After Jumanji displayed his spiritual rarities, the hall around them fell into silence for several moments, broken only by the gleam of greed and appreciation in the old elder's eyes.
The elder cleared his throat and said in a tone he tried to keep neutral, "You have truly impressed me… tell me, how many 'spiritual cores' do you require in exchange for this collection?"
A faint smile touched Jumanji's lips, though it never reached his eyes.
"With all due respect, sir," he replied with practiced dignity, "you are an expert—you understand the spiritual value of these plants far better than I do. There is no need for a wandering physician like myself to state what is already obvious to someone of your standing."
The old man placed a hand beneath his chin and studied Jumanji with piercing eyes.
Then he nodded slowly, as if he had seen through the words and into the mind behind them.
He had already realized that this man was no simple trader chasing bits of copper and silver.
He was an apothecary who knew the true weight of his goods.
The elder asked, "Are spiritual cores all you seek? Or is there something else on your mind—something more specific you wish to ask for in exchange for these plants?"
He knew well that wandering apothecaries of this caliber often sought rare trades—things useful to their private research or capable of strengthening their spiritual power.
Jumanji answered with measured calm.
"You've struck the heart of it, Elder.
In truth, I was searching for something very specific… though I cannot be certain whether your distinguished tribe possesses it in its stores.
If it does, then I am willing to exchange the 'Purple Flower' and the 'Blessed Mushroom' for it immediately.
And I'm sure someone of your expertise needs no explanation of their unique properties."
The elder gave a low hum, then straightened in his seat and interlocked his fingers.
"So…" he said, his curiosity now impossible to hide, "what is this thing that made a physician like you travel such a distance?
I imagine you have a very particular object in mind, do you not?"
Jumanji shook his head slightly.
"No, you misunderstand this matter.
I cross great distances whether it is for this plant or another.
As I said before, these feet of mine did not step into this world for anything beyond earning my daily bread."
A restrained smile formed on the elder's face.
"Very well," he said with cautious composure. "Then tell me what it is you want, and I shall see whether we are able to trade it to you. Our tribe does not begrudge those who understand its worth."
Jumanji knew with certainty that the central spiritual farm of the Carp Tribe—a third-rank tribe—possessed the thing he sought.
From the flood of Mahinor's memories, he knew that this rare item could not be found anywhere on the Bamboo Continent, no matter how long one searched for it.
Simply because it did not belong here.
It came from a distant environment, in another continent altogether—
one known as the "Waters of Dreams."
In this world, the six continents were arranged in a singular geographical tapestry.
They were not divided by oceans, but by colossal rivers that carved through the land like arteries of life.
The Bamboo Continent, upon whose soil Jumanji now stood, lay in the far east.
Around it, the other continents formed a majestic arrangement.
To the north rested the Emerald Continent, eternally green.
To the south stretched the Black Forest Continent, veiled in darkness and secrets.
To the southwest lay the Waters of Dreams.
To the west stood the Continent of Pure White, where snow never melted.
And in the northeast rose the Lofty Mountains Continent, whose peaks brushed against the clouds.
All six continents curved in a grand ring around the center of the world—
that vast, mythical land known as the "Great Central Continent," the beating heart of the world itself.
Jumanji exhaled softly, then looked directly into the elder's eyes.
"What I seek, Elder…" he said in a low voice, "is the 'Dawn Dew Coral Leech'…
Rank Nine."
The elder was visibly startled by the request, his expression freezing for a brief moment.
The Carp Tribe did, in fact, possess a Dawn Dew Coral Leech.
And though it was Rank Nine—and considered one of the weakest leeches within their spiritual farm—
the fact that this physician knew of its existence made the elder look at him with a far deeper measure of caution and suspicion.
"You seem to know quite a great deal about hidden matters, fellow spiritual practitioner," the elder said at last.
The title was no accident.
He had already assumed the man before him was an expert of the Second Rank.
The mask of the "Thousand-Faced Leech" had not merely altered Jumanji's outward appearance—it had also flawlessly forged a false spiritual aura, one that suggested he possessed a second-rank farm.
And because of how perfect that disguise was, no one beneath the Fifth Rank could hope to expose it.
Jumanji smiled with diplomatic warmth and replied,
"No, Elder, I am not all-knowing.
But since your esteemed tribe follows the Path of Water, I made an educated guess that you would possess such a rare leech.
And if my theory happens to be wrong, then no matter.
We can always search for another alternative that satisfies us both."
The elder fell silent for a moment, weighing profit against loss.
Then he spoke slowly.
"That leech does not compare in value to either the Purple Flower or the Blessed Mushroom.
It seems you intend to use it for a very particular purpose in your research.
And since each of us has his own secrets to keep, I will not make this difficult for you.
We agree.
Let the trade be done."
A faint smile flickered across Jumanji's face.
He did not say a word.
He knew that what the elder saw as a "profitable exchange" for the tribe was, in truth, the cornerstone Jumanji had just laid to repair the future and alter the balance of power he had once known.
Once the exchange was completed successfully, Jumanji carefully received the "Dawn Dew Coral Leech," while the assistants also handed him a bundle of copper spiritual cores and several silver pieces as payment for the rest of his herbs.
He had barely taken his first steps away from the massive building when the elder's voice cut through the silence from behind him.
Jumanji stopped in place, a hidden smile curving on his lips where no one could see it.
He had known from the beginning that the bait he had cast would not be wasted.
He turned calmly and saw that the elder had stepped away from the worktable and drawn closer.
In a voice low enough to barely carry, the elder asked,
"Fellow spiritual practitioner… since you have wandered through many tribes and mingled with all manner of wise men, I wish to ask you about a matter of great importance."
Jumanji feigned interest and stepped a little closer.
"Please, Elder. What troubles you? If it lies within the bounds of my modest knowledge, I will not withhold an answer."
At that, the elder's expression turned grave.
The softness left his eyes, replaced by a hard and solemn seriousness.
Then he asked directly:
"Have you ever come across a method to heal a leech… or rather, to save a 'farm embryo' once it has been afflicted by a fatal illness?"
In that moment, Jumanji slipped into his role with breathtaking precision.
His expression shifted instantly into a blend of shock and caution.
He cast a swift, suspicious glance toward the apothecaries still immersed in their testing, then turned back to the elder and whispered,
"Does the elder possess a sick leech?"
The elder nodded quickly, as though he had suddenly glimpsed a ray of hope.
"Yes… yes, I do. I have a leech in critical condition, and I need every bit of help I can find.
If you possess a way to heal it, then the Carp Tribe will owe you a favor it will never forget, no matter how much time passes.
And you will receive rewards beyond your imagination."
Jumanji lowered his head as though deep in thought.
Then he raised his eyes and said in a hesitant voice,
"In truth… I have come across an old and rare method.
But I cannot guarantee its success.
I am still in the process of learning its secrets and testing its limits."
The elder could not contain his excitement.
"Is that truly what you're saying?!" he blurted out so loudly that every apothecary in the hall stopped what they were doing and turned to look in astonishment.
Jumanji, meanwhile, remained perfectly calm—
like a hunter watching the final snap of his trap.
Once the apothecaries had returned to their work after that stunned pause, Jumanji continued in a carefully measured tone.
"Yes, Elder, I can confirm that such a method exists.
However, it requires rare resources and painstaking work.
The preparation alone may take a full two months."
The elder replied without a shred of hesitation.
"Whether it takes two months or more is irrelevant.
So long as there is even the slightest hope of treatment, time does not matter.
Ask for whatever resources you need, and the tribe will devote all its means to acquiring them—
provided this nightmare ends, and the embryo is healed."
Jumanji feigned reluctance and let out a heavy sigh.
"But Elder… the required resources are immense.
Their value and rarity may very well exceed that of the leech itself."
Silence hung between them for several moments before the elder finally said with solemn determination,
"We will examine the matter carefully before taking any step.
But rest assured—we will not cast aside this hope."
Then he turned toward one of the apothecaries and called out,
"Makitsi! I will be away for a while. I leave matters here in your hands."
Makitsi bowed quickly.
"You may go without worry, Elder. Everything is under control."
Jumanji and the elder left the massive building.
They had not gone far when their path was blocked by the same woman who had earlier welcomed the young girl and her overbearing escort.
After bowing respectfully to the elder, she turned to Jumanji and said in a formal tone,
"So, here you are at last… Physician, the Grand Elder is waiting for you in his residence now."
Jumanji was about to respond, but the elder cut her off sharply with a wave of his hand.
"This fellow spiritual practitioner has urgent business now.
Go and inform that old man that he is with me.
We have an urgent matter concerning the tribe leader personally."
The woman was struck speechless.
For a brief moment, it was as though she had suddenly grasped the severity of the situation.
She bowed deeply to the elder with exaggerated reverence before withdrawing in silence.
Jumanji continued walking beside him, fully aware that his path into the very heart of the tribe had now been paved by a single word:
healing.
As they continued along the road toward their new destination, the elder turned to him and spoke in a tone touched with newfound respect.
"By the way, fellow spiritual practitioner… I never asked your name.
Forgive my oversight."
The question had not been delayed because he had forgotten.
Rather, in the beginning, he had seen Jumanji as nothing more than a passing apothecary—not worth the trouble of remembering.
But the balance had changed.
Now, this "physician" had become the very straw that might save the tribe from drowning.
Jumanji paused for a moment.
A calm smile appeared on his face, one laden with hidden meanings.
Then he answered in a steady voice:
"A physician? No, Elder. I am not fond of formal titles…
You may simply call me—
'The Shepherd of Sheep.'"
The name struck the elder as strange, but he did not comment.
After all, great apothecaries were often men of eccentric tastes and curious aliases—names that hinted at humility while concealing storms of power beneath them.
He merely nodded in respect, and the two of them continued onward in silence.
Meanwhile, deep inside, Jumanji was quietly savoring his new title.
Because he truly did intend to "shepherd" this tribe—
but only toward the fate he himself had so carefully prepared for them.
**End of Chapter**