad in simple leather armor, slender maidens, erudite scholars, the character-makers...

They were Feather People who had passed away, companions who built the ancestral homeland of the tribe with him.

They were his comrades, his elders and juniors, his era.

Looking farther, he saw another group.

They were not Feather People; they had no wings, no legs, but possessed tail fins.

Kings crowned, faces stern; guards bearing spears and clad in iron armor... Each strong and brave, seemingly invincible.

Yet their faces were blurred, impossible to make out.

They were the Merfolk of the Royal Court, from Quan Xi’s tales.

Their faces were indistinct because the Feather Shaman had never met them, only knowing them as his century-old adversaries.

In the middle, between Merfolk and Feather People, on the river, stood a Merfolk with wings, honest-faced.

It was Quan Xi.

Soon, a gust swept through, scattering the sturdy Merfolk like sand in the wind, vanishing into the Milky Way.

Yes, now at this stage, what was there left to fear from such foes?

His companions called to him still, their voices urgent: “Little Wu, come, hurry, we’ve waited so long for you. If you don’t come, we’ll be gone.”

The Feather Shaman stood at the shore, anxious, unsure how to rejoin his friends.

Until he took the first step, walking into the Milky Way.

The sun that had shone upon the Feather Tribe for a hundred years had finally set.

Behind him, faint sounds of weeping echoed.

Standing in the Milky Way, he looked back and saw Aqing at the shore, crying as she bid him farewell.

“Aqing, do not cry.”

“My era has ended.”

“Now, the era belongs to you.”