At this moment, Ethan Brooks didn’t notice Grant’s gaze; he seized the opportunity to win favor with the clansmen gathered around the well.

“Use stones to build up the edge of the well, that way we can prevent dirt from falling in.”

“We can also build circular steps, so it’s easier to go down and fetch water.”

Flustered, he explained to the clansmen how to lay the stones and build the steps. These seemingly simple instructions took Olivia Brooks a great deal of effort to make everyone understand, and even then, he had to demonstrate with both hands and feet.

Now that the tribe had a water source, his words became much more convincing. The strong men who had previously jumped into the well to dig now scattered around the valley, chipping stones from the mountains.

The water pressure beneath the rock layer wasn’t high. After the initial eruption, it gradually became a gurgling spring. The water surface was about two meters above the bottom of the well, and the force of the water below could no longer be seen.

“Come with me.”

Grant’s words made Ethan Brooks stop what he was doing and follow Grant into the cave. He was covered in mud, but felt a wave of relief—at least he wouldn’t be burned to death now.

The cave where Grant lived was the largest in the whole tribe, and the tribe’s totem pole stood deep inside. For Ethan Brooks, this place was unforgettable; his predecessor, that unlucky soul, had more or less died at the totem pole.

“Become the chief of the tribe. Within a hundred years, make it the largest tribe in the borderlands. If you fail, you will be erased.”

At that moment, the voice sounded in his ear again. Ethan Brooks followed behind Grant, not daring to show any sign of strangeness, pretending he hadn’t heard anything.

“Did you really communicate with the totem?”

An old face nearly pressed up against his own, making Ethan Brooks almost jump. Seeing Grant staring at him, his heart leapt into his throat once more.

Grant led him to the totem pole deep in the cave.

What a wily old man.

“The totem guided me to find water.”

Steadying himself, Ethan Brooks decided to keep up the act. The well had already been dug—an undeniable fact. Even if Grant had doubts, he couldn’t deny it now.

“All right, Grant, you are the wisest person. You must have seen through me. I won’t pretend anymore, I’ll lay my cards on the table.”

“I am the messenger appointed by the great totem, here to help the tribe out of its predicament.”

As he spoke, his eyes filled with devotion. He bowed toward the totem pole, muttering something even he didn’t understand—anyway, as long as it sounded mysterious.

There was a dark red bloodstain on the totem pole, already dried. He couldn’t help but touch the scar on his own forehead.

Seeing Ethan Brooks like this, Grant was momentarily at a loss—it was beyond his understanding.

Finally, as Grant walked out of the cave, Ethan Brooks slumped against the stone wall, as if all his strength had been drained.

“Become the chief of the tribe. Within a hundred years, make it the largest tribe in the borderlands. If you fail, you will be erased.”

Leaning against the stone wall, Ethan Brooks squinted, listening to the voice in his ear.

Buzz.

A mosquito!

He instinctively slapped his own face.

“Become...”

Smack!

“Hiss.”

He hit his wound. His cheek twitched, and suddenly the whole world went quiet.

Peace at last.

Nice.

He gently rubbed his face with his big hand.

Hmm, the mosquitoes in this world are really big.

When he opened his palm, the mosquito was squashed flat, stuck to his hand, with a smear of blood left behind.

Ethan Brooks sneered. “You little thing, I might not be able to deal with that weird voice, but I can handle you.”

There were two or three bean-sized mosquitoes lying in the pool of blood. Then he saw the already flattened mosquito prop itself up on one leg, then the other five legs as well.

“You dare kill me? I’m from the...”

The mosquito that had just stood up fell over again.

Ethan Brooks: “...”

“I didn’t mean to.” Looking at the big mosquito lying in the pool of blood, Ethan Brooks said blankly, “Do you believe me?”

“I believe your...”

Smack!

Ethan Brooks was stunned.

Crap.

It was just a reflex.

He couldn’t control himself.

“Damn it...”

He opened his palm and saw the mosquito in his hand turn into black flames and dissipate.

What the heck was that?

As soon as this thought appeared, Ethan Brooks felt a burning heat rise in his palm, as if he were holding a red-hot iron.

It was smoking.

“Damn it, I really am used to killing mosquitoes.”

With a wail, Ethan Brooks fell into a dazed state. The burning sensation swept through his whole body, and he felt as if he were set on fire.

His body twisted instinctively, both hands raised high, his torso leaning forward in a posture of worship. A green light glowed from his body, and strange phantom images began to appear.

What was that?

In his memory, the world had totems. People visualized totems, using the imagined totem as a medium to draw energy from the void, temper themselves, and gain great strength—enough to split rocks and mountains.

In the green light, a god stood with two green dragons at his feet, a human body with a bird’s face, and two small snakes hanging from his ears.

It seemed to happen in an instant, yet also as if a long time had passed. Ethan Brooks’s vision gradually blurred, like a raging fire suddenly burning out, the flames dying away all at once.