Jumanji roamed through the tribe with complete indifference, leaving behind a council chamber boiling with conflict and life-altering decisions.
For the elders, this was never a simple choice. It was a gamble with the entire future of the Carp Fish Tribe. Caught between the outrageous demands of the "Shepherd" and the disaster of the stolen "Lightning Jewels," the wise men found themselves backed into a corner with no way out.
After long hours of heated debate and mutual accusations that nearly shattered the council's unity, the final decision was placed in the chief's hands.
Unexpectedly, Elder Zahour was chosen to act as the official spokesman and direct coordinator with Jumanji. The decision lit a fuse of fury inside Elder Baido. He stormed out of the hall with a dark expression, dragging disappointment behind him while sparks seemed to flash in his eyes, as if he were already plotting something in secret.
In a quiet corner of the guest residence, Jumanji sat facing Elder Zahour.
As always, Jumanji looked like a statue carved from stillness itself. His eyes revealed nothing, and his calm was the sort that could easily irritate anyone who didn't truly understand him.
Elder Zahour, however, was the exact opposite of his guest. He looked pale and exhausted, the marks of sleepless nights and constant anxiety clearly etched onto his face ever since disaster after disaster had descended upon the tribe.
Elder Zahour was the first to break the silence, his voice rough and unsteady.
"The council has made its decision, Jumanji… but the price you demand may lead us all to our deaths before we ever live to see the leech healed."
He paused for a moment, as if forcing down a bitter knot in his throat, before continuing in a quieter voice.
"Everything you asked for will be provided. We have drained our resources to the point of emptying half the stock of the spiritual farm just to gather everything on that list.
And fortunately… the Black Honey Bee already exists within our private farms, so we won't have to risk venturing out to hunt it."
Then he looked at Jumanji with a gaze full of pleading and helplessness.
"I ask only one thing of you… do everything in your power to heal this fetus. Our fate now rests in your hands."
Jumanji deliberately painted a look of surprise across his face and replied in a cold tone that carried no real emotion.
"Is that so? You actually possess that rank-seven spiritual bee? What a truly unexpected surprise."
Elder Zahour nodded with quiet solemnity.
"Yes… we have raised and preserved it since ancient times as one of the tribe's hidden treasures."
Jumanji folded his fingers together calmly and said,
"Then that greatly lightens the burden on your shoulders. You won't need to spill blood in the depths of the forest."
Jumanji had known from the very beginning that the tribe possessed this rank-seven bee. In truth, it was the very thing he had wanted more than anything else.
To him, it was not merely a spiritual beast. It was the one essential key needed to evolve the Essence of Dusk Night Leech to rank seven.
Once this type of leech reached that level, it would become both a coveted treasure and an absolute necessity for rank-four spiritual cultivators, thanks to its rare properties and exceptional ability to enhance spiritual energy.
Elder Zahour leaned forward slightly and spoke in a voice weighed down by worry.
"I understand that, but I must repeat my plea… do your utmost. We cannot afford to fail."
Jumanji answered with chilling certainty.
"Don't worry. I will succeed.
But the moment those resources are delivered to me, I will enter a state of closed cultivation for two full months.
No one is to disturb me or attempt to contact me for any reason until the appointed time arrives. Is that understood?"
Elder Zahour gave a slow nod, though the gesture carried a trace of warning.
"Very well… we will wait until your spiritual seclusion ends and the two months of closed cultivation are complete. But remember this well—we do not have the luxury of delay, not even by a single extra day.
So the moment you come out of that seclusion, you will begin the healing of the leech exactly as you promised. There will be no room for excuses by then. The tribe's patience has limits."
Once Elder Zahour left, the tribe's preparations quickly took on the atmosphere of a military operation, wrapped in tension and caution.
Carts loaded with spiritual resources began flowing toward the guest residence under the heavy protection of elite warriors, stirring curiosity and unease among the people, who were unaccustomed to seeing such an extraordinary level of mobilization.
From a distant corner, two elders watched as convoy after convoy unloaded its cargo into the guest residence, suspicion written plainly across their faces.
One of them muttered in disbelief, shaking his head.
"All these treasures and rare resources… just to heal the leech? Doesn't this seem a bit excessive?"
The other replied in a quiet voice laced with experience and cunning.
"No, it's not that simple…
Spiritual doctors of his caliber are always extremely cautious. More than half of that list is likely nothing but clever misdirection—extra additions meant to hide the true core ingredients of the treatment.
If he had revealed the real, essential components to us, he would've been a fool, and the secret to curing the leech would've become common knowledge."
The first elder let out an irritated breath.
"But these resources are worth a national fortune… his greed is unbelievable."
The other narrowed his eyes as he watched Jumanji's silhouette from afar.
"If he succeeds, then let him be as greedy as he pleases.
That man who calls himself the 'Shepherd' is not just a doctor. He is someone dripping with cunning, and people like that are the most dangerous of all. They never ask for anything unless they have a deeper purpose hidden far beyond what the eye can see."
The first elder spoke in a firm voice.
"Then it falls to us to watch him carefully. We can't risk him escaping or attempting something suspicious under the cover of seclusion."
The other nodded in agreement.
"You're right. The guest residence cannot be left without heavy surveillance.
I'll issue orders for my men to surround the place and stay alert to every movement. You should do the same. We cannot leave anything to chance."
The two elders exchanged one final nod of silent understanding before going their separate ways, while countless eyes began to monitor every movement around the residence.
Inside, Jumanji shut the doors tightly behind him.
He was greeted by a spacious room packed with various wooden and metal boxes, all carefully lined up across the floor.
Jumanji sat cross-legged at the center of that spiritual fortune in solemn silence, his eyes calmly inspecting the materials he had drawn from the tribe's vaults.
Among those resources, one creature in particular caught his attention. It moved with agonizing slowness, as if it were struggling against invisible restraints or a paralysis that had spread through its limbs.
Jumanji stared at it with deep focus before whispering, his tone touched with quiet satisfaction.
"The Black Honey Bee…"
It was a terrifying creature far beyond the imagination of ordinary people. Its body was enormous, roughly the size of a medium dog, covered in a pitch-black darkness like the night itself, with gleaming silver lines running across its entire frame like mystical engravings.
At its rear protruded a massive stinger shaped like a spearhead, so sharp that the air around it seemed as though it could be torn apart. Above its head, two long antennae slowly swept through the surroundings, as if drawing an energetic map of the very room where it would eventually meet its end.
Jumanji knew full well that capturing this spiritual beast while it was still in its first rank was an undertaking bordering on the impossible. Black Honey Bees never moved alone—they only traveled in organized swarms.
Even a rank-four cultivator might be forced to flee for their life if three or four of them cornered him, so what chance would anyone have against an entire army of venomous needles?
And yet, fate had placed this treasure directly into his hands without the trouble of hunting it down, at one of the most crucial moments of his life.
Jumanji flicked his hand in a smooth horizontal motion.
In the blink of an eye, the surrounding boxes and resources vanished, swallowed into his private space, leaving him alone in the suffocating stillness of the room.
He slowly closed his eyes.
And in that moment, a different kind of silence settled over the chamber—a silence heavy with memories, pain, and the wounds of the past.
Within himself, he murmured in a voice weighed down by solemn vows.
"Mother… Father… Mayromi… my children… my friends, and my tribe… today, I take the first step down this long and desolate road to bring you back.
Just wait for me. One day, you will return to life. I swear to you, I will devote every last fragment of my being, and every ounce of power in this world, just to see your faces once again…
I swear it."
Jumanji's words became a spiritual oath that shook the very depths of his soul.
Then, from within his body, a calm aura began to emerge—quiet, yet sharp as a blade—announcing the beginning of two full months of spiritual gestation, the extent of which no one could possibly foresee.
**End of Chapter**