This was a phrase taught to him by the man at the Indian goods store in Winthrop. Jiang Hai wasn't sure if it was correct, but at this point, he felt he had no choice but to try. Looking at the crowd before him, Jiang Hai addressed them earnestly.
"Kananzhe? That's Kanazhe, right? Do you know the Iroquois from the Kanazhe tribe?"
After hearing Jiang Hai's words, the Indians exchanged glances, then stepped back. A young girl emerged from the crowd.
Her skin was similar to that of an East Asian, though much darker, with long jet-black hair draped over her head. She looked quite attractive, maybe fourteen or fifteen, with a touch of baby fat. A vine with a feather sticking straight up was tied to her head. She wore a short animal-skin top, revealing her navel but covering her upper body, paired with a fur skirt and a pair of hiking boots from the outside world.
"Uh, yes, I'm from Winthrop. My name is Jiang Hai. Our town has a good relationship with the Iroquois. They have an Indian store there that we're collaborating with."
Seeing the girl speak to him in English, Jiang Hai quickly explained.
"Oh? So you're not in league with those outsiders?" The girl asked, perplexed, looking Jiang Hai over.
"Uh, what outsiders?" He glanced at her, puzzled.
"It seems he really doesn't know about outsiders." Hearing Jiang Hai's reply and seeing his gaze, the girl was sure he truly didn't know. In fact, she had said this just to provoke him. If Jiang Hai had immediately denied it or hesitated, it would have been a red flag. But his reaction convinced her otherwise. She then spoke to a burly man beside her in their native tongue. Jiang Hai couldn't understand, but guessed she was asking the man.
Meanwhile, Jiang Hai studied the burly man. He looked like the leader—almost 1.90 meters tall, a rare height for a Native American, incredibly muscular, with a scarred red upper body. He looked formidable. As Jiang Hai sized him up, the man was sizing him up in return.
"We have no intention of causing conflict with outsiders, but we are conducting our own rituals. If you truly aren't one of those troublemakers, we will send someone to contact the Iroquois to verify your identity, then you may leave."
The Native Americans had nearly been wiped out by the Americans, so they could not help but harbor deep resentment.
Yet now, they felt humiliated. The Americans could have exterminated them completely but instead showed humanitarian spirit by protecting their people, habitats, culture, and civilization—though their numbers were few.
This gesture had helped protect the forests where these tribes lived.
The tribes truly feared annihilation. So aside from a few hostile groups, most adhered to the principle: if you don't bother me, I won't bother you.
The tribe Jiang Hai encountered was neutral. If he hadn't known the Iroquois, they might have captured him and alerted the US government. But since Jiang Hai knew them, he could ask the Iroquois to verify.
After the girl translated the man's words, Jiang Hai nodded in understanding.
"So, should I wait here, or…?" Jiang Hai had no intention of antagonizing anyone. He opened the car door and stepped out, signaling he was no threat, then asked the girl.
"You can drive your steel beast to our tribe and wait for the Iroquois there."
Hearing Jiang Hai's words, the girl translated for the middle-aged man. After a moment's thought, the man agreed.
Jiang Hai breathed a sigh of relief and started the engine.
Though these Indians lived in the Appalachian Mountains, it was still the eastern United States, where land was precious.
Though not on friendly terms with the US government, they couldn't survive solely off the forests.
They needed to regularly replace medicine and daily necessities, just like the Iroquois initially did.
They sent trusted people with supplies to carry out these missions, so they were familiar with cars and weren't surprised by Jiang Hai's vehicle starting. Still, they were curious.
Jiang Hai followed the group, driving deeper into the forest. After about half an hour, he spotted a village of wood and stone near a bare mountaintop. Nearly three hundred people gathered in its center.
Three hundred people was a large number for an Indian tribe.
As Jiang Hai's car approached, men, women, and children emerged. The children eyed his car with great curiosity. Jiang Hai observed the tribe.
They were only slightly better off than the African tribes he'd seen on television.
Modern influences were neither rare nor prevalent.
For example, besides traditional clothing, most attire was modern. Bedsheets, quilts, paper, pens, toilet paper—all imported from civilized society.
But there was no electricity. No fans, TVs, washing machines, phones, or computers.
Jiang Hai's car stopped in an open space before the tribe, and he got out, still holding some uneaten food, which he casually shared with the children.
The children took the food but didn't rush to eat, watching Jiang Hai and the car curiously.
The young people had gone trading and knew what a car was, but these children did not.
"Hello, distant guest," Jiang Hai said while handing out food and then entered the tribe.
An old man surrounded by several others stepped forward and spoke to Jiang Hai in slightly shaky English.
"This is our tribe leader," the girl accompanying Jiang Hai introduced.
"Hello…" Hearing the old man, Jiang Hai became serious and nodded respectfully.
"Sir, could you please explain your purpose here?" the old man chuckled.
"Well, I'm Chinese. In China, there's a saying about cultivating the Way and being close to nature, so I came here to cultivate myself. I've been in this forest for fifteen days and am about to leave today." Jiang Hai spoke seriously.
He was mostly bluffing, but it was better to have a reason than be embarrassed.
"Huaxia, the mysterious East… I heard you know someone from the Kanaza tribe?" The old man said, perhaps skeptical but humored the explanation.
"Yes, I'm from Winthrop. Our town partners with the Iroquois. They opened a small shop near my home. If it's someone in charge, they should know me." Jiang Hai added, emphasizing it had to be a responsible person—not just anyone.
"Okay, I've sent word to notify the Kanaza tribe. But before then, please rest inside. We're offering sacrifices to the gods—you might find it interesting." The old man smiled, not fully believing Jiang Hai but polite.
Jiang Hai knew he wasn't ready for conflict, so he accepted and rested.
After speaking with the chief, Jiang Hai followed guides into the tribe and to the distant square.
After sitting in an open space, Jiang Hai asked the English-speaking girl beside him, "What's going on today? Were you trying to capture someone before you ran into me?"
Jiang Hai was still confused and uncertain.
"Today is our celestial sacrifice. A few days ago, some claimed to be amateurs and wanted to film the ceremony. Our leader agreed, but this morning, while we were sacrificing, they suddenly attacked, injured our warriors, and stole the offering…"
Hearing this, Jiang Hai recalled a Jackie Chan film, Flying Eagle, where thieves tried to steal tribal gems.
Were the tribe's offerings really valuable?
"Are your offerings valuable?" Jiang Hai asked.
"Valuable?" The girl seemed confused. Living here, they had no concept of money.
"Oh, so they can be exchanged for many things?" Jiang Hai tried explaining.
"They're not worth much. You'll see…" The girl pointed toward the distance where the ceremony, interrupted earlier, was about to restart.
The tribe leader appeared on the platform. After a long, unintelligible speech, several strong tribesmen brought offerings.
Jiang Hai looked at them: a cow, a sheep, and a dog.
The cow was a very ordinary Angus, poorly cared for—its fur dull and dark. Jiang Hai had only raised cattle for two years, so he knew it wasn't valuable.
The sheep was a plain Boer goat. What was there to steal?
The dog was average-sized, probably a meat dog—not a prized breed.
"What did they steal?" Jiang Hai asked, puzzled by the humble offerings.
"They took the dog," the girl said seriously.
"Dog? Really?" Jiang Hai was baffled. Who steals a dog? Were there dog lovers in America too?
Laughing at himself, Jiang Hai looked again. The dog wasn't rare.
Dog lovers everywhere seemed strange.
At that moment, the patriarch finished his prayer. The tribe rose, roaring. Jiang Hai stood and roared along.
The strong men carrying the offerings knocked down the animals and began bleeding them.
Blood spurted—shocking, but to Jiang Hai, used to cattle and sheep slaughter, it was nothing.
Could those attackers have gone to rescue the dog because they couldn't stand this scene?
Shaking his head, Jiang Hai thought, This world still follows the law of the jungle. The strong prey on the weak.
Kindness is extended even to animals. Jiang Hai raised dogs but was not opposed to eating dog meat.
(To be continued.)