Am I the old man who's always by my apprentices' side?

Chapter 307 Amu'ango Who Can Never Go Back
Just as the entire Mengshe tribe was preparing to resist with the determination to die for their clan, in the shadows unseen by everyone, He Yu, who had been frowning the whole time, gave Zhang Chengdao a slight nod.

The latter nodded slightly in response, then withdrew the spell and suddenly flew to Huobu Wucuo's side. He first made a hand seal to lock Huobu Wucuo's soul, which was faintly separated from his body, back into his body. Then he took out a bottle of [Golden Wound Medicine] and sprinkled it on Huobu Wucuo's wounds.

Zhang Chengdao's sudden appearance and actions shattered the solemn atmosphere. The burly, bearded man, the leader of the Mengshe tribe, glared at Zhang Chengdao and demanded, "Hey, what are you doing?!"

After asking the question, he was surprised to find that Zhang Chengdao's attire resembled that of someone from the Central Plains. So, while trying to stop Zhang Chengdao's actions, he repeated in very broken Central Plains dialect, "Who are you! What do you want!?"

However, how could a mere mortal like the bearded man possibly stop Zhang Chengdao?

With a flurry of movements, he swiftly applied the medicine to Huobu Wucuo, then pulled a small, still-steaming, brown clay cup with a strong medicinal smell from his backpack. He handed it to the bearded man and explained with a smile, "To save him, that was [Golden Wound Medicine], for external injuries. This is called [White Tiger Soup], for internal injuries. Find a way to get him to drink it, and he'll come back to life!"

Although the burly man with the thick beard had no good feelings towards the people of the Central Plains and was skeptical of Zhang Chengdao's words, at this moment, Huobu Wucuo, who was clearly beyond saving, was being told by this man that he could still be saved. So, even if the burly man with the thick beard didn't believe it, he gritted his teeth and, with a "nothing to lose" mentality, thanked him, took the "White Tiger Soup," and, supporting Huobu Wucuo who seemed to still be breathing, poured it into his mouth.

Whether it was the way they appeared from the sky, the act of conjuring objects out of thin air, or the act of claiming that someone who was clearly doomed could still be saved, all of these made the warriors of the various tribes freeze in place, not daring to make any move.

Coming down from the sky, isn't that a deity?
Even "Ango" and the warriors of the White Tribe unconsciously retreated several feet, watching Zhang Chengdao warily, not daring to rush in directly like they had done in the tribal brawl just now.

Zhang Chengdao glanced indifferently at "Brother An" and the people surrounding him, startling them so much that they took several steps back. He then turned to the burly man with the thick beard and said in a friendly tone, "You're right, that 'White God' isn't the White God at all. The King of Qin has already gone to track him down, so you can rest assured!"

The burly man with the thick beard looked somewhat bewildered: "The King of Qin? The King of Qin from the Qin King Temple?"

Although the worship of the Qin King was prevalent in the Sichuan and Chongqing area, it had few believers in the Yunnan and Yunnan regions. Apart from the people of the Central Plains and a few tribes that traded with the Central Plains, few tribes worshipped him.

However, although few, they are not non-existent. The local tribes here do not have the same exclusive beliefs as some religions in modern society. They can believe in both the Three Altars God and the King of Qin. Therefore, many tribes also have temples dedicated to the King of Qin, but they are very small and have few believers.

At least the burly man with the thick beard knew who the King of Qin was.

It seems like he was a person from the Central Plains thousands of years ago.
Can people from the Central Plains live for thousands of years?
In an instant, the burly man with the thick beard was filled with doubt. He stared with his big, bull-like eyes, not knowing which question to ask!

"The King of Qin is a god of the underworld, also known as Yama, who is in charge of life and death. All the dead in the world are under his jurisdiction. Although the Three Altar Gods are gods on your side, they are also our colleagues. This time, an evil spirit has impersonated the White God, so of course we have to take care of it!"

Zhang Chengdao explained half-truthfully, silently adding to himself: Anyway, with this strong faith, once the spiritual energy is fully restored, the Three Altars God will appear sooner or later. Future colleagues are still colleagues!
The burly man with the thick beard spoke a poor Central Plains dialect, but he could understand it. Although Zhang Chengdao's words were complex, he understood them, but he frowned and asked hesitantly, "Then who are you, god?"

In the burly man's logic, since the King of Qin who went after the fake White God was a god, then the person in front of him who came with the King of Qin must also be a god.

That's right!

If he weren't a god, how could he have a full head of white hair but no wrinkles on his face and look younger than himself?
If he wasn't a god, how could he have brought the dying clan chief back to life? And how could the fake white god have remained silent ever since he appeared?

This man from the Central Plains must be their god!
The burly man with the thick beard became more and more certain in his mind, and his eyes became bright and alert.

Meanwhile, it was only at this point that many warriors belatedly realized that the "White God," who had seemed so terrifying just moments before, had suddenly vanished without a trace!

Zhang Chengdao replied with a smile, "Hehehe, I don't have any divine position. I'm just the sect leader of the White Stone Immortal Sect, a cultivator. In truth, I can't be considered a god. If you're willing, you can call me 'Immortal Master'!"

“This venerable immortal,” the burly man with the thick beard said haltingly because he spoke the Central Plains dialect poorly, “Since you are an ‘immortal’ from the Central Plains, do you also recognize our Three Altar Gods? Please ask the Three Altar Gods what happened to them and why they allowed something unclean to impersonate them?”

The burly man with a thick beard spoke, his eyes filled with deep worry.

Compared to the so-called "omniscient and omnipotent" gods that many groups fabricate, the local deity worship in Yunnan and Yunnan is not about seeking "God to help everything." The earliest worship of local deities was actually a form of respect and worship without expecting anything in return.

As things developed and evolved, these local deities were gradually required to have the responsibility of protecting the local area. However, in general, the people's belief in their local deities still leaned towards ancestor worship.

And those who worship their ancestors naturally also have worries, such as whether something has happened to their ancestral deity or if they have been injured. More extreme cases might involve…

"Yes, Immortal Master, do our Three Altars Gods need offerings? Our Mengshe tribe has several hundred slaves; we can kill them for sacrifice!"

Someone who understood the Central Plains dialect also took the initiative to strike up a conversation with Zhang Chengdao, but what they said almost made Zhang Chengdao lose his smile.

He was so moved by Huobuwucuo's actions and admired the bravery and perseverance of the Mengshe tribe that he almost forgot that the various tribes in the Yunnan-Guizhou region were still slave societies!

"This one……"

Zhang Chengdao carefully organized his thoughts and said tactfully, "Gods don't actually need human sacrifices. Those who are able can offer some food, those who aren't can light some incense, and those who have nothing at all can simply have faith in their hearts. Human sacrifices... are against the natural order and not good for the gods..."

The warriors were shocked upon hearing this and began to bombard each other with questions:

"Really!? Was the White God injured because everyone sacrificed too many slaves?" "Actually, the Three Altar Gods are ignoring us! Are they angry because of the slave sacrifices?"

"Our Mengshe tribe doesn't have many slaves for its rituals, does it? Slaves are so precious! My mother still needs the slaves in the house to do chores!"

"But the Wang, Mang, and Heibo tribes kill more than a dozen slaves every year for sacrifice! It's all their fault!"

"What should I do?"

“My younger brother married a girl from the Heibopu tribe. Should I have him talk to them and ask them to stop killing slaves for sacrifices?”

"Will their clan leader listen to this?"

"probably not……"

Seeing that the discussion was getting more and more off-topic, Zhang Chengdao had to cough lightly. He estimated the speed at which a 'god of faith' could be born in a world where spiritual energy was recovering, and reassured everyone again: "Ahem, actually you don't need to be anxious. The reason why the three altar gods have not yet responded to you is because they are still asleep. It may take several years, or even several decades, before they can awaken."

He then added, "So, it is precisely because they are asleep that evil spirits have had the opportunity to impersonate the White God and deceive you..."

After hearing these words, everyone calmed down a bit and felt more comfortable with Zhang Chengdao.

But "Brother An," finding Zhang Chengdao to be quite mild-mannered, grew bolder and let out a heavy snort: "Nonsense! The White God is the White God! Where did this fake White God come from? You actually believe the words of a Central Plains man! Aren't you stupid?"

In the Mengshe tribe, someone shouted back, "Then you believe in a false god who only speaks the Central Plains language! You're even more stupid!"

"Brother An" was so angry that his face turned red again, but because his skin was too dark, it was not obvious. Moreover, he was afraid of Zhang Chengdao, the "flying" "God of the Central Plains", so he did not dare to make a move. He just stood there at a distance, cursing incessantly in the tribal language.

"Amuange!"

Just as the Mengshe tribe and the "Ango" tribe were arguing back and forth, Huobu Wucuo, who had woken up at some point, opened his eyes and called out softly.

The voice was very soft, but because it was Huobu Wucuo who spoke, everyone in the Mengshe tribe fell silent. The burly man with the thick beard exclaimed excitedly, "Chief!"

Huobu Wucuo struggled to his feet. He seemed to have recovered, at least his wounds had disappeared, and only the remaining bloodstains told the story of what he had just experienced.

“Amu Ange”.

Huobu Wucuo called out again, his tone calm yet solemn. Even the people on "Ango's" side kept quiet out of respect for Huobu Wucuo.

"Ange" is "Ange's" name, while "Amu" is "Ange's" birth order.

Amuange is the eldest son of the chief of the Black tribe. In the Black tribe's local language, "Amu" means "elder brother".

The languages ​​of the Mengshe and Hei tribes are somewhat similar, but the differences are still quite obvious, at least in the naming logic of the tribes. For example, the Mengshe tribe only needs "surname" + "given name" to name a person, like "Huobu" + "Wucuo", while the Hei tribe's name is "surname" + "style name" + "given name", where the "style name" is usually taken from the birth order.

Like "Amu Ange", his full name should be Louyi Amu Ange.

Huobu Wucuo knew the name of Louyi Amu'ange. When Amu'ange was born, Huobu Wucuo had gone to congratulate the Louyi chieftain of the Black Tribe. In a way, Amu'ange should call Huobu Wucuo "uncle".

Yunnan is a vast region, home to countless tribes.

Yunnan is a small region, and most of its tribes share the same ancestor and similar blood.

“Amuange, you know what the White Tribe and the Black Tribe, the various tribes of the Kunmi River were like in the past. ‘Divine sorcery’ is not a divine art bestowed by the White God, but an evil magic that bewitches everyone. The brothers and sisters who died should not be sacrificed for the desires of the living, even if they are corpses.”

Huobu Wucuo said in a deep voice.

"Huobuwu..."

Lou Yi Amu Ange swallowed hard, his eyes filled with ambition, fear, and shame.

"Uncle Huobu," his voice became low, but loud enough for Huobu Wucuo to hear, "we can't go back. I can't go back, and neither can the Black Tribe. Those who practice 'divine sorcery' will only wait to die if they don't continue practicing it."

(End of this chapter)