Free Web NovelChapter 167: Chapter 165: Should We Burn Him... Or... Bury Him...
(A/N):
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Hidden behind a thick cluster of flowering bushes,
Devara remained completely still as he observed the settlement.
Shakuni crouched beside him, carefully moving a branch aside to get a better view of what was happening.
At first, both of them had assumed this tribe might be connected to the group the eagle had reported.
After all, the location matched.
The people were armed.
The settlement was hidden deep inside the forest.
And several wooden totems and carved stones scattered around the village gave the place a mysterious appearance.
But the longer Devara watched and listened, the more he realized they had likely come to the wrong place.
Or perhaps, not the wrong place.
Just not the place they had expected.
The villagers moved about naturally.
Hunters returned carrying small game.
Women prepared meals around open fires.
Elderly men sat beneath trees discussing something among themselves.
Nothing seemed unusual.
More importantly, nobody behaved like a follower of Pushpasura.
The eagle had specifically mentioned a group speaking about awakening him.
These people clearly weren’t doing that.
As Devara focused his hearing on the conversations taking place around the settlement, fragments of discussions reached him.
"...found their marks near the eastern stream again..."
"...they poisoned another field..."
"...if they come near our lands, kill them..."
His eyes narrowed.
Then another conversation reached him.
A middle-aged hunter was sharpening a spear while speaking to a younger warrior.
"Three years ago they released those insects near our crops."
The younger man spat onto the ground.
"I remember."
"We lost nearly half the harvest."
The older hunter’s grip tightened around the spear.
"My uncle starved that winter."
The younger warrior’s expression darkened.
"One day we’ll find their settlement."
"We’ll burn every last shrine they have."
Devara exchanged a glance with Shakuni.
That wasn’t the language of worshippers.
That was the language of enemies.
A few moments later, another conversation confirmed his suspicion even further.
Several elders sat around a fire pit speaking quietly.
One old woman shook her head.
"The followers of Pushpasura bring misfortune wherever they go."
An elderly man beside her nodded.
"They call it devotion."
"I call it madness."
Another elder spoke.
"My grandfather used to say those people stopped being human long ago."
"They pray for blessings and then celebrate the suffering of others."
The old woman sighed.
"And the worst part is that they think their god loves them."
The group fell silent for a moment.
Then one elder quietly muttered,
"If Pushpasura ever wakes again, it won’t only be kingdoms that suffer."
"It will be every living thing."
Devara slowly leaned back.
Now he was certain.
This tribe wasn’t connected to the people he was hunting.
In fact, they seemed to hate them more than anyone else.
Which made Sage Veenadhara’s current situation even more ridiculous.
Because right now the sage was unintentionally convincing the tribe that he belonged to the very group they despised.
The sage remained tied to the wooden pole while several warriors stood around him.
His earlier confidence had diminished considerably after noticing how many weapons surrounded him.
Spears.
Axes.
Hunting knives.
Even some of the women carried blades at their waists.
Unlike villagers who merely owned weapons...
These people looked accustomed to using them.
Very accustomed.
The tribe leader sat cross-legged upon a wooden platform, studying the sage carefully.
His sharp eyes never left Veenadhara’s face.
Meanwhile, Veenadhara continued trying to defend himself.
"I’ve already explained this three times."
The sage shifted awkwardly against the ropes.
"I am a respected scholar."
One of the hunters scratched his beard.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it’s true!"
Another hunter folded his arms.
"You also claimed a river challenged you to a debate."
The sage immediately pointed at him.
"It did challenge me."
The hunter stared.
The sage stared back.
Several moments passed.
Finally, the hunter turned to the others.
"See?"
"I told you something was wrong with him."
Several tribesmen nodded.
Veenadhara nearly choked.
"What do you mean something is wrong with me?"
A young warrior shrugged.
"Normal people don’t argue with rivers."
The sage looked deeply offended.
"That river started it."
The entire settlement became silent.
Even children stopped running.
One elderly woman slowly lowered the bowl she was holding.
A hunter looked toward another hunter.
The second hunter nodded solemnly.
Neither spoke.
They didn’t need to.
Their expressions said everything.
The sage’s explanation had somehow made the situation worse.
Much worse.
Meanwhile, hidden in the bushes, Shakuni pressed his lips together so tightly that his jaw hurt.
He desperately wanted to laugh.
Unfortunately, making noise right now would be a terrible idea.
The tribe leader eventually raised his hand.
The settlement quieted immediately.
Then he looked directly at Veenadhara.
"You said you know about the followers of Pushpasura."
For the first time, the sage’s expression became serious.
"Of course I do."
The tribe leader leaned forward slightly.
His voice carried an edge now.
"What do you know?"
The sage blinked.
Then answered honestly.
"They are fools."
Several warriors nodded.
That was fair.
"They worship destruction."
More nodding.
"They release insects."
The leader’s expression sharpened.
The sage continued.
"They damage crops."
"They destroy farms."
"They spread suffering."
The more he spoke, the more interested the tribe became.
Several elders exchanged looks.
"...."
"...."
"...."
A few warriors stopped what they were doing and listened.
Even the children seemed curious.
The tribe leader remained silent until the sage finished.
Then he asked the question he truly cared about.
"Where are they?"
Immediately Veenadhara froze.
The confidence disappeared.
The energy disappeared.
Even his posture changed.
Because he had absolutely no idea.
The tribe leader waited patiently. freёweɓnovel.com
The sage coughed. Then coughed again.
Then looked away. Then looked back.
Finally he admitted,
"I don’t know."
The reaction was immediate.
The leader closed his eyes.
One hunter groaned.
Another smacked his own forehead.
An elderly woman muttered something about wasting perfectly good rope.
The tribe leader sighed.
A long sigh.
The kind produced by a man whose hopes had just been crushed.
Meanwhile, Devara’s attention remained focused on the elders.
Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t interested in the sage anymore.
What interested him was the tribe’s reaction.
Their hatred wasn’t artificial.
It wasn’t based on rumors.
It came from experience.
These people had encountered Pushpasura’s followers before.
Many times.
Which meant they possessed valuable information.
Perhaps they knew where the real worshippers were hiding.
Perhaps they knew who had released the insects.
Perhaps they even knew how long this conflict had existed.
As Devara watched them, a thought slowly formed in his mind.
Following Sage Veenadhara here might turn out to be one of the luckiest accidents of the entire journey.
Unfortunately for the sage, he seemed completely unaware of that fact.
At that very moment, Veenadhara was still arguing with a tribesman.
"No respected sage should ever be tied to a pole."
The tribesman thought for a moment.
Then nodded.
"You know what?"
The sage’s eyes brightened.
Finally.
Someone understood.
The tribesman continued.
"You’re right."
Veenadhara smiled triumphantly.
Then the tribesman added,
"Next time we’ll tie you to a tree instead."
The entire settlement erupted into laughter.
The sage looked utterly betrayed.
"...."
And hidden among the bushes, even Devara finally lost the battle and quietly lowered his head to hide his smile.
As the laughter gradually died down, the tribe leader remained seated upon the wooden platform, his weathered face carrying a thoughtful expression.
The old man tapped his fingers against the armrest while studying Sage Veenadhara.
The sage, meanwhile, had begun feeling increasingly uncomfortable.
Not because of the ropes.
Not because of the villagers.
But because of the way everyone was looking at him.
The kind of look hunters gave a wild animal before deciding what to do with it.
That was never a reassuring look.
Finally, the tribe leader spoke.
"What do we do with him?"
The question immediately started a discussion among the gathered tribesmen.
One hunter folded his arms.
"We cannot release him."
Several others nodded.
Another man pointed toward the sage.
"He knows about the followers of Pushpasura."
An elderly woman frowned.
"Or claims he does."
A younger warrior scratched his beard.
"Either way, letting him wander around freely isn’t wise."
The discussion grew louder.
Suggestions came from every direction.
"Tie him up for a few days."
"Throw him out of the forest."
"Make him work."
"Let the spirits judge him."
None of the suggestions gained much support.
The tribe leader simply listened.
Watching.
Waiting.
Then an older warrior stood up.
His face was covered in scars earned from years of hunting and fighting.
His voice carried enough weight that the others immediately quieted.
"This man appeared near our sacred lands."
He pointed toward the bound sage.
"He behaves strangely."
Another nod.
"He knows things he shouldn’t know."
More nodding followed.
The warrior’s expression hardened.
"We should burn him."
Silence.
The words hung heavily in the air.
Even the nearby children stopped moving.
The suggestion wasn’t made in anger.
Nor in cruelty.
To them, it was simply a practical solution.
A dangerous unknown individual had entered their territory.
Eliminate the danger.
Simple. Very simple.
Unfortunately...
Not for Sage Veenadhara.
The moment those words reached his ears, the color drained from his face.
The confidence.
The arrogance.
The pride.
Everything vanished.
"...."
The great sage suddenly looked less like an enlightened scholar and more like a terrified old man.
"What?"
His voice cracked.
The scarred warrior calmly repeated himself.
"Burn him."
The sage stared.
Then stared harder.
As though hoping he had misunderstood.
Sadly, he had not.
The warriors around him began discussing the matter seriously.
Very seriously.
Some were already debating how much wood would be needed.
Others discussed where to build the fire.
One particularly enthusiastic hunter even suggested adding herbs.
Veenadhara felt his soul trying to leave his body.
"WAIT!"
The sage’s shout echoed throughout the settlement.
Everyone turned toward him.
The sage immediately straightened his back.
If panic wouldn’t save him...
Knowledge might.
"You cannot do that."
The tribe leader raised an eyebrow.
"Why not?"
Veenadhara swallowed.
Then spoke with as much authority as possible.
"Because I am a Brahmin."
The warriors looked confused.
The sage continued.
"And more importantly..."
His voice became dramatic.
"...if you burn me alive, every single one of you will suffer
The atmosphere changed slightly.
A few elders exchanged glances.
The younger warriors looked uncertain.
The tribe leader remained silent.
"...."
Veenadhara quickly noticed their hesitation and pressed the advantage.
"You know what that means?"
Several of them did.
The older generation certainly did.
The sin associated with killing a Brahmin.
One of the most feared karmic burdens in many traditions.
The sage pointed dramatically at the gathered tribe.
"Misfortune."
His finger moved toward another group.
"Suffering."
Toward the hunters.
"Failure."
Toward the settlement itself.
"Generations of consequences."
His voice grew louder with every word.
"You won’t merely doom yourselves."
"You will doom your descendants."
The tribe leader frowned.
The older warriors began murmuring among themselves.
Whether they fully believed the warning or not, none seemed eager to test it.
The scarred warrior who had proposed burning him clicked his tongue in annoyance.
A few moments later, the elders gathered together for a brief discussion.
The sage watched hopefully.
Very hopefully.
At last.
Reason was prevailing.
Perhaps they would release him.
Perhaps they would apologize.
Perhaps—Then a young man stepped forward.
One of the younger hunters.
Probably in his early twenties.
His eyes suddenly brightened.
As though he had just discovered a brilliant solution.
The sage immediately felt nervous.
That expression rarely led to good things.
The young hunter folded his arms.
"If burning him causes problems..."
Everyone looked toward him.
The young man smiled.
"Then don’t burn him."
The sage instantly relaxed.
See? A sensible person.
Finally.
The young hunter continued.
"Let’s bury him alive instead."
Silence. Complete silence.
"...."
"...."
"...."
The sage froze.
The smile on his face remained.
But only because his brain had stopped functioning.
The young hunter pointed toward the forest.
"We dig a deep hole."
Several warriors nodded thoughtfully.
The hunter continued.
"Six feet should be enough."
More nodding.
"Then we put him inside."
Additional nodding.
"Cover it."
Even more nodding.
The hunter proudly folded his arms.
"There."
The settlement became quiet as everyone considered the idea.
The tribe leader rubbed his beard.
One elder nodded.
Another elder nodded.
Then another.
The scarred warrior smiled.
"Good idea."
The young hunter grinned.
The sage stared at them in horror.
He had somehow made the situation worse.
Much worse.
A moment ago they merely wanted to burn him.
Now they were holding a committee meeting to determine the most efficient way to bury him alive.
Sage Veenadhara immediately began struggling against the ropes.
"THAT IS NOT BETTER!"
The young hunter looked confused.
"Why not?"
"BECAUSE I’LL STILL DIE!"
The hunter shrugged.
"True."
The sage nearly fainted.
Hidden behind the bushes, Shakuni pressed a hand over his face.
Even Devara had difficulty maintaining a straight expression.
The entire situation had become so absurd that it felt unreal.
The great Sage Veenadhara.
Master of riddles. Master of music.
Terror of scholars.
Defeater of intellectuals.
Currently engaged in a desperate debate about whether being burned alive or buried alive was the preferable outcome.
And judging by the increasingly serious discussion among the tribesmen...
The sage was losing that debate as well.
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(Author note:)
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