I am the sacred tree, evergreen for eternity.

On the outskirts of the Xia dynasty's territory, the setting sun casts its last rays upon the totem pole.

The spiritual light flowed slowly through the patterns on the pillar, delivering the warmth of the earth's veins to every corner of this border village.

A dozen or so children, shirtless, were practicing horse stances in the open space.

Sweat streamed down their backs, soaking the linen shorts tied around their waists, but no one dared to move.

Their legs were trembling slightly, the muscles in their calves were taut as hard as rocks, but they still gritted their teeth and kept their weight firmly on the ground.

"Stay calm! Don't let your breathing falter!"

An elderly traveler, carrying an ironwood staff, strolled slowly at the back of the group.

His animal skin coat was washed until it was white, and his left leg below the knee was a prosthetic leg carved from ironwood, which made a slight "thump-thump" sound when he walked.

His back was ramrod straight, and his gaze was still sharp, but the corners of his eyes were etched with the deep furrows of time.

This set of "rooting techniques" is a set of fundamental body-building movements that have been optimized and passed down from generation to generation by totem walkers.

At that time, the Xia family's body-forging method was still very crude, and whether one could enter the Qi-gathering stage depended entirely on talent and luck.

Now, after generations of exploration and improvement, every movement and every detail has been repeatedly refined and polished to maximize the promotion of spiritual energy perception.

"Grandmaster, my legs are numb..."

At the very end of the line, a thin boy's voice was trembling with tears.

The old man walked over, squatted down, and pressed his rough hands against the boy's lower back.

A warm, spring-like spiritual energy flowed from his palms, seeping into the boy's meridians and clearing away the stagnation of qi and blood caused by fatigue.

His spiritual energy was not profound; in fact, it was somewhat mixed.

His cultivation level of perfect physical body forging is already considered top-tier in this border region, but it still cannot compare with those Mingling Realm practitioners who have transformed their spiritual energy into rainbows.

"That's right, it's numb."

The old man's voice was neither hurried nor slow.

"When you can go a whole day without feeling numb from acupuncture, the door to Qi absorption will be open for you."

He stood up, his gaze sweeping over the dozen or so young faces, a hint of relief flashing in his cloudy old eyes.

Today, about 70% of the new generation of the Xia clan are able to complete the Qi Gathering stage of cultivation.

This ratio was unimaginable in Hong's time when cultivation was just beginning.

"By the Tree God."

The old man silently recited a prayer in his heart.

The sun was gradually setting in the west.

The orange-red sunlight slanted down from the western ridge, casting long shadows of the totem poles.

The old man tapped his wooden cane: "Alright, that's enough for today."

The dozen or so children were relieved and collapsed to the ground, some rubbing their legs and others panting.

"Go back and eat well, then continue training tomorrow."

The old man waved his hand, and the children scattered, running towards their respective homes.

Smoke rose from the rooftops of every house, drifting away into the twilight.

The salty aroma of dried meat, the sweet fragrance of millet, the bittersweet taste of wild vegetables...

Mixed together, they weave a net called "home," enveloping the entire village.

The old man took a ceramic pot from his waist, uncorked it, and took a sip of millet wine.

He has guarded the border for most of his life.

When I set up the first totem pole with the pioneering team, this place was still a wasteland shrouded in smog.

The demonic wolves howled in the night, and poisonous insects crawled out of the mud. Every inch of land was fought for with lives at stake.

Today, there are villages, cooking smoke, and the sounds of children playing.

The old man raised the pottery pot and gestured towards the distance—the direction of the sacred mountain where the legendary tree god resided.

"Old brothers, did you see that?"

His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself.

"The blood we shed back then wasn't in vain."

As night deepened, the sky was filled with stars.

The copper bells tinkled in the night breeze, the spiritual patterns on the totem poles stood out even more in the darkness, and a warm glow enveloped the entire village.

The villagers, having worked all day, fell into a deep sleep, their breathing rising and falling, creating a lullaby without melody.

The old man lay in the stone house under the totem pole, with an iron knife hanging at the head of his bed.

This is a habit he has maintained for thirty years: the knife is his weapon.

Suddenly.

A deep-seated unease, originating from the very marrow of his bones and the depths of his blood, suddenly struck him, and the old man awoke instantly.

The moment the door opened, his pupils contracted sharply—

Turbid air.

A thick, nauseating stench surged in from all directions, engulfing the entire village like a tidal wave.

Before the light faded, the old man only had time to let out one last roar:

"Enemy attack!"

……

The night ends and the day dawns.

The midday sun scorched the border villages, the light so bright it was hard to open one's eyes.

A squad of totem walkers arrived under the blazing sun, all riding tamed four-legged lizards, their animal hide armor covered in dust from their long journey.

The leader leaped down from the lizard's back; he was tall and slender with a sharply defined face, and his eyes were bright and sharp, like tempered iron.

His name is Ao.

Xuan's favorite son, who competed with Qi for the position of Totem Walker Squad Leader, lost to Qi by one move in the open competition.

Now, more than a decade later, Qi has become the leader of the Western Frontier Clan by a twist of fate.

Ao Ye was finally polished to perfection and was appointed by the tribe as the border patrol captain, in charge of the cavalry guards of this vast territory.

With a cultivation level at the peak of the Heavenly Light stage, one could stand out among all others in this border region.

Standing proudly at the entrance of the village, he surveyed the scene before him.

There was no smoke from the chimneys, no sound of bells, and no children playing.

The entire village seemed to have been emptied out, leaving only the mournful sound of the wind blowing through the empty houses.

"Scatter and check the situation."

Ao made a gesture, and the twenty totem walkers dispersed in response, their swords and bows ready, and their spiritual energy surging around them.

Ao walked alone toward the totem pole in the center of the village.

The spiritual patterns on the pillar were dim, and the spiritual light was almost extinguished, like a life about to die.

"Captain, we haven't found anything here."

"The houses on the east side were empty, with no signs of a struggle."

"The west side is the same; there's nothing there either."

Reports came from all directions, all saying almost the same thing—no body, no bloodstains, no signs of struggle.

The entire village seemed to have vanished into thin air.

His proud brows furrowed slightly.

"Captain! Something has been discovered in the stone house under the totem pole!"

A young traveler's voice came from the center of the village, carrying a hint of barely suppressed excitement.

He strode over and pushed open the door of the stone house.

A wave of foul air hit me, so thick it almost solidified.

His spiritual light flowed across his body, shutting out the turbid air, and his gaze fell on the corner of the stone house.

The elderly traveler leaned against the corner of the wall, covered in blood. His left leg was bare below the knee, the severed limb hastily tied with strips of cloth, the blood already congealed into a dark red color.

Five children were curled up in his arms.

The oldest was only seven or eight years old, and the youngest was only three or four years old. They were pale and had chapped lips, but they were all still alive.

The old man's eyes were half-open, and his cloudy pupils lit up for a moment when he saw Ao.

"You...you are..."

"Border patrol captain, Ao."

Ao squatted down, and spiritual light surged from his palm, seeping into the old man's body.

"Did you send the signal?"