Building a sect from scratch.

Chapter 339 Anyone else have any objections?

"Why should we be told to leave!"

At the tribal assembly convened by Dai Min, a sizable tribal chief raised an excited question.

Although Daimin had already explained the cause and effect, "going out" was the obsession of his Nabahai tribe, not that of other tribes. Or rather, it was the obsession of Daimin, who had truly seen the outside world, but this obsession was also reflected in the will of all the members of the Nabahai tribe.

Those who have never seen what the outside world is like cannot imagine what a normal world is like, nor can they imagine what life would be like without the worry of hunger or monsters. On the contrary, the concept of "going out" is more like asking them to take another gamble in a world already fraught with danger and a life-or-death situation. Not everyone is willing to take the risk; there are quite a few who are content with the status quo—even if the status quo makes them suffer and their lives uncertain.

However, even though it was unimaginable, through generations of inheritance, everyone understood that "going out" was a greater way to survive, not to mention the existence of Dai Min, this "living god," whose appeal was not low.

Therefore, most people were struggling to process the news brought by Dai Min, which was both surprising and frightening. Even if they had doubts, they were not about "going out." Only the chieftain of the tribe he led, whose size was almost comparable to that of the Nabahai tribe, so indiscriminately expressed his refusal and even tried to forcefully suppress Dai Min from the very beginning.

"You think we can just leave like that? We've been trapped here for almost a thousand years! If we could leave, we would have left already!"

The clan chief was visibly agitated, waving his arms and shouting, "And how could anyone possibly get in! Our ancestors have tried using puppet bodies before! And who succeeded?! That rift valley can even absorb divine consciousness! What use are puppets?! Just because they say they came from outside doesn't mean it's true! What if they're those legendary sinners who secretly hid away?!"

The "sinners" the clan chief referred to were the Sword Sect disciples who, after the Sword God betrayed the sect, led their followers in a manhunt. The tribes of the Arctic Flowing Continent generally believed that those Sword Sect disciples were responsible for the harsh living conditions and divine punishment. Therefore, they consistently called those cultivators "sinners."

Of course, according to the legends passed down through generations, those sinners were all killed long ago. But there will always be conspiracy theorists who spread rumors about non-existent crises, and some people, out of a desire to teach children, spread the idea that "sinners punished by the gods will capture and eat disobedient children." Over time, whether those "sinners" actually survived has become less important.

Dai Min's voice wasn't loud, but everyone present could hear it clearly. He asked in a deep voice, "Do you think I wouldn't recognize them?"

Many people only realized at this moment that the chieftain of the Nabahai tribe in front of them was not only the chieftain of a tribe, but also the cultivator with the highest cultivation level in existence, and an "old immortal" who had survived since before the cataclysm - although he looked no different from an ordinary middle-aged man.

A tribal chief from another tribe couldn't help but speak up in protest: "Qitamu, your argument is simply untenable. Even if Chief Nabahai knew those people, what would those criminals gain by deceiving us into leaving?"

The agitated chieftain was the chieftain of the Qitamu tribe, and had only been in office for less than six months. He wore an outer robe more magnificent than any of the other chieftains; the fabric's patterns and designs were intricate and exquisite, seemingly sourced from the ruins of the Sword Sect. The cut of the fabric was also very generous, even a wide-sleeved cloak—extremely rare in the food-scarce Tiangui Mountain; even Dai Min wore fur-trimmed, fitted trousers and a robe with gathered sleeves.

This attire, which should have been spirited, appeared hesitant and timid due to his underlying fear of Dai Min. He glanced fearfully at the calm-faced Dai Min, but still stubbornly insisted, "What do you mean he has no ulterior motives? He can trick us into a trap, seize our territory and food, right? Besides, it's been a thousand years. Maybe he's already forgotten! And there are so many people! Can he remember them all? We've all been doing well here, with food and clothing, for a thousand years. If he says something now, what if things are worse outside? Will we ever be able to come back?"

As he spoke, he lowered his voice again, deliberately muttering in a not-too-loud tone, "Who knows if they're just trying to trick us into going on a blood sacrifice!"

These words were rather serious, and the atmosphere around them immediately became solemn. The other clan leaders didn't even dare to breathe loudly.

The two members of the Qitamu tribe who had followed tugged at their chief's sleeve anxiously. After a long silence, Dai Min suddenly asked, "How is Moragen?"

Molagen was the old chieftain of the Tamu tribe, and he had lived for over three hundred years. Although he was old and frail, he had not died.

The newly appointed chieftain is a great-grandson of Moragon. He is not very old, only in his fifties, and was put in power when Moragon's mental state was deteriorating. The reason why Moragon put him in power while he was still alive was probably to help him consolidate his position.

“My great-grandfather…”

The young clan chief was somewhat bewildered by Dai Min's question. After making a brief attempt, he stammered for a long time without managing to say anything coherent.

An old man behind him coughed twice and answered on his behalf, "Thank you for your concern, Nabahai. The old chieftain is still in good health. He even ate two large pancakes yesterday!"

“Hmm, he seems to be in good spirits,” Dai Min nodded slightly. “Then let Moragun work hard for a while longer and choose a new successor!”

"What--"

Before anyone could react, Dai Min waved his hand, his eyes suddenly turned golden, and three illusory golden longswords appeared behind him!

The longswords emitted a resounding clang that echoed through the heavens and earth before flying in unison toward Chief Naqitamu!
"what!"

In the blink of an eye, a scream was heard, and Chief Naqitamu was pinned to the ground by three flying swords, without even a drop of blood flying out.

His eyes were wide open, almost bulging out, as if he couldn't understand his fate at all, his face twisted with confusion and fear.

Only his hands and feet were still twitching, as if in a final, unwilling struggle.

"This, this, this, this..."

The old man Qitamu who had previously answered Daimin was so frightened that he didn't know how to react. He stammered "this" for a long time, wanting to question her but not daring to ask.

Dai Min's golden eyes were no longer the same as before. He merely glanced at everyone and calmly asked, "Which tribe has any objections?"