"Nobility and tribespeople, like cocoa trees and grass seedlings..."

The stream winds, flowing beside the harvested rice fields. In the distance, the red cedars of West Mountain stand tall, reaching into the clouds.

Old Militia Chiwaco sits on the field ridge, gazing at the golden mountains, the cedar trees atop the peaks, and the rice fields at his feet for a long time without speaking. He is someone who has suffered, having endured loss and hardship, painstakingly gathering his family back together. He is also someone who has seen much, from Southern Sky to Northern Sea, from a fallen kingdom to a newly established one.

Perhaps, in the entire West Mountain Port, whether immigrants of the kingdom or the local Miwock tribe, only he can understand Old Shaman Cedar. And only Shaman Cedar can speak words that reach his heart.

"...Old Woody, look before you! Plant more of this field, grow more high-yield crops, so more people can have enough to eat!... No matter how some people, after becoming nobles, might stir up trouble... If more grains can be harvested, more can survive, and that's never a bad thing..."

"...Old Corn, perhaps I'm being greedy, always wanting to do more!... Actually, I sometimes regret... If I took over the Miwock Tribes and became that Enfeoffed King... wouldn't I ensure the tribe had enough to eat? Wouldn't everyone, regardless of age, climb to the mountain top together?... But after thinking for long, I'm quite scared!"

"I fear that after becoming a king, things will worsen after my death! They'll use my name to make people worship me, to double the toil on tribespeople, like burning firewood in the flames... I'm even more afraid, that while I'm still alive, the previous 'Shaman Cedar' will change, become a 'Divine Tree' in the Priest's mouth, even considering himself the Divine Tree!... After all, there were no idols in the temple initially, just wood carved in the shape of gods; when many worship it, it becomes Him..."

Shaman Cedar rambles, though sounding like nonsense, his words are genuinely heartfelt. At his age, saying a few open heartfelt words isn't easy. At this moment, he gazes into Chiwaco's old face, his eyes bright, like a child's.

"Old Corn, do you think one day everyone will have enough to eat, no rank above another, no one commanding another... like the Divine Kingdom in the Priest's mouth, where everyone can be peaceful and joyful, dying with laughter?"

"..."

Chiwaco slightly turns his head away, avoiding Shaman Cedar's gaze. He remains silent for a while, thinking of the exploration to East Sea Cuba, of the simple and kind Taino tribe, who eat cassava, smoke happily, and die young. After some time, he sighs softly.

"Old Woody, such a day will come! I've seen such places, seen such tribes!"

"Ah! Where is it?!"

"On the Eastern Sea's Great Island, there's a wonderful group of Taino people; their cassava yields five or six hundred pounds per acre, everyone has enough to eat!... They have neither slaughter nor war, no nobility nor samurai, only farmers, fishermen, and hunters... When we met them, they warmly welcomed us, singing and dancing, smoking and drinking, with young men and women sleeping together..."

As he speaks, Chiwaco's face lights up with a smile, as bright as his fond memories. Listening beside him, Shaman Cedar also gradually smiles. Until Chiwaco finishes speaking, Shaman Cedar eagerly hopes.

"Great Spirit of Nature! What a wonderful place! Old Woody, when we sail southward, returning from that 'Sun Kingdom's Tawantinsuyu'... we'll go to the East Sea! To that Cuba Main Island you mentioned... there, we'll smoke and drink, raise a bunch of beautiful snails, use fish that can suck worms to catch fish! And then, laugh our way to old age and death!"

"...Ah, to Cuba?..."

"Yes! To Cuba!..."

"..."

The old militia falls silent again. He does not tell Shaman Cedar about the weakness and powerlessness of those simple, kind island tribes, faced with dire dangers of evil demons! Like the colorful snails on the island, beautiful and dazzling yet, before the predatory birds and beasts, they are the most sumptuous prey...

"Yes! Good! When we grow old, unable to sail the sea anymore... for the last time, we'll go to Cuba!"

After a while, the old militia still raises a smile. He nods in agreement with Shaman Cedar's suggestion, then strives to smile as he speaks.

"Old Woody! You don't need to lose heart... everything will get better! The trees will grow taller, the grains will be harvested more... there will always be better days, a better tomorrow!"

"Just like the current Kingdom of the Lake, compared to the time of Tarasco, it's already much better! Before, out of ten noble lords, eight were viciously greedy, eager to flay and extract bones... Now, about four out of ten nobles are this greedy, while four do practical things..."

"The present priests have improved even more! At least, many hail from their native village and genuinely guide the villagers. They teach people to compost, organize people to build canals, and even distribute the temple's farming tools to villagers!"

"And there's the blind... cough... a Majesty you haven't seen! He, among nobles, is rare, not only values farming but also regulates nobles and priests, significantly reducing human sacrifices... He's a rare good person, and he looks good too!"

"Ah? The Kingdom's God of Death Great Chieftain, invincible in war and guiding countless fierce warriors as the Wolf King... is he really like that? Quite different from the rumors!"

"Yes! You will surely meet him! He will be happy to see you as well! Just wait until we return from the south..."

The two old men sit squat on the ridge, happily chatting away once again. They talk from Miwock Golden Bay of the Western Sea Coast to the Mexican Plateau at the world's center, and from the Southern Continent's Inca Kingdom to the distant East Sea's Cuban Paradise.

The world is so vast and full of variety, but in everyone's heart lies a Divine Kingdom they yearn for, a utopia of hope! Regardless of whether this ideal Divine Kingdom arrives...

"Chief Divine gazes! The God has arrived!... With blood-red eyes, He watches over you from the sky! He surveys all the tribes, with both flames and thunderbolt, as well as mercy and harvest!"

Over four thousand leagues of clouds and moon, from Miwock people of the Golden Bay to the Yoeme Great Tribe of the Yaki people. Utadori High Priest raises both hands high, adorned in complex ceremonial dress, standing atop the Divine Platform over ten meters high. At this moment, before him burns the blazing "Blue Sacred Flame," behind him, the blood-colored mystical "Eye of the Divine Spirit" rises!

A total of seven thousand Yoeme tribespeople fearfully bow prostrate, worshiping the mighty "Southern War God," shocked by this unimaginable "divine miracle!"

"Citizens of Firestone, tribes of Yoeme, lost branch of the Gummy People! Now is the moment to convert to the Supreme Chief Divine!... Blood oath conversion! Offer your hair, drink the faithful Blood Wine, surrender your souls and beliefs to the Sun Chief Divine in the sky!"

Utadori High Priest passionately shouts, singing the most sacred hymns for the descent of the Divine Kingdom in his heart. And over a thousand Kingdom's Warriors, armored and holding axes, stand beside the clusters of Sacred Fire. More than a thousand early converted Yoeme tribespeople, facing the "Eye of the Divine Spirit" in the sky, bow and shout the name of the Chief Divine fervently!

"Praise the manifest Southern Great Divine Spirit! Praise the flying Sun Great Chief God!"

"Convert to the Supreme Great Chief Divine! He devours all gods and is the mightiest War God!"

Clusters of Sacred Fire burn bright, as Kingdom's priests stand before them, accompanied by dozens of local Priest Apprentices. Solemnly, they hold short daggers made of Obsidian, awaiting the imminent blood oath conversion! And this time, they aim to fully convert the mighty Yoeme Great Tribe, ensuring that all branches of Yaki within a two-hundred league radius, henceforth belong to the Chief Divine's embrace!

This moment comes seven days after the long-planned, insiders' autumn ambush. With the help of a thousand local disciples, the entire Yoeme Great Tribe's order has completely settled. Meanwhile, the Yoeme Tribe's Mountain Eagle Chief, leading two thousand warriors on an expedition against the "Mountain Tribes," had already encountered the Feather Clan's ambush, suffering a dreadful defeat, likely never to return...