Ultragenic Warlord

Chapter 632: Worse than a Mongrel

Zhang Lie sighed and put down the tattered map, shaking his head. "Elder, to be honest, none of these look any good. They're all trash, but well, I like making friends. I'll accept all this trash as medical fees."

"Lad, please, don't play these tricks with me. If they really were trash, why would you take them away?" The elder laughed. "I'm getting old, and my brain's not so agile anymore. Take what you want—take them all if you will, but I hope that you'll show this rundown tribe a little mercy and leave us something."

Zhang Lie picked up the root. "I'll take this—I need a supplementary ingredient for one of my brews."

Then, he picked up the tattered map. "This as well—you're surely not going to find anything with just this one piece, and I like collecting all sorts of oddities. With these two items, I'll ignore the fact that you didn't tell me about a potential ambush from the beast tribe."

The elder asked, "If you don't mind my asking, I'm a little curious as to just what this root is. We've had it in the village for quite some time. As the alcohol tribe, we're well-versed in all sorts of herb and plant lore, but none of us have ever managed to identify just what it is."

Because the alcohol tribe had to experiment with different plants for brewing alcohol, they were much more knowledgeable about herblore than the other tribes around, but even they had no records of this pitch-black root.

Millennia of research and study had left behind what was essentially an encyclopedia of herbs and plants within the tribe, so it was even more extraordinary that the root hadn't been cataloged at all.

If not for the premier brewmaster of the era claiming that this root had potent medical properties, it wouldn't have been preserved in the elder's chest. However, that was all the brewmaster was able to uncover about the root.

"This is a darksky anchoring root. When a particularly rare species of tree dies, the roots that are left behind age into this black mass over millennia. This root can stabilize gene fragments in someone's body, but it's useless for most people—it won't be able to make you stronger, or grant you access to potent power, or make you handsome, or anything of the sort."

Of course, if it didn't have any utility, Zhang Lie wouldn't covet it. He believed that this root's stabilizing properties would be instrumental to Potion #5, which would cause even larger shifts in Zhang Lie's genes than the previous four potions had done.

"And what of the map?" The elder asked about the other item.

"It's just a bonus."

The elder smiled. "I might be old and close to blind, but that doesn't mean I'm clueless. The map was the last item you picked up, and clearly the most important in your mind. When I brought out all the items, your gaze landed on the map immediately."

As expected of a wily old fox, to be able to catch such subtle details. Zhang Lie emphasized, "The map is useless. Do you understand me?"

"As you will. There was never such a map in this village; all you claimed for yourself was a tree root."

Talking with the elder was a painless affair—he understood what Zhang Lie meant almost immediately. Some curiosity was acceptable, but too much could lead Zhang Lie to do something drastic.

"We'll let bygones be bygones, then." Zhang Lie strode to the door of the hut and retrieved the vats of alcohol from his potbellied-toad pouch. A large number of mud-sealed vats appeared out of thin air, emanating such a potent and aromatic scent of alcohol that everyone around could smell it. The members of the clan all began pouring out of their houses and heading toward the elder's.

"I've brought back what you requested," Zhang Lie declared.

As the elder saw his clan's delighted faces, he nodded in satisfaction. He slowly walked to the doorway and proclaimed, "Kin and kith, hear me! Our honored guest has retrieved our long-lost alcohol from our old village—along with the ingredients for our ancestral recipe! The worst of our days are over—let us rejoice for our future, for our esteemed guest!"

Cheers echoed through the entire village.

On the other hand, compared to the festive atmosphere in the alcohol tribe's village, that in the beast tribe's village was dark and cold.

"Kaimie and Kaichen, those two bastards, still haven't returned," the chieftain of the beast tribe informed everyone gathered within the tent—his other sons and close aides.

His eldest son, who sat to his left, immediately replied, "I headed to the ruins of the alcohol village and found new footprints there. Following the footprints, I saw an underground cellar that we hadn't noticed before."

The chieftain's face grew darker. "In that case, you believe that Kaimie and Kaichen were killed by men from the alcohol tribe?"

"That's my guess."

The chieftain hissed. "I told them to report to me instantly if they were to find anything! Those damned fools!"

The chieftain's eldest daughter sat to his right. With a mocking tone, she suggested, "Perhaps Kaimie and Kaichen simply took all that alcohol for themselves and ran away."

To her right sat the chieftain's third-eldest son. "Kaimie's not so daring, but as for Kaichen..."

The chieftain slammed a palm on the table, smashing it to splinters. "If Kaichen really did that, I'll skin him alive!"

His eldest daughter spread her arms. "Now that he's gone missing, what can you do?"

"We'll see." The chieftain narrowed his eyes and clapped his hands, causing a blood-colored shadow to dart to his side—a gigantic wolf with fur the color of blood. Scales grew out of its body and limbs, and its head looks simultaneously like that of a snake and a wolf. Sharp incisors emerged from its mouth, and it would stick out its long slitted tongue from time to time.

Everyone within the tent stood up, wracked by fear. That was a blood-colored snakewolf, a commander-class lifeform!

The chieftain's eldest son snapped out of his daze and warned, "Father, be careful!"

The chieftain of the beast tribe gently patted the snakewolf's nose. "Don't worry. I've tamed it already."

Within the tent, the chieftain's children and aides slowly began to kneel. As one, they chorused, "Congratulations, chieftain! Our peerless leader will establish dominion over a thousand beasts and lead our tribe to glory!"

Despite their words, their expressions were all subtly different—some were shocked, others surprised, more scared, and some regretful.

The chieftain's eldest son asked, "Father, when did you tame a commander-class lifeform?"

The chieftain of the beast tribe smiled cockily. "It's all thanks to the alcohol tribe. The snakewolf was very fond of alcohol, so I gave it a great deal of the hundred-year-old brew and took my chance when it was drunk."