Returning to the Mysterious Era
Chapter 438 - Three Great Shamans

Chapter 438 - Three Great Shamans

Far to the south of the Hongli Federation near a lush rainforest was the mountain range known as the Ten Thousand Mountains. This region was nominally the territory of the Hongli Federation but had always been sparsely populated in reality, with central governance at an all-time low. The nearest proper city was at least a hundred kilometers away. The region only contained a few scattered villages.

The largest settlement stood at the foot of the Ten Thousand Mountains, its densely packed houses virtually forming a small city. This settlement boasted a distinctively primitive style, with all sorts of totem motifs decorating the walls.

A dark-gold temple loomed atop steep cliffs partway up the mountain. A smooth, broad mountain trail meandered downward from it, hewn from one seamless slab of gray rock. It bore not a single crack and was remarkably sturdy. From above, one might occasionally spot a few shamans dressed in local attire traveling up and down the path.

However, within the temple, there lay a smooth stone roughly half a person’s height near the cliff-edge courtyard at the rear entrance. Beside it stood an ancient, gnarled tree that had glowing emerald foliage.

An elderly, gaunt shaman sat with legs crossed on a white stone beneath the ancient tree. He faced the distant sea of clouds, letting the high-altitude wind sweep over his face, delivering faint wisps of chill and fog. He was no more than half a meter from the cliff’s edge; it was a perilous spot but brimming with a certain poetic charm. In the distance, the dusky-yellow sun gradually dipped below the horizon along the far edge of the cloud sea.

Huu... Huu...

The old shaman’s chest rose and fell ever so slightly, and faint light flickered beneath his vividly colored garment. The totems across his exposed neck and arms seemed alive as they slithered about like small snakes. As his power stirred, those shifting totems moved even more swiftly.

Strange and grotesque visages began to emerge on the elder’s skin. The serpents, two-headed dogs, stone-faced gargoyles, and eerie grins bathed the air in a strange menacing aura.

Tap, tap, tap, tap...

Footsteps rang out in the courtyard as someone slowly approached. It was another shaman dressed similarly, though clearly much younger. He wore only yellow and blue instead of the older shaman’s red as well. He exited the courtyard, his steps growing lighter.

“Teacher...” The shaman bowed his head, speaking in a hushed tone.

“Recently, we found traces of Hellsing from the Anta Mountains in Rain County. It’s possible they intend to extend their influence here. Would you like me to lead some of our shamans to give them a warning...?”

Silence fell around them for a moment. Then, the elder shaman, eyes still closed, spoke. “Have your junior handle that. I have another assignment for you.

“The Ripple Shamans over in Bone Ring Woods are our partners. They reported that someone has been snooping around the coastal region, asking questions about the Eternal Archipelago. It is likely that someone is aiming for them...” The elder paused, then continued, “Take ten Savage Beast Shamans to aid them, and while you’re there, bring back those bone rings the Ripple Shamans promised us before. Remember, fifty in total, and not a single one less...”

The middle-aged shaman nodded promptly, signaling his understanding.

“Very well. Leave me now, and do not disturb me further.” The elder shaman waved his hand, intending to dismiss him.

Suddenly, from the other side of the mountain, a colossal roar shook the heavens from deep within the Ten Thousand Mountains. It tore through the layered clouds, exposing the blue sky.

Instantly, the winds surged wildly, and birds and beasts scattered in terror, driven away by that ominous and dreadful aura. Glimpses showed certain giant aberrations sprinting through the mountains, triggering a stampede!

“The Totem King!” The elder’s eyes snapped open, shining with a burning gleam. He leaped up at once and bounded down the cliff, body rotating slightly, arms spread wide. A dark totem covered his arms, transforming them into massive membranes like a bat’s wings.

“The King is calling me...” He was overwhelmed by excitement, flapping his wings to hasten his flight toward the heart of the Ten Thousand Mountains. At the same moment, another elder soared from the temple, and in the village below, a middle-aged man shot skyward like a giant eagle, heading straight for the mountains.

An hour or more passed. Night fell entirely, and the moon hung high, bathing the long, towering mountains in its cold glow. The middle-aged shaman waited by the cliff’s ancient tree. Eventually, a black silhouette in the distance grew steadily nearer.

Whoosh!

The figure traced an arc in midair and landed stably on the cliff. Waves of air rippled outward with the flap of its wings.

“Teacher...” The middle-aged shaman hurried forward, only to see a cruel, youthful visage rather than the wrinkled, elderly face he expected. Alarmed, he shifted instantly into a combat stance and shouted, “Who are you!!?”

“Hahaha...” The other man laughed heartily, his voice strangely familiar. “Ange, do you not even recognize your own teacher?”

“Teacher?” The middle-aged shaman finally realized the resemblance. This man’s face was indeed much like his mentor’s from his youth.

“Teacher, how could you suddenly be so... so young?”

“Hahaha...” The elder shaman laughed yet again. “It’s the Totem King’s blessing! I never imagined that after thirty-odd years as the Gale Shaman, I’d behold the Totem King and even receive a grand task...”

The “Gale Shaman” title he claimed referred to a special office in the totem temple, which housed a total of ten Great Shamans. Three of those ten were especially exalted and ruled over all affairs: the Gale Shaman, the Lava Shaman, and the Thousand-Beast Shaman.

Ange’s teacher was the Gale Shaman.

“Teacher, you actually saw the Totem King!!!” Ange was astounded beyond words. After all, he had grown up worshipping the Totem King in the totem temple.

The Totem King was akin to a god to every Totem Shaman; He was their lifelong spiritual faith as well as the source of their power. The Totem King was the fountainhead of all totems, from which that power sprang and to which it returned. Legend held that every totem, and every totemic creature ever witnessed by shamans, was birthed by the Totem King.

“Not exactly,” the Gale Shaman corrected him with a shake of his head. “It was likely just an avatar of the Totem King, not its true form. I, Lava Shaman and Thousand-Beast Shaman witnessed a mountain—a towering peak with a talking face carved into it. But that aura was unmistakably the Totem King. A slight encounter, and I was forced to my knees. All the totems within me expressed submission and dread, so there’s no doubt whatsoever...”

“A whole mountain, but merely an avatar! By heavens...” Ange’s face glowed with awe, for in his heart, the Totem King was a god. Nothing could match a worshiper facing divinity. He panted heavily a few times.

“Let’s set that aside. I have important business ahead...” Relishing his renewed youthful vigor, the Gale Shaman instructed his chief disciple, “Summon every direct-line shaman of our branch back to the temple immediately. Tomorrow or the day after, we’ll be heading for Florence...”

“Why Florence? That’s the capital of the Hongli Federation, is it not?” Ange showed some confusion.

The Gale Shaman shook his head but did not fault his disciple for curiosity. He clenched his fists, feeling his energy surge in his body.

“This time, I will join forces with Thousand-Beast... We’ll go to Florence to kill someone!”

***

Elsewhere, in Florence, capital of the Hongli Federation, at the Hunters' Association headquarters.

A man stood shirtless in the medical room, revealing all manner of wounds across his torso. Notably, there was a deep, dark handprint on his chest that seemed quite severe. Fortunately, a recent checkup had revealed it to be no more than superficial damage, leaving his internal organs unharmed.

The medical staff bustled about in a sweat, triple-checking the man’s body with help from two other doctors before determining he was all right. It wasn’t so much their professional thoroughness as the intense pressure radiating from those nearby.

Three formidable experts had gathered in that small chamber, each wearing a Shadow Hunter badge at the chest. They were Shadow Hunters Number One, Two and Five. Apart from the grievously injured Number Four and the currently deployed Number Three, every Shadow Hunter in the Hunters' Association was present. The injured man undergoing examination was none other than the Hunters' Association’s president himself.

It was the Radiant Hunter, Thunder Prison Deleshart.

Deleshart allowed the doctors to apply some specialized medicinal treatments, then turned to the three other Shadow Hunters. “Whatever you want to ask, just ask.”

The doctors behind him hurried to finish. It only took them a dozen seconds to smear ointment over the remaining wounds and depart with their assistants.

Once the door was closed, Shadow Hunter Number Five spoke.

“Deleshart, did you... go to spar with the Chief Mechanist again?”

“You think this wound resembles the Chief Mechanist’s handiwork?” Deleshart inhaled deeply, then answered directly, “I ran into a top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit level monster in District Six. We ended up injuring each other...”

“A top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit!”

The three Shadow Hunters exchanged startled glances, hints of dread in their eyes. Long ago, the Battle of Dawn Valley had taken place when Butcher Krog had still been Shadow Hunter Number One. It was the toughest battle the Dark Hunter Organization had fought in fifty years, precisely because it involved two top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit level aberrations. Although the Dark Hunter Organization had ultimately prevailed, the price had been devastating. More than half their Shadow Hunters had lost their lives, along with half their core fighters. They had to focus on replenishing their ranks over the following year, allowing other aberrations to run wild among the populace.

This gap between the retiring veterans and the newly promoted was substantial; the recruits were distinctly weaker than those who had fought before Dawn Valley, leaving them ill-equipped to maintain order.

It had taken close to twenty years of rebuilding for the organization to truly recover. Now, a top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit level dark creature had emerged yet again in Florence, as if a time bomb had been planted right at their doorstep.

“There’s more,” Deleshart continued. “That top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit level creature was already injured before I fought it, implying that another fighter of comparable power exists. We don’t know yet if it’s a human master or another top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit level dark creature. The only reason I encountered this creature was because we heard that two figures were battling their way upstream the inner city river in District Six...”

“So one thing is certain,” Deleshart reasoned. “There’s undoubtedly another expert on par with a top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit level.”

In truth, there was one detail he had yet to mention, a point to be reported privately to the Chief Mechanist: the wounds on that aberration had resembled those inflicted by Covert Martial Arts. However, that was only conjecture and to be considered with caution.

“Two top-tier Cataclysmic Spirit levels... are we heading for a repeat of Dawn Valley?” The three hunters exchanged anxious, stunned glances.

“This is not the time for that. Soul Scythe is gravely injured, and we still haven’t selected a new Shadow Hunter, effectively leaving us short of a combatant. While there are a few who can fight at the Shadow Hunter level in other Dark Hunter Organization departments, it’s always been our Shadow Hunters who specialize in battle and killing. After all, they’ve been chosen out of thousands of hunters...” Someone voiced concern.

Deleshart likewise felt a pang of unease. He intended to discuss condensing the Shadow Hunter seat competition with the Chief Mechanist. Since they were beyond the first challenge already, they could skip the two lengthy steps in between and jump straight to the final round. In other words, just fight, and whoever won would become the new Shadow Hunter.

Normally, that was not how it was done. Though combat prowess was crucial, it was not the sole factor; a Shadow Hunter also had to command subordinates, manage department operations, and display top-tier hunting instincts...

Teamwork mattered as well, and the backing of influential powers was an important consideration. But now, they could not afford all that. Times were too urgent.

Radiant Hunter Deleshart quickly dressed and left the infirmary, striding alone under the moonlight toward the Mechanism Building.

***

Cassius had not returned to the Dark Hunter Headquarters. Instead, he found a secluded warehouse to imprison Zhu Hun and the others, and then headed to Iron Face Jem’s home at 25 Falk Street. All signs of battle had been cleaned away, aside from a few holes in the walls, which would need patching in the next day or two. After a short conversation with the veteran hunters, Cassius went alone to the wooden attic on the fourth floor.

Two or three hours earlier, he had drawn on the power of the sixth-stage perfected Death’s Fang Force to battle the Evil Mother, which had yielded considerable insights. Even now, his mind churned with inspiration. Unwilling to let this chance pass, he chose to set everything else aside for the moment and calm himself.

He focused on the Southern Dipper fist techniques and on opening more acupoints of the Red Falcon Fist. The lingering sixth-stage Death’s Fang Force in his body was his top priority!