blueteamnovel Chapter 815 - 343: Expanding the Follower Plan (2)
Chapter 815 - 343: Expanding the Follower Plan (2)
...
The edge of the Wilderness, a barren hill untouched by humans.
Several decaying villages are scattered here, which were once prosperous in the distant past, but have long since declined.
Now, only a few thousand people struggle to survive here.
With the fusion of the Dimension Plane, attacks from the Demon Tide and beasts, the villages are almost abandoned.
The remaining residents can only rely on excavating underground roots and hunting scarce beasts to subsist.
But in the extreme cold weather, these harvests can’t sustain the existence of thousands.
Every day, elderly and children perish in the night...
Grayrock Village.
In the center of the village square, night falls heavily, and the weakly flickering bonfire casts a glow on the sallow faces, devoid of color.
Their limp state resembles drought-stricken greens.
The remaining two hundred villagers have all gathered here, all young and strong adults.
At this moment, they are making the final decision... whether to leave the village.
The supporters and opponents are evenly matched.
By the bonfire, a young hunter named Aiven listens to the fierce arguments of his companions, sitting silently on a stone, clutching a polished wooden spear.
Aiven is the highest Level hunter in the village, though only in his early twenties, he has reached Level 9!
The fiercest beasts in recent times were hunted by him, and he is the main source of food for the villagers.
He is highly renowned in the village, almost on par with the village chief.
Yet now, this hunter, exudes an aura of decay.
His eyes hollow and desperate.
In the past few days, he has gone hunting with the tribe’s warriors multiple times but has returned empty-handed.
The wild beasts of the Wilderness have either been slaughtered cleanly or disappeared without a trace... and their food reserves were long exhausted.
Tonight, the tribe’s last remaining child once more goes to sleep with an empty stomach, her cries before bed piercing through the night wind.
"Quiet down, let’s hear what Aiven has to say!"
At this moment, an elderly voice breaks the argument, as the village chief, leaning on a cane, slowly approaches.
A face full of wrinkles, revealing age greatly, and his white hair resonates with the frost and snow outside.
A glimmer of hope in his cloudy eyes.
Over two hundred people simultaneously turned their heads to look at the young hunter who kept his head down.
"Aiven, tell us, do you support moving away or continuing to stay?"
"Yes, we listen to you... you are the strongest hunter among us!"
"Aiven, let’s go, there’s no food here anymore, staying is waiting for death!"
"But does leaving guarantee survival? We might as well stay in the village, keep digging for roots, at least we can hold on for half a month, maybe a new chance will arise after half a month..."
Upon hearing the argument intensify again, Aiven slowly raises his head, calmly looking at the crowd.
The argument gradually quiets down again.
Everyone fell silent, waiting for him to speak.
Once the field was quiet, Aiven spoke slowly.
"There are no hunting grounds left in the Wilderness... We can’t hold on any longer."
"Remaining in the village... is simply waiting for death."
The village chief paused for a moment, sighed, and looking up at the night sky: "Perhaps, only prayer remains... maybe the Divine Spirit will show mercy to us."
"Divine Spirit?" Aiven sneered, with anger flashing in his eyes.
"Those Divine Spirits only care about their temples and their followers! Villages like ours have long been forgotten!"
The village chief did not retort, only murmuring quietly: "Hopefully... hopefully, there’s still hope."
Aiven stiffened his neck, not responding.
"Aiven, do you support migration, moving away?"
"Leaving? Hahaha, leaving the village in the icy world... do any of you know what would happen?"
Aiven stood up abruptly, shouting.
"We have no hope left!"
"None!"
"The edible roots will be exhausted in five days at most!"
"Going far away is a pipe dream! In this weather, traveling 50 kilometers would be a miracle, in three days at most, we will all die in the wild!"
Saying this, ignoring the crowd stunned by his outburst, he turned and left decisively.
Then, the scene plunged into dead silence.
The last bit of morale, completely dissipated... one by one, they silently got up and left.
The burning bonfire was gradually extinguishing.
Aiven sat alone on a rock at the entrance of the village, in the cold wind, gazing into the distant, dark Wilderness.
Hunger caused his stomach to cramp, and his mind echoed with his sister’s cries before bed tonight.
She was... the last child in the village.
Clenching the wooden spear tightly, his knuckles turned white, a sense of helplessness surged within him.
"If there really are Divine Spirits..."
Aiven’s voice shook, he suddenly roared.
"Why don’t you save us? Why do you let us suffer like this?!"
He lifted his head, looking at the starry sky, anger flashed in his eyes.
Perhaps at the peak of despair, or perhaps the words of the village chief struck a chord deep within him, he closed his eyes, folded his hands, and prayed softly.
"No matter which Divine Spirit you are... if you can hear me... please save my village... save my sister... we just want to live..."
His voice weak and trembling, carrying a trace of meager hope, dissipated in the night wind.
At the same time, in Weilu City, in the basement of the Swamp Church.
A fanatic from the Sacerdotal Faith Department, a Mud Swamp Person named Sarah, closed her eyes, responding to believers.
Capturing nearby calls related to "Swamp" and "Divine Spirit".
Suddenly, a weak prayer signal entered her mind, carrying intense desperation and hope.
The prayer was so Special that she instantly noticed it...