Chapter 72: Chapter 72: The Chatterbox Elder

“First, use a bone knife to drill a hole in the red maple tree, about five centimeters deep. Insert a wooden slat, then hang the sap-collecting bucket.”

Since Chang Xia couldn’t find any tubing, she had Shen Rong carve suitable wooden slats.

The slats acted as spouts: inserted into the drilled holes, sap would flow down the wood and drip into the buckets. Normally, a red maple with a 25cm diameter could only have one hole drilled—any more risked damaging the tree.

But the red maples on Redleaf Ridge had never been tapped before.

What’s more, these trees were old—most could take three or four holes. Trees over 500 years old could take six, and the 108 ancient maples over a thousand years old, Chang Xia estimated, could take ten holes each without harming their vitality, ensuring they could recover.

“When drilling, make sure to space the holes apart.”

“Secure the buckets well so they don’t fall.”

“Fix the torches in place—watch out for sparks.”

Chang Xia’s reminders echoed across the ridge. The clansfolk and Shen Rong wouldn’t let her tire herself out—no way would they let her climb trees and drill holes. Instead, she carried a torch, weaving through the ridge, offering timely advice and correcting mistakes as people worked.

Except for Chang Xia, all the elders who’d come were up in the trees—drilling holes, inserting slats, tying up buckets. Once the process was done, they watched with satisfaction as sap trickled down the slats into the buckets hanging from the trunks.

“So sweet!”

“I feel like I could drink a whole bucket of sap myself.”

“Stop sneaking tastes! Get back to work!”

Laughter and chatter filled Redleaf Ridge.

The wild beasts lurking at night, sensing the commotion, vanished into the darkness. Forget about attacking—none even dared come close.

To prevent accidents, Gen had everyone release their auras.

Fierce. Bloodthirsty.

If the night had a color, tonight Redleaf Ridge would be blood red.

“Slurp—” Pukang sprawled atop a thousand-year-old maple, mouth open, guzzling sap. He didn’t care about appearances—he’d never cared about saving face. Pukang had always been shameless; just ask anyone who’d ever felt his iron fists.

Tonight, Elder Yami hadn’t come.

After all, someone had to stay behind to guard the tribe. If everyone came to Redleaf Ridge and something happened back home, it’d be a disaster.

Gen, face dark, watched Pukang’s antics in the torchlight, speechless.

He raised a hand to cover his eyes.

If he couldn’t see it, then it wasn’t happening.

“Pukang—!”

While Gen pretended not to notice, the other clansfolk trembled, not daring to make a sound.

A furious roar split the night.

Pukang froze, going rigid.

Crap!

He’d been so focused on Yami not coming that he’d forgotten about Ximu.

“Pukang, you bastard!” Ximu bellowed, appearing in a flash beside Pukang on the maple trunk. He raised his fist and hammered Pukang three times in a row. “Pukang, if you don’t collect a hundred buckets of sap tonight, you’re not allowed to eat any of the maple sugar Chang Xia makes!”

“The tribe could feed a whole small clan with what it takes to keep you fed!”

“Pukang, you’re out of control!”

“Chang Xia said it takes forty liters of sap to make one liter of syrup. You’re just wasting it by drinking so much. Since you love eating so much, go chew on some bark!”

Then, with perfect clarity, Elder Ximu launched into a tirade, one line after another, without pause.

Whether Pukang fainted or not, Chang Xia didn’t know.

But she was starting to get dizzy just listening.

So, quietly, she edged away.

Elder Ximu was usually stern and taciturn, but once he got angry, he’d transform into a chatterbox. And when he got going, he was methodical—he could keep it up from dawn till the next day.

As far as Chang Xia knew, Ximu’s record was three days straight, all directed at Pukang.

No one else in the tribe could make the usually stone-faced Ximu lose his composure like Pukang could. That’s why, most of the time, people kept the two apart.

Because when they met, it was like thunder striking flint.

“Chief—!”

Not far away, a clansman looked about to collapse, sending Gen a desperate look for help.

Oh no!

Why did Elder Yami let Ximu come to Redleaf Ridge tonight?

Didn’t she know Pukang would be here?

Gen’s face went pale, his legs weak. He clung to a maple branch, barely managing not to fall out of the tree.

“Let’s go! Time to go!” Gen said guiltily.

When those two started going at it, no one but the shaman or Elder Yami could break them up.

Terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

With that, Gen was the first to make a run for it.

Seeing this, the nearby clansfolk collecting sap scattered in a flash.

“What’s going on?” Shen Rong jumped down from a tree, grabbing Chang Xia, who still looked shaken. He spoke softly.

He looked around, but didn’t see anything unusual.

Chang Xia covered his mouth and put a finger to her lips. “Shh!”

Seeing this, the nearby clansfolk all looked up.

“Pukang, the ginkgo grove on Mount Elephant at Sacred Mountain Kana still hasn’t been harvested. If you’ve got nothing better to do, go pick all the ginkgo nuts over there. You eat so much, and the tribe’s stores are still too low!”

“I heard you let a few of the mountain sparrow’s beast cubs escape from the tribe yesterday. I think... let’s punish you by withholding your food for three days. Maybe that’ll help you remember next time.”

……

Redleaf Ridge was silent.

In an instant, Elder Ximu’s calm, measured voice drifted into the ears of every tribe member.

At that moment, Shen Rong and the others all understood what was going on.

“This—” Shen Rong was momentarily stunned, glancing suspiciously at Changxia.

Changxia patted her chest, looking pained. “That’s Elder Ximu. Elder Pukang made him angry, so now he’s getting scolded. Usually, Elder Ximu is very nice, but when he’s mad, he can be really scary.”

“Yeah! An angry Elder Ximu is even scarier than the shaman.”

“What did Elder Pukang do this time?!”

“We can forget about a peaceful night. Now that Elder Yami is gone, what are we supposed to do?”

Changxia explained in detail to Shen Rong how Elder Ximu acted when he was angry. Rubbing her temples in frustration, she thought, I really need some cotton.

Shen Rong couldn’t help but twitch the corners of his mouth again.

Just when he thought he understood the Heluo tribe well enough, they’d always surprise him with something new, shattering his expectations.

“So what do we do now?” Shen Rong asked, seeing Changxia’s face twisted in distress. He reached out to gently stroke her cheek, trying to soothe her anxiety.

“There’s nothing we can do.” Changxia shrugged, her face expressionless as she let Shen Rong knead her cheeks. “Just ignore them. Elder Ximu will stop once he’s had enough. Besides, with Elder Ximu keeping an eye on Elder Pukang, we’ll be able to collect the red maple sap a lot faster.”

Elder Pukang might seem unreliable, but when he gets serious, he’s actually very capable. Otherwise, the tribe wouldn’t let him mess around all day.