In the early morning, facing the warm sunshine, Lin Yue was taken to Wei Lun's residence.

"Good morning, young human. Veron said.

"Hello, honorable prophet" Lin Yue greeted politely.

Wei Lun took Lin Yue to a small garden and the two sat together, Wei Lun asked Lin Yue a lot of questions like this, and Lin Yue also asked Wei Lun many questions that were much more complicated than Du Longtan and them.

The two chatted happily, and Wei Lun also warmly invited Lin Yue to come back as a guest in a few days.

"Lin Yue, do you want to come with me to our tribe to have a look?" Durotan asked.

"Tell me the location of your tribe, I want to walk around first, and come back to you in a few days. Lin Yue said.

"Okay, you're always welcome, guests from afar. Durotan said.

The three left Delaney's territory and returned to the Teroka Forest, where they parted ways.

Durotan looked at the tarbu sheep and his heart pounded. It was a mighty beast, and its horns not only graced its beauty, but were also sharp and dangerous. Durotan had seen more than one warrior impaled to death, and the twelve-forked character was as swift and powerful as a spear.

And now he is going to hunt it, without armor, with only one weapon.

Of course, someone chewed his tongue in his ear. Any adult tarbu sheep would be enough to complete the ritual, and he was whispered to him as he waited in his tent blindfolded. They are fierce in their fights, but during this season, the male sheep have already lost their horns.

There are also such words: You are only allowed to carry one weapon, Durotan the son of Garad; But you can hide armor in places in the wilderness where no one can find it.

The most shameful thing is that shamans judge the completion of rituals based on the blood on your face, and the smell of sheep blood that has long since died is no different from that of a newly killed one.

He ignored it. Perhaps some orcs once resisted these temptations. But he definitely won't. Durotan would go looking for a female sheep. Her horns are sharp at this season; He will only carry one weapon. And what stained his cheeks would be the blood of the beast he had slain with his own hands, steaming in the cold wind.

Now, Durotan stood in the snow that had fallen without warning, and the axe in his hand grew heavier and heavier with each passing moment. The cold air hit him, and he couldn't help but tremble. But he will never back down.

He had been following the tarbu sheep for two days, and for two days he had survived on the meagre food he could find in the wild, and at dusk he had made a faint campfire that turned the snow a light purple. At night, they sleep in shabby shelters. Orgrim had already completed his rite of passage - Durotan was envious of him, for he had been born in the summer. Durotan originally thought that his early autumn was not too bad, but winter came early, turning the weather into a bitter cold.

Even the tarbes seemed to be taunting him. He had no trouble finding the traces they had left behind, their excrement, their hooves brushing away the snow to reveal traces of hay, gnawing off bark...... But they always seemed to be able to avoid him, and he could not see even a single wool! On the evening of the third day, the Ancestral Spirits finally decided to repay his determination. As dusk was approaching, Durotan was thinking dejectedly that he should find another place to stay to end his day, when he suddenly found a few balls of unfrozen sheep dung, still fresh.

They're nearby.

He ran, the snow creaking under his leather boots. Warmth permeates the whole body. He followed the trail with ease, and climbed up a small slope.

Saw a group of beautiful creatures.

He quickly crouched down. Hide behind a boulder and poke your head out to look. Their fur is still dark brown and looks very noticeable in the snow - winter is so fast that they haven't had time to change into white camouflage. There are at least twenty of them in this flock. Maybe more. And most of them are females. Finding the flock was an improvement, but he was faced with a new problem - how to hunt one of them? Tabu sheep are different from ordinary prey, they will protect everyone in the flock. Once one is attacked, the rest of the sheep will come to protect it.

In hunting teams, shamans are responsible for helping hunters distract their prey. And Durotan was alone. He suddenly felt a sense of powerlessness.

Durotan frowned and regained his strengths. He had been looking for the sheep for nearly three days, and now they were in front of him. When night falls, young orcs devour raw meat...... Or turn into a stiff corpse in the snow.

He observed them. Their shadows grew longer and longer as the sun set, but he couldn't be impatient...... He didn't want to make a fatal mistake in a hurry. Tabu sheep are day-moving creatures that are busy digging holes in the snow for curling up to rest. It's their habit, he knows. They lay down next to each other, one after the other. The more Durotan looked at it, the more depressed he became. How could he catch one alone?

Something moved, attracting his attention. She is a young female sheep who is fed with fresh grass and berries in the summer, healthy and energetic. She seemed excited, stamped her feet, raised her head with beautiful horns, and danced merrily around the flock. She didn't seem to want to join the group, but chose to sleep outside in a more spacious area like one or two brothers.

Durotan grinned. This is a beautiful gift from the elemental spirits! The most active and healthy female in the flock, does not blindly follow like the other sheep, but chooses her own path. While this choice is likely to lead to her death, it also gives Durotan a chance to earn honor and adult rights. The elemental spirits understand this balance. At least, that's what everyone says.

Durotan waited patiently. Dusk came and went, and the sun gradually sank into the mountains. When the last rays of sunlight faded, the little warmth it emitted disappeared. Durotan held on to the patience of the hunter and continued to wait. At last the restless one of the flocks folded his long legs and fell into a deep sleep with the others.

Finally, Durotan got into action. His limbs were numb and he almost fell. He slipped out of his hiding place and down the slope, his eyes never taking his eyes off the sleeping hen. She hung her head and breathed evenly, exhaling to fog up in the cold air.

He moved lightly and cautiously towards his prey. He didn't even feel the cold; His anticipation was so eager. His mind was so focused. Drove away the discomfort of **. He got closer and closer. The female Tabu sheep is still asleep in her dreams.

He raised his axe and swung it down.

Her eyes snapped open.

She struggled to get up, but the fatal blow had already fallen. At this moment, Durotan wanted to shout a battle cry like his father, but he still didn't shout, after all, he didn't want to be trampled to death by the sheep full of vengeful anger. The blade of his finely honed axe was so sharp that it sliced through her thick neck and spine. It's like cutting cheese. Blood spurted out, and a warm, viscous liquid splattered Durotan. He smiled; It was part of the ritual to stain the body with the blood of the prey that she had killed for the first time, and now that part was done by her for him. Another good sign.

He had been as quiet as he could, but he still heard the sound of the sheep waking up. He spun around quickly, gasping for air, and let out the long-awaited terrifying wardrop. The shiny blade of the axe had been dimmed with blood, and he clenched the handle of the axe and roared again.

The tarbes hesitated. They told him that if the blow was clean, the sheep would flee rather than attack. Because they will instinctively know that they are no longer able to help their fallen sister. He hoped it was true. If they attack, he might be able to take down one or two. But in the end, he will not escape the fate of falling under the hooves of the sheep.

They moved. They retreated, turned, and ran in unison. He watched them run up the slope and disappear over the top of the slope, leaving only a trail of hoof prints on the snow as proof that they had been there.

Durotan lowered his axe, gasped, and raised it high again, letting out a roar of victory. Tonight, his empty belly will be filled with flesh and blood, and the soul of the tarbu sheep will enter his dreams. Tomorrow morning, he will return to his clan as an adult, ready to take on his duties and serve his clan.

Be prepared to lead your clan one day.

"Why can't you ride a wolf?" Durotan asked impatiently, glaring at her like a child.

"Because this is the way of the ancestors. Mother Kashur said briefly, giving the boy a slap in annoyance. Durotan was young and strong, and the long journey to the Holy Mountain was nothing to him. And she's different; She was old and frail, and she would be grateful if she could ride her giant black wolf, the Dream Walker. But the old tradition is sacrosanct, and as long as she can walk, she will continue to walk. Durotan bowed his head in approval, and the old and the young continued.

Although in recent years, she has felt more and more powerless every time she has embarked on this path, this time the Lady of Cashur was driven away by an excitement of the pain and exhaustion. She had led countless young boys and girls through this journey and completed the final part of the rite of passage, but she had never seen a young man summoned by the spirit of the ancestors. She is old, but she has not lost her curiosity.

For the young, it takes only a few hours to reach their destination, while it takes almost a day for the elderly. As twilight fell, the sacred mountain finally came into view. Patriarch Kashur looked up at the familiar silhouette of the Holy Mountain and couldn't help but smile. The ridge of Voshugu is not as jagged as other mountain ranges, and its tip is a perfect triangle. Its delicate surfaces reflect the sun's rays and sparkle like crystals, unlike the surrounding landscape. A long, long time ago, it descended from the sky, and the souls of the ancestors were immediately drawn to it; Because of this, the orcs built their dwellings in its sacred shadow. No matter what disputes and disagreements the souls of those ancestors had during their lifetimes, they are one in this mountain. She knew she would soon be back, but not as a waddling, dying old woman. This would be her last visit in this old and decaying shell; Next time, Cashur will come as a member of the spirits, volleying like a bird, with no worries in his heart and a new soul.

"What's the matter, Mother?" Durotan asked, his young voice full of concern. She blinked, pulling her mind back to reality and smiling at him.

"Nothing. She assured him sincerely.

When they reached the foot of the mountain, the setting sun had been replaced by a deep night shadow. They plan to camp here tonight and start climbing the mountain at dawn tomorrow. Durotan was the first to fall asleep in the fur of a female Tabu sheep that he had just hunted. Mother Cashur looked at him lovingly. His dreams must have been the innocence of a boy who is not familiar with the world. And what about her, she won't dream tonight; If she wants to be taught by her ancestors tomorrow, she must be absolutely clear-headed. (To be continued......)