Chapter 241

Chapter 241: White Flowers and Green Glass

The grand Fire Harvest Festival began.

In the endless pitch-black wilderness, long lines of torches wound across the land, with tribes from all over the grasslands gathering here. Massive bull drums over ten meters tall reverberated thunderously, their booming sounds echoing like they were striking your heart, shaking the surroundings.

Towering flames lit up the earth, transforming the night into day. Beastmen riding horses spun between the flames, shouting the name of Kedaren, then converging at the center of the gathering.

Gigantic stone pillars, roughly eighty meters high, formed a circle, with a crude altar made of stone slabs in the middle. Each pillar had a shaman standing on it. As they chanted ancient incantations, the flames on the pillars gradually rose, forming fiery streams that converged above the altar before crashing down, igniting into a burning fireball.

Afterward, the shamans set up magical arrays to continuously gather and channel magic, ensuring the flame didn’t extinguish. This was the first round of the festival, the Fire of Earth.

Following this, there would be contests in the Fire Festival. The champion and the top three contestants would cut their wrists, dripping a small bowl of blood, which would ignite by extraordinary magic to form the Fire of Man. On the last day of the festival, the shamans would lead a ceremony to gather the magic of the sun’s power, forming the Fire of Heaven. Then, the three fires would merge, symbolizing life and glory.

The honor of dispelling endless cold, bringing life and prosperity, has been an object of worship for beastmen since ancient times. This tradition, inherited from the Rampant Fang Empire, is still followed by the beastmen today.

—

On one evening during the Fire Harvest Festival, after the main rituals concluded, the beastmen set up tents of various sizes in the wilderness. Near the center of the gathering, there were vendors from different tribes selling and exchanging goods.

Lolan and Nia walked through the night market, observing the wares being sold by the vendors. There were bone flutes, lifelike wooden carvings, intricately designed ox-horn curved knives, and copper plaques.

These plaques had various patterns—some were animals, some were suns, and some even had inscriptions. Despite many people believing beastmen to be barbaric, this perception wasn’t entirely accurate.

In ancient times, beastmen had their own glorious era. They used exquisite bronze artifacts, had their own writing systems, and recorded many myths and legends. Many of these stories are still passed down today.

For example, the life of King Fangya Kedaren, the Dragon-Slaying War, and even the legends of the war against the True Red Empire. They were accustomed to engraving these stories on bronze artifacts, and such plaques also served as symbols of status.

“Hello, how much does this sell for?” The green-haired girl bent down and picked up an old bronze plaque. Her eyes, as clear as green glass, and her beautiful face left the leopard-eared beastman momentarily stunned before he slowly regained his composure.

“Hello, this bronze plaque sells for two gold coins,” he carefully quoted a high price.

“This is a bit expensive,” she said, and the goat-horned girl beside her tugged at Lolan’s green ponytail, either to remind the seller or simply because she wanted to touch the smooth hair.

As she spent more time with Lolan recently, Nia wasn’t as reserved as before. Occasionally, she would playfully grab Lolan’s green ponytail.

“That’s fine, here you go.” Lolan didn’t haggle but directly took out two extraordinary gold coins.

“Thank you very much,” the leopard-eared youth said nervously, taking the coins. He hadn’t expected such generosity, as the price he asked was indeed quite high.

“It’s nothing,” Lolan shook her head slightly, her green ponytail swaying, then she examined the bronze plaque closely.

The edges of the plaque were worn, with many scratches, but the remaining patterns could still be discerned. The pattern on the plaque depicted a woman bound to a fire pillar, surrounded by five priests, with a human-shaped phantom wandering in the sky.

Due to the passage of time, many details had become blurry. Only a few words on the back indicated that this was likely a story from the mid-period of the Rampant Fang Empire, as the robes of the priests in the picture had sun motifs. After Kedaren established the Rampant Fang Empire, early shamans and priests often wore totems of fangs and beasts, only transitioning to flames and suns in the later periods.

“Do you really like this?” Nia asked curiously, watching Lolan ponder.

“Not particularly, I’m just interested in the events described,” Lolan replied, then put away the plaque and continued walking.

In the bustling and lively venue of the beastmen, music began to play ahead. Lolan and Nia approached and found a group of humans gathered there. Some were wandering bards, merchants, travelers, and hired guards.

The bards sat atop carts, playing their Cithar, while companions beat small drums and sang passionately. Surrounding them were groups of humans and beastmen admiring the performance. These humans came to Gufia for trade, accompanied by wandering bards who earned money by singing here.

The song started softly, with lively and jumping notes gradually calming the venue. Then, as the rhythm advanced, it turned passionate.

Release comes from within, from the cries of the heart,

You will surely begin to be grateful.

Spread hope throughout this beautiful world,

Breathe in rivers, clouds, and dew,

Poke a small hole with your fingertips, plant a sapling,

Let it sprout and grow strong.

Your heart will turn into a forest,

Never forget the past self,

Every day can be a new beginning for you.

The latter part of the song had tight beats, with several companions harmonizing and the strings of the accompanying instrument being rapidly plucked, giving the song a sense of strength and tension.

Lolan, like others, was captivated by these wandering bards. Compared to solo performers, they were more like a small band, with clear divisions of labor and better performance effects.

After the performance, applause erupted around them. Even the beastmen couldn’t resist the charm of the music. In this brief musical interlude, they temporarily forgot their current hardships, as if returning to that distant past, that prosperous era when ancestors roamed the vast world, chasing endless prey, fighting with passion and vigor.

Unrestrained, running freely in the wilderness, seeking thrilling battles between life and death, living a life full of heroism. This was what the beastmen of yore yearned for most.

Sadly, this purity and excitement have been crushed by the harsh realities of life and forgotten long ago.

Ironically, poems influenced by this style and custom have survived, passed into human kingdoms, and after centuries, were once again brought back to the ears of the beastmen by human wandering bards.

On the benches outside the performance area, Lolan and Nia sat side by side, watching the grassland bards play and sing, telling one story after another.

Compared to the fur-clad herdsmen around them, this white-dressed girl with green hair stood out prominently, attracting the attention of those around her even when she sat quietly.

The girl, engrossed in listening to the songs, didn’t notice this. Several passionate young men wanted to approach her, but they couldn’t bear to break the serene scene.

Until the wandering bards finished their final song, the audience erupted in enthusiastic applause. The beastmen gathered around surged forward, and just as these passionate and desire-driven youths were about to invite this beauty, a wandering bard stepped forward to intervene.

“Everyone, don’t crowd in yet. This miss is our special guest, and she will perform the last song for us.”

As the young men hesitated doubtfully, the wandering bard led the applause.

Lolan looked slightly puzzled at the bard, glanced around, and reluctantly understood, then nodded and stood up.

The applause was thunderous, like an ocean. The white-dressed girl with green hair ascended the stage.

Apologies, I updated late today as I’ve been reworking the outline and uploading the hand-drawn map (please excuse my amateurish work) in the book review section.

Regarding word count, it truly isn’t something that can be fully broken in a single day. Please allow me to grow gradually ≥﹏≤

Due to time constraints for uploading, the list of thank-you messages for donations will be posted tomorrow.

(End of Chapter)