Simulador de Vida

The weather was clear, and a solitary white cloud quietly lingered in the azure sky, resembling a lazy sheep. A gentle breeze swept across the plains, through the endless forests, past the occasional cattle and sheep hidden among the riverside grasses, and over the wooden village that sprawled halfway up the low hillside, carrying the solemn chanting of epic praise from the village to distant places.

Beneath a great tree, an aged shaman, his face furrowed and adorned with a headdress of animal fangs, chanted solemnly of the ancestral spirits. Before him, seven or eight youths dressed in coarse linen, each wearing a similar necklace of beast teeth, sat cross-legged with books in their hands, listening devoutly and basking reverently in the ancestral glory.

Lin Zhao was the youngest among them. His features were striking, though his chin still held a trace of youthful baby fat, and a tuft of short hair atop his head stood stubbornly in the breeze, revealing his rebellious spirit.

Compared to the wild, bronze skin of the other boys, his complexion was as pale as the bone book in his hands. Dappled sunlight fell upon him, making him appear almost luminous.

It seemed no one noticed anything strange about him.

Lin Zhao cautiously set the hefty bone book—no less than ten pounds—onto his knees, subtly stretching his aching arms. Like an idle scholar feigning competence, he chimed in whenever the shaman raised his voice to extol the ancestors’ might, occasionally shouting, “War! War! War!” “Great wind, great wind!” “Spirit power, spirit power!” These