Miss Star, spoiled by her father and brother

Chapter 620 The Last Shelter

The father and daughter arrived at the palace, and the chief secretary came out and led them to the lounge.

"His Majesty is currently having a video conference with General Wufard, General Hans, and several ministers from the Six Ministries. Please wait here for a moment, and I will inform you when it is over."

"A meeting? Now?" Xu Weiwei asked.

"The meeting, which was scheduled to start at 10:30, is still ongoing," the Secretary-General explained.

Xu Weiwei was somewhat surprised; this had been going on for far too long. It seemed the Emperor was encountering some unpleasantness, which was not good news for them.

Another ten or twenty minutes passed, and the secretary-general informed them that the meeting was over and they could go over.

The long argument left Odu II exhausted. He didn't even bother to drink his tea when it got cold, and his lips were chapped, making him look unwell.

Upon seeing Xu Weiwei, he smiled and said in a friendly tone, "Long time no see, little one. Did you come to surprise me or to assign me a 'new task'? Speaking of which, you've practically 'requisitioned' all the royal lands."

Xu Weiwei smiled shyly, then quickly straightened her expression: "Actually... I came here today to discuss something important with you."

Odu II looked up at Sifus, the smile on his lips slowly fading, his expression turning serious.

Meanwhile, on the distant planet Goodl, the chieftain summoned all the tribe's coordinators. The dimly lit courtyard was filled with people, the sounds of insects and frogs making the scene seem even more crowded.

"We don't have much time left. We'll set off at daybreak tomorrow."

What to do with the remaining cattle and sheep?

"Didn't I say? Slaughter them as much as possible and smoke them into dried meat. Let the ones you can't take go."

"Many elderly people are reluctant to part with their livestock and insist on bringing them along."

"There are still many who don't want to leave, and we can't persuade them. What should we do, Chief?"

"Who would object? Tie them up and throw them in the car! Can an arm twist a thigh? They have no say in the matter!" the chief roared, his beard bristling and eyes wide.

A tall man below was trying to negotiate, requesting that the deadline be postponed for another two days. His family lived in the mountains and received the news later than others. They hadn't been able to bring themselves to do it at first, resulting in a large amount of raw meat still being unprocessed. In this kind of weather, it would easily become infested with insects and spoil.

However, the time was already set, and no one could extend it. The chief could only reassure them that there was firewood everywhere along the road, so they could continue to smoke, and the rest of the tribe wouldn't just stand by and watch them go hungry.

After issuing the ultimatum, the people in the courtyard hurriedly left under the cover of night. They still had to continue relaying the message and urging each household to take action. There were still many things to worry about.

The chief and his two sons inspected their wagons and added hay to the more than twenty ewes in the sheepfold. They would be traveling with them tomorrow; the women in the tribe who lacked milk were counting on them.

After finishing their tasks, the chief patted his two sons on the shoulders, telling them to go back and rest. He then picked up his lantern and headed outside.

After leaving the stone fortress, it was pitch black outside. After walking a short distance, a small courtyard in the bamboo forest appeared, glowing like fireflies.

The owner of the courtyard sat under the eaves, a large winnowing basket on the ground in front of him, his withered hands constantly kneading something. The girl beside him was also busy, cutting something that looked like firewood sticks with a chaff cutter.

"Priest, Peach Blossom, you're still awake?"

Peach Blossom greeted him with a smile, then got up to go inside to pour water.

The chief then took her place and took over her work, the guillotine making a crisp "whoosh" sound.

"Are you all done?"

"Well, it's almost there."

"You must have heard a lot of complaints, right? It must have been tough for you to get so many people to listen to you."

The chief, a rough-looking man with a stubble beard, felt a lump in his throat upon hearing this, and almost peed himself.

"Pshaw! What's so difficult about that! They have to do whatever I tell them to do! They can't complain if they don't agree!"

He quickly chopped up a bundle of herbs, then took the codonopsis from the winnowing basket and began to rub it.

At this moment, the chief was overwhelmed with thoughts, yet he didn't know where to begin. Even sitting before his closest and most trusted confidant, the other person could no longer provide him with that sense of security.

After tonight, they will migrate as a whole tribe to the Misty Forest in the west.

The places they used to avoid at all costs are now becoming their last refuge.

The chief's mood grew heavier with each thought. His heart felt like it had been ripped open, letting air trickle out.

He could already foresee what would become of the Goodlite tribe. Sifus had already shown them just how formidable those "outsiders" were.

They were so insignificant in the face of that cold steel, like a swarm of ants at the feet of a giant.

Death is not such a terrible thing. He was not afraid of death; his fear stemmed from something else—the priest sitting next to him.

Compared to the loss of an individual life, the collapse of faith is the most devastating blow to a person.

The priestess was not only significant to him, but also to the entire Guder tribe. She was wise, powerful, and benevolent. Her long lifespan, spanning three generations, made her a guardian deity in the hearts of all.

If their "guardian angel" is gone, it's as if they've been sentenced to death.

Is there any point in making these preparations?

The chief knew he couldn't think like that. These past few days, he had been constantly battling this negative view, but in reality, it was difficult to overcome. He was only putting on a brave face because of his position.

Even he is like this, I dare not imagine how he will persuade others to cheer up when that day actually comes.

In the stillness of the night, the only sound in the courtyard was the soft rustling of hands rubbing together.

"I suddenly remembered a story that I haven't told anyone else yet."

"Oh? What story?" The chief asked, intrigued.

The priest's stories were all very interesting, and everyone loved to listen.

"Once upon a time, there was a man who broke his leg and had been using crutches ever since. After the first week, he wanted to test if his leg was healed, so he tried to take a couple of steps, but a sharp pain shot through him. He quickly took his crutches back."

"The second week, the third week... it was the same. A month passed, and he concluded that his leg would never get better, so he never put down his crutches again."

"Decades passed like this. Everyone in the village called him 'the cripple.' Because of his disability, he never got married, and his parents passed away because of their old age."

"One day, his house caught fire unexpectedly. When he woke up, the surroundings were engulfed in flames, and his cane was burned away. He screamed at the top of his lungs, but no one came to his rescue. He could only drag himself out of the house."

"During the process, the flames licked his leg, and the pain made him jump up from the ground and scramble away."

"He then realized that he could walk properly without crutches. His leg had already fully recovered without him even noticing. It was just that the repeated setbacks had made him lose confidence, and he wasted decades like this."

"Do you think this person is stupid or not?" the priest asked with a chuckle.

The chief choked up.

He naturally understood the deeper meaning behind those words. The priest was comparing himself to a crutch, and they were the "cripples" who relied too much on their "crutches."

She wanted to say that they could live well without her.

But that's different.

The chief was tongue-tied and couldn't speak, so he could only sit on the ground, hugging the emaciated priest and weeping. Like a desperate bear clinging to a tree trunk that no longer bears honeycombs.