There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

Gotz's expression was a bit serious. "What's even stranger is that the footprints are becoming more and more diverse, as if the number of people roaming the mountain is constantly increasing. Even today, I found animal hoofprints, and as a result, I ran into you on my way down the mountain."

...Is the back mountain really this lively now? Could my flag have really attracted the Liangshan army?

"Then what are you waiting for? Keep chasing!"

I immediately realized, "Where did those footprints come from?"

"The most were probably found halfway up the mountain."

"Where exactly?"

"It was first discovered near the mine, but because the other party had deliberately concealed the traces, there were not many places that could be identified."

"Where do the footprints lead?"

"Hmm... roughly towards the southwest of the town?"

Oh, the southwest of town, let me think... where is that...

Wait!

The southwest side of the town...

Isn't this my ranch?

I quickly put down my teacup and left Gotz's hut, intending to return to the ranch immediately to check if anything was amiss, but Gotz, who was following me, grabbed my arm.

"Footprints have appeared! And they're very fresh!"

At the fork in the road leading from Mads Mountain to the pasture, even without his explanation, I could see a dense network of footprints stretching haphazardly yet orderly from the mountain path toward the pasture.

Among them were not only human footprints trampling through broken grass, but also animal hoofprints deeply etched into the soft, damp soil, overlapping and stretching into the distance. Apart from a faint scent lingering in the air, I could even see some faint black dots flickering at the edge of my vision...

Just as we were lying behind the tree, gazing into the distance, a rustling sound came from behind me!

When I turned around, I saw a masked man suddenly jump down from the tree, holding a dagger that was bent like a snake and gleamed with an unsettling green light!

Gotz was very fast and tried to reach out to block the other's impact, but the other was small and used the tree trunk as leverage to jump, instantly breaking through the blockade and crashing into my arms.

Just as Gotz was about to make a move, the other party quickly removed the strange mask made of cow bone, revealing a face that was once youthful but now somewhat unfamiliar.

"Marcus!"

I finally recognized the other person.

"A jay...a jay!!!"

At this moment, the black dots had approached the edge of the ranch. I noticed a golden light suddenly flash, as if the light screen had been activated by a swaying motion and shot into the sky. The colonist system's notification also suddenly sounded.

[System Notification: A caravan from the Brownpool tribe is approaching. They are wholesale traders. They will stay in the colony for a few days before departing. You can trade with them for goods, or attack them, but this will anger their faction.]

[System Notification: Current affinity with the Brownpool Tribe: +100 (Allies)]

Chapter 665 Reunion and Business Plan

"How did you end up here!"

I didn't have the bad habit of slapping myself to confirm whether I was dreaming.

Since I narrowly escaped from the clutches of the "Billionaire," I have enjoyed a sleep I've never had before, and the bizarre dreams that used to disturb my mind seem to be getting further and further away.

Moreover, the colonizer system never lies; if it says the Brown Pond tribe is coming, then it certainly doesn't mean it's Tsuruno Takeshi...

Why bring up those underworld people? It's bad luck.

The jay seemed even more surprised, her face, no longer covered in paint, sparkling with excitement.

"Long time no see, Marcus! I'm so glad I came along this time!"

I was a little curious: "Weren't you the one who came to find me? Why do you look even more surprised than I am! Also, what's with all those people and animals up ahead?"

The jay smiled with a hint of pride: "They're our tribe's expedition team!"

I was even more confused: "What's with your outfit? Why are you wearing that weird mask?"

The jay wore a dark green robe, its texture still somewhat primitive and simple, a stark contrast to its previous patchwork animal skin garment. Besides the unique snake-shaped dagger at its waist, the most striking feature was the large, ox-like mask with sheep-like horns atop its head.

The jay straightened its back, looking even more pleased: "Because I am a shaman! I have completed all the shamanic courses and have been granted official status!"

I couldn't resist reaching out and touching the strange animal bone mask, even bending its sharp horns. I discovered that its horns had only been slightly modified, but it was indeed a hybrid style of the original.

The jay tenderly slapped my hand away, stroking the mask with a loving touch: "This is a special skull that only appears among thousands of snow oxen! It's a symbol that only our snow ox shamans can possess!"

Wait a minute, I think I heard a strange address...

The Snow Cow Shaman, isn't he just that old man from the Cedar Clan who was so unhygienic that he emitted a terrible stench with the slightest movement? If the Jay were to inherit her mantle, wouldn't he also become quite the culprit?

"No way! You can't be a snow cow shaman, or you'll stink so badly you'll never get married!"

The jay rolled its eyes at me: "Don't talk nonsense about marriage!"

Then she seemed to realize which one I was referring to, and added, "Snow Cow Shaman is a title of honor bestowed by the Corilo tribe upon the most learned shaman; not everyone is so unclean!"

I leaned closer and sniffed her with some skepticism. Although her clothes looked old, she didn't have any strange smell, which suggested that she had a habit of taking good care of her personal hygiene.

Great! As long as it's a regular snow cow shaman!

Never inherit the mantle of that person from the Cedar Clan and become a skunk shaman.

Embarrassed, I sighed, "Time flies! I can't believe you've become a shaman, while my ranch looks exactly the same as when we first met..."

At this moment, Gotz, who had been dumbfounded, finally came to his senses and said to me with a strange expression, "Marcus, while you're lamenting the passage of time, shouldn't you let the little girl get off you first?"

Only after he said that did I realize that the jay was still in the position of swooping down from the tree, clinging to me like a koala, and the two of us chatted like that for a long time without caring about anyone else.

The jay was taken aback by my words, then jumped off me, calmly brushed off the wrinkles in my clothes, tucked the snake-shaped dagger back into its waistband, and said casually as it walked out, "Let's hurry and catch up with the expedition!"

"Hey, you're going the wrong way!" I quickly reminded him.

Then I watched as she staggered a couple of steps, tripped over herself, and fell into the bushes.

…………

A caravan of about a dozen people appeared on my ranch, skillfully set up tents and a campfire, and began to have lunch.

About nine of them were dressed like ordinary fringe world merchants, wearing light leather shirts and blue cloth trousers, with a round hat for sun protection, and their expressions were simple and honest.

Just like the first merchant I met, Ganan, the first thing they did after setting up camp was to soothe the livestock that accompanied them and take stock of the items they carried.

The other seven or eight people had stern expressions, their waists bulging as if concealing firearms. They were chatting casually, but their eyes were constantly scanning their surroundings. They gathered in groups of three or four to ensure there were no blind spots in their sight.

If these people were ordinary merchants, their demeanor would be too deliberate; if they were caravan guards, their eyes would be too sharp… They looked more like a team of bodyguards traveling incognito!

I lowered my voice and asked Jay, "Who are those people?"

The jay tiptoed and peered out, instantly understanding what I meant. Then, pouting, it complained, "I already said I didn't need any guards, but the tribe still insists they come with us... It's so annoying..."

I smiled and patted her head: "Although you're not grown up yet, you're a big shot now, so you can't be as reckless as you were back then."

The jay angrily slapped my hand away: "Who said I haven't grown up! I'm grown up now..."

I smiled and said, "Then who fell into the bushes and disappeared completely?"

"Hmph... I'm just good at concealment..."

The jay switched to its platypus mode, pouting as it took a few quick steps, leaving me behind, and returned to the expedition team first.

The camping group instantly became lively, bowing to the "Snow Cow Shaman" as if she were their chieftain.

But when someone emerged from the tent, Gotz reached out and placed a hand on my shoulder, saying, "Why are you so nervous? Aren't those your friends?"

I took two deep breaths to remind myself that I didn't need to be so nervous when I saw the person in front of me. But having been burned a few times in front of him, the consequence was that I couldn't help but want to punch him the moment I saw him...

Bertholdt!

The old man was still as robust as ever, but his head was now completely white. He walked out of the tent with a slightly slow gait, nodded to the jay, and then spoke with his back to me.

"Marcus."

The three words weren't loud, but they clearly traveled across the distance between us, and rekindled those old grudges.

Gotz was a little confused about the situation at this point, because the subtle killing intent between me and Bertholdt was undeniable. However, his confidence in his own strength allowed him to follow behind me without hesitation, only his steps became more steady.

"Watch out for those guys over there. They could very well be the ones I failed to capture on the mountain," Gotz warned calmly.

I stopped at the edge of the Seven Steps and replied with a smile, "It's been a long time, Chief Berthold. Or should I call you... Senior Brother?"

Compared to the ruthless figure who once schemed against me and various forces in the peripheral world, Bertholdt, though aged, now has a more composed gaze, like porcelain polished by time, devoid of any fire, yet exuding an enduring strength.

Hearing the reply, he slowly turned around, his eyes gleaming like cold stars, his large, fan-like hands holding…

A sweater that's only half-knitted.

...Meow meow meow, what does that mean?

Does Master have another Sunflower Manual that he hasn't taught me?

Seeing this, the businessmen and bodyguards nearby also turned their heads and pretended to cough. Two of them coughed until their faces turned red and they were about to die—but even they couldn't hide their laughter.

Bertholdt blushed slightly, hid the half-finished sweater behind his back, stood with his hands behind his back, barely maintaining the tense atmosphere between us, and continued, "Master said you wouldn't be coming back, it seems he was wrong."

"Since you're here because of your master, please make yourself at home," I said irritably.

Bertholdt, as expected of an old man, remained completely unaffected by the awkward atmosphere: "Since you hate me so much, why didn't you kill me back then?"

I slowly began to speak: "I'm not the kind of person who kills people indiscriminately..."

Bertholdt wore a cold smile, clearly disdainful.

...Want to fight?

I continued, "...Keeping you around won't harm me as I'm leaving soon, but it will be of great use to the weakened Brownpool tribe. After all, only you can persuade the tribal alliance to accept the Brownpool tribe again and genuinely care about the tribe with a sense of guilt."

On one side was the elder grandmother who had been wrongly killed, and on the other side was the "wise king" chieftain who had once been entrusted with great hopes. Bertholdt certainly had many reasons to be disloyal, but these two reasons were enough to suppress his outdated ambitions.

What I didn't finish saying was that before I left, I not only instructed the person in charge of the Deep Space Fleet, but also told the Skunk Shaman and the master of the Planetary Consciousness that if this old guy dared to harbor any ill intentions and continue to cause trouble, he should be executed on the spot.

The fact that he's still alive proves that he truly did his best.

Bertholdt gave me a complicated look and sighed, "I thought I was good at scheming, but I didn't expect that I would still be outmaneuvered by your open schemes. For me, who is about to die, this is more painful than being killed outright."

Hearing this from the side, Jay quickly advised, "Grandpa Bertholdt, please don't say that anymore! If Elder Grandma were still alive and heard this, she would be heartbroken!"

Upon hearing this, Bertholdt, who had been putting on a show, felt as if he had been stabbed in the heart. He choked on his breath, then looked helplessly at the jay, waved his hand, and said nothing more.

His childhood sweetheart, the elder of the Brownpool tribe, who was accidentally killed by Bertholdt, is a source of guilt he can't let go of to this day. Together with the regret of betraying his master, the "Wise King" chief, this forms the driving force behind his efforts to make amends and atone for his sins.