Chapter Twenty-Six: Devotion and Grace

“Roar!”

Even with its body pierced through and black blood gushing, the terrifying crocodile, over ten meters long, continued to snarl ferociously. Ignoring its wounds, it kept scraping furiously at the massive, dark tree root with the sharp claws of its hind legs.

Yet in the next instant, countless fine black tendrils suddenly split off from the enormous root. These were the myriad tiny rootlets that blanketed the main root’s surface. Twining up swiftly, these delicate tendrils soon bound the three-story-tall crocodile tight, wrapping it up like a giant rice dumpling.

At the same time, innumerable rootlets snaked into the crocodile’s pierced wounds, burrowing into its body. Like winches, they churned within for only a brief moment before effortlessly shredding all its innards and brain to pulp.

In no time, the once-terrifying crocodile fell utterly silent.

Meanwhile, the other two roots on the ground lashed out relentlessly, striking at the remaining eight crocodiles—each about five meters long. Every strike from these roots gouged deep dents into the earth, sending dust, flesh, and blood flying. This unequal battle drew swiftly to its inevitable conclusion.

With a thunderous crash, the root released the ruined ten-meter crocodile, which plummeted from on high and hit the ground with a resounding boom. The three monstrous roots, their work finished, instantly withdrew into the earth, vanishing without so much as a further tremor.

The people stared, dumbstruck, at the enormous crocodile corpse before them, rendered speechless.

“A crisis? Can this even be called a crisis?” Simon snapped out of his daze, marveling inwardly.

“Honestly… even without our help, it seems this place would have been perfectly safe.”

“Heh. Now I see it clearly—this is nothing like the world we think we know. Frankly, I’ve already exhausted all my awe and amazement at what’s happened so far. At this point, nothing could surprise me anymore, no matter what happens next.”

“We might as well just get on with what we came here to do!”

The members of the Western Expedition began to chatter again, most of them already regaining their composure.

“A true Tree of Mystery—worthy of its name,” Fanny Campbell murmured in admiration, a feverish devotion stirring in her heart.

“The arrival of the Purple Moon may be an omen of the end times, but the awakening of the Tree of Mystery is a symbol of hope’s return.”

“O mighty Tree of Mystery, your devoted follower, Fanny Bard, offers you her deepest reverence. May your revival bring harmony and renewal to nature once more, and guide your lost disciples back to your path.”

In the Druidic Order, “Bard” was the title given to an intermediate-level bard. In the modern age, with the Druidic Order in decline, there were precious few who still held such a title.

Presently, in the Americas, beyond the three Chief Druids at the summit, there were only eleven Bards within the order. The title “Bard” symbolized harmony and truth, and Bards served as mentors to new initiates. They were required to memorize twenty thousand lines of scripture and master classical arts—reciting poetry, singing and playing ancient instruments. In the Druidic Order, a Bard was the embodiment of nature and beauty.

After her praise for the oak, Fanny Campbell closed her eyes and began to chant, almost unconsciously, the core tenets of Druidry:

“If you wish to become a Druid,
Then, please, contemplate the Druid’s teachings.
Our hearts are in communion with Nature.
When danger comes, do not be afraid—
Like the wild bear, draw strength from your faith.
When you face setbacks, do not lose heart—
Like the sea lion, learn to endure adversity.
When you are lost, do not fall into confusion—
Like the cheetah, seize opportunity from circumstance.
When you are bound, do not grieve—
Like the raven, seek freedom in your spirit.
If you wish to become a Druid,
Then, please, contemplate the Druid’s teachings…”

Nearly fifty, Fanny’s voice was no longer as melodious as in her youth, but it was calm and dignified. Her recitation of the creed drew every gaze.

Moved by her sincere chant, everyone from the Western Expedition instinctively placed their right hands over their hearts and saluted the oak.

This oak was certainly not a product of the Purple Moon. Everything it had revealed today had already attested to that. Its divine intervention, and the help it had just rendered to its followers, were evident for all to see. Thus, regardless of whether they believed in it or not, everyone present showed it due respect.

Perhaps influenced by these outsiders, even the members of the original tribe, who had always performed their own kneeling rituals, instead chose to salute the oak in the same way as Fanny Campbell’s group.

The atmosphere was both devout and sacred.

Meanwhile, Oak Adam was still immersed in memories of the recent battle.

“My body is truly this powerful?”

“Bestowing divine inspiration just now was a bit excessive,” Adam sighed wistfully. “It seems my mindset is still not steady enough. I let myself be intimidated by the Purple Moon phenomenon, and misjudged the situation as a result.”

“Thinking about it now, the Purple Moon’s power is formidable, but it’s diffuse in nature. The abominations it spawns under this kind of pollution could never compare to me, who has been guided directly by my father.”

Reflecting carefully, Adam reached a new conclusion.

“In the days ahead, I should thoroughly examine my own abilities. I’d best avoid making such a spectacle of myself again.”

With this realization, Oak Adam gradually returned his thoughts to the present.

At that moment, he naturally saw the scene of reverence beneath his branches.

“These humans certainly know their manners. Since that’s the case, I should not be stingy in return.”

Given the potential consequences these Westerners might provoke in the civilized world upon their return, Oak Adam had no qualms about perfecting the situation even further.

Thus, just as everyone bowed in devout tribute, three enormous oak leaves—each as large as a washbasin—fell gently from the tree. Along with them dropped six overgrown clumps of mistletoe from the oak’s branches.

The leaves drifted down, fluttering in the air, while the heavy mistletoe tumbled straight to the ground.

The thuds of the falling mistletoe pulled everyone slowly back to their senses. They looked at the six fresh green clumps at their feet, then up at the oak, then noticed the three enormous leaves drifting beneath its canopy.

Glowing with a green, luminous aura, their transparent veins distinct, the oak leaves were mesmerizing to behold.

It was immediately clear to all that these were gifts from the oak.

Overjoyed, Fanny Campbell and her companions saluted again.

In this moment, there was no scheming or deceit—only harmony and a natural serenity that moved even the heavens.

For, in the eastern rainforest, the burning red of the sun was already beginning to rise.