When the dog was being killed, the people nearby glanced at Jiang Hai with suspicion, fearing outsiders might be unwell or upset. If Jiang Hai had tried to run up and save the dog, they would have immediately restrained him. Fortunately, he had no such impulse.
After the three animals were sacrificed, the old patriarch continued muttering prayers while everyone sat down and recited words Jiang Hai couldn't understand. Later, the young girl told him they were praying—for good hunts, for the health and longevity of their families.
Though the US government had assigned these Native Americans their own territory, they didn't just leave them to fend for themselves. Medical care and other needs were well managed.
In the United States, seeing a doctor is expensive, but public hospitals are free with medical insurance, albeit with long queues. Private hospitals have no queues but come at a high price.
Doctors in the US are a high-income group—true both there and in China. Jiang Hai knew some would say he was talking nonsense, but it was a fact.
Domestic doctors in China tend to behave more modestly, hiding their wealth better to avoid criticism, so it appears they don't earn as much.
Anyway, the lives of these Native Americans were fairly good—except they lived far from civilization.
From healthcare and security to basic needs, the US government managed it well, something Jiang Hai couldn't help but envy.
After the prayers came the day's main event, a display of bravery before the heavens, much like a martial arts competition.
"Indians" isn't a single race, but a general term for indigenous peoples across the Americas, excluding Alaska's Inuit. It does not refer to one nation or ethnicity.
According to the girl, their tribe was a branch of the legendary Sioux. But the Sioux as known historically no longer existed; their tribe was a distant offshoot.
Such a small tribe couldn't pass down fighting skills like the Mongolians in China.
What they called wrestling was more like fighting. Punching and kicking were allowed, but hitting the face or injuring others deliberately was forbidden. Whoever fell to the ground lost.
As the girl explained the rules to Jiang Hai, he listened carefully.
At that moment, the three sacrificed animals lay before the altar. The patriarch ordered the strong women and elders to pack away the cattle and sheep prepared earlier—they would hold a feast.
Jiang Hai was no longer a prisoner, but a guest. The old patriarch said he was a visitor from afar and could participate in the ceremony and feast.
The young people quickly formed a circle. Then an elder, likely the tribe's wise man—what foreigners might call a "gentleman"—stood up.
As he finished speaking, two men stepped forward, jostling for position. After greetings, they took their places and began fighting. Jiang Hai watched from the sidelines.
He had to admit the men's fighting was crude. They rarely dodged, basically taking punches and kicks head-on. Compared to fighters like Bell and others, their technique was mediocre—almost nonexistent.
But remembering the rules, Jiang Hai understood why.
In this competition, touching the ground with any part of the body but your hands meant losing.
Dodging shifts your center of gravity and risks falling, which would be an unfair loss.
So these fights were mostly about strength and resilience, though some subtle technique was involved.
"Doesn't it hurt to fight like this?" Jiang Hai asked, watching the men exchange blows.
"It hurts, but you must endure. The winner becomes the tribe's first warrior. Even if you don't win, showing bravery wins the girls' favor. If you are lucky enough to be the first warrior, there's a special reward tonight," the girl said with a smile.
Jiang Hai grinned. He understood. Though these people now ate cooked meat with seasoning, their customs were still rooted in their own civilization. Watching their traditions was fascinating.
The fight ended with a big man named Bazarkan victorious. His opponent fell weakly under a final blow.
After losing, the defeated returned to the tribe with dignity. There was no round-robin system; winners advanced to the next round until only one remained as champion.
The next pair rose and fought immediately. The fight was simple and rough, but Jiang Hai watched with enthusiasm. He admitted watching raw fist fights—flesh on flesh—was exciting. Not everyone liked dodging, after all.
By the sixth fight, dusk was falling.
Jiang Hai woke late the next day—already noon. After lunch and watching the ceremony, it was nearly three o'clock.
After many fights, darkness began to fall. The old patriarch came to speak with Jiang Hai.
The Iroquois were far away, and they were having a ceremony today too. Their leaders couldn't leave. But they trusted Jiang Hai's safety and told the tribe to care for him overnight. They would arrive early the next morning.
Jiang Hai didn't mind. He'd been away long enough; one more night wouldn't hurt. Besides, without the Iroquois, he couldn't leave easily.
And watching these fights was quite entertaining.
As night fell, women and elders finished dinner and lit a fire. Beneath the stars, near the firelight, the battles continued. Women cut meat, prepared soup, and poured wine, bringing servings to the fighters.
Jiang Hai, as an honored guest, was given a steak, a whole leg of lamb, a large bowl of soup, and a pot of wine.
The wine was home-brewed grain liquor—made from corn but strong. Jiang Hai had never drunk baijiu before.
Later, he developed a fascination for brewing wine and still kept some at home, drinking it regularly.
He was pleased with the wine. Grabbing the leg of lamb, he tore off a chunk and swallowed it. He sipped soup and wine, savoring the rustic meal, like a bandit devouring meat in hearty gulps and drinking from large bowls.
Jiang Hai's generous appetite delighted the nearby Indians—they liked friends who ate like this.
Even the old chief gave him a thumbs-up from afar, admiring his style.
Soon, the meat was nearly gone, the wine drained, and the competition nearly over.
Round two, three, four… By the seventh round, only two men remained.
Jiang Hai recognized one—the scarred man who had led him here.
The other was a man of similar size and weight. The two wrestled fiercely, evenly matched.
The girl beside Jiang Hai watched nervously.
"These two are about equal. It won't be easy to pick a winner," Jiang Hai said with a smile.
"Well, Wei Luo is very strong. He was champion last year, but my brother will definitely win," the girl said, staring at the field as if cheering for her brother.
Jiang Hai smiled, realizing the girl and the strong man were siblings—a detail he hadn't noticed before.
Suddenly, the fight shifted. The wrestlers scrambled dangerously close to the fire mound.
The elders, sensing danger, were about to call them off when the fire crackled loudly, sending sparks flying.
Coincidentally, Wei Luo had his back to the fire, while the girl's brother faced it.
The sparks didn't bother the Indians, but the brother was hit in the face and recoiled.
Wei Luo seized the moment, rushed forward, wrapped his arms around the brother, and tripped him with an outside leg, sending him tumbling backward like a falling mountain.
No miracle happened—the brother hit the ground first.
Wei Luo jumped up and roared triumphantly.
The crowd cheered wildly.
Only the girl looked helpless and scared.
"Patan, you lost. Your sister is mine tonight," Wei Luo laughed at the fallen brother.
In this tribe, on the day the first warrior was crowned, he could designate a girl as his wife—that was the special prize the girl had mentioned.
In truth, Wei Luo had long admired the girl, but she insisted on waiting until adulthood in the outside world. She had turned eighteen just last month.
If he claimed her now, she would be his.
"Let's go." Wei Luo's intentions were clear.
The tribe obeyed the law of the jungle. Though Patan resented it, he could do nothing.
Wei Luo joined the crowd and, upon seeing the girl sitting beside Jiang Hai, smiled naively.
He wasn't bad—he loved her sincerely and vowed to be the greatest warrior to marry her. From another perspective, it was a childhood sweetheart story, but from the girl's eyes, it was anything but happy.
"I'm not going with you," she said to Wei Luo and slipped behind Jiang Hai, using his body as a shield.
Jiang Hai hadn't wanted to get involved, but now it seemed he had no choice.
"Outsider, move aside," Wei Luo said in broken English.
Patan's actions showed he hoped the innocent stranger would protect him. It was unlikely Wei Luo would be kind to Jiang Hai.
"Well, I don't fully understand your tribe's rules, but is there any way to stop this girl from going with you?" Jiang Hai asked with a smile.
"If you want to help her, you'll have to fight for her. But since you haven't competed before, that's unfair, Wei Luo," the tribe leader said, tapping his staff gently.
Jiang Hai smiled and stood.
"That's easy—I just need to win seven matches!"
(To be continued.)