"Chief, news from Ye Zhan—eight thousand barbarian raiders are approaching. They'll reach the Black Earth Stronghold in no more than three hours. Should we prepare now or dispatch reinforcements?" Ye San burst into the hall, his face pale with urgency.
As a senior figure in the Ye Tribe, Ye San knew the Barbarian Tribe well. Unlike the Giant Tiger and Wild Bull Tribes, who were strong in their own right, the Barbarians were a force of overwhelming power.
Why did the mighty Red River factions choose to yield in the face of barbarian aggression?
Because they had fought before—and lost.
In the past, three great tribes had dominated the Red River region: the Giant Tiger, the Wild Bull, and the Horned Sheep. Each commanded tens of thousands. In response to the barbarian threat, the three tribes united, forming the Red River Alliance. Nearly every tribe along the river joined them, amassing a total army of nearly one hundred thousand—surpassing even the current Night Tribe.
That massive force marched into battle on the Black Soil Plains.
But the barbarians sent only ten thousand cavalry—and crushed them.
The alliance was shattered. The Horned Sheep Tribe was annihilated, and the so-called Three Overlords of the Red River became little more than legend. Since then, no one in Red River dared to challenge the barbarians again.
"Don't be so anxious," Su Xingyu said calmly, watching Ye San with an easy smile. "We've been ready for this. Let them come. I, too, want to see whether the warriors of the Ye Tribe are stronger... or whether the barbarians are truly braver."
Ye San hesitated. "Even so..."
"Enough. Go notify the troops—prepare for battle."
Su Xingyu's expression turned cold. "The barbarians already have the meat in their mouths. Why shouldn't we snatch it back? This is our chance. We'll crush this raiding force, strike at their heart, and devour them whole."
"As you command, Patriarch."
Though unease lingered in his heart, Ye San didn't argue further. The Patriarch had spoken.
"I'll go immediately."
…
…
The Black Soil Plain stretched for hundreds of miles. At its center stood the Black Earth Stronghold, a fortress now controlled by the Night Tribe. Once home to a livestock-breeding tribe of tens of thousands, the area concealed a vein of blood crystals underground. After seizing it, the Night Tribe transformed the settlement into a fortified military outpost.
Its dual purpose was clear: to defend against invaders, and to serve as a vantage point overlooking the expansive Black Soil Plain.
After conquering Bloodfang Forest, expansion was the Night Tribe's next goal—and this plain was the most promising target.
As a result, the Black Soil Stronghold became the most heavily defended of the tribe's four fortresses.
Outside its walls, nearly twenty thousand black-armored soldiers stood ready, eyes locked on the horizon. At the forefront rode Ye Zhan, leading the Night Tribe's elite cavalry. His voice rang out across the ranks as he addressed the gathered warriors.
"The barbarians are coming again—those ruthless, wild beasts who pillaged our lands, who once crushed the Red River Alliance despite being outnumbered ten to one. And now, they dare return! Warriors of the Night Tribe, do you fear them?"
"NO!" came the thunderous roar.
"NO!"
"NO!"
Their voices rolled like a tidal wave. Eyes burned red with fury and resolve.
Ye Zhan laughed. "To be honest, I'm a little afraid. These are the barbarians—lords of the Black Soil Plains—who once defeated a force of one hundred thousand. But fear is nothing compared to what I feel now."
His voice rose with fire. "I feel excitement! We have grown from a clan of hundreds to a mighty tribe of hundreds of thousands. We've fought more than a hundred battles to stand where we are now!"
"Back then, we fought with sticks and scrap metal. Even then, we dared face the barbarians. But now? Now we have superior armor and steel. I want to see just how strong these so-called lords truly are. And I want to see if you—brave warriors of the Night Tribe—are worthy of the weapons you carry!"
"FIGHT!!!" the army bellowed.
"The King of Eternal Night watches over us!"
Ye Zhan raised his sword high and slashed it down with force. "In the name of our god, this battle shall be ours!"
"We will win! We will win! We will win!"
The warriors roared like a storm of fire and iron. Their fighting spirit surged like a tide ready to drown the world.
With the command to march, nearly twenty thousand troops followed the soaring Sky-Splitting Eagle overhead and thundered out onto the Black Soil Plain.
In the Divine Realm above, Su Xingyu watched the scene unfold and chuckled.
"I never knew Ye Zhan had such a flair for public speaking," he murmured.
He had planned to grant the warriors his blessing before battle. But now, it seemed unnecessary.
After all, a god should not descend too often. Divine majesty must be preserved.
A god who mingles freely among mortals is no god—merely a powerful creature with a name.
Especially now, when his powers remained incomplete, and he was little more than a ghostly echo of divinity. Better to remain unseen... for now.
…
Dozens of miles from the Black Earth Stronghold, an army advanced.
They wore tattered armor and cloaks of animal skin to ward off the cold. Though their garb was crude, every one of them radiated power. Muscles rippled beneath their skin. Colorful warpaint covered their faces like battle totems.
They looked like beasts disguised as men.
At the front of the column rode a young warrior on a tall black steed. Impatient, he muttered, "How far is it? If I'd known it was this far, I wouldn't have bothered. The Red River tribes are dirt-poor—what's worth stealing anyway?"
"Almost there, Young Chief. Just a little further," a lean middle-aged man replied soothingly. He looked to be in his thirties, his tone calm and placating.
"Phew... phew..." The horses' breaths came in heavy puffs.
The older man looked down at the lathered horse beneath him and hesitated. After a moment, he leaned closer and whispered, "Young Chief, we left before dawn. It's nearly noon now. We haven't rested. The soldiers are growing tired. Shall we stop for a moment? Let them eat and drink a little?"
"Rest? Why rest?" the young man snapped. "This isn't a real war. What's there to be tired from?"
The middle-aged man fell silent, but inwardly, he cursed.
What horse are you riding? What horse are we riding? How is that the same? Damn it.
Still, he lowered his head and said respectfully, "It was my oversight."
"We of the Barbarian Tribe are all warriors. A little cold wind is nothing."
The young chief straightened in his saddle and shouted, "Brothers, hold strong! When we reach Red River, we'll feast! There'll be wine, food, and women for all!"
"Young Chief, that might not be appro—"
The older man began to interject, but the younger warrior turned to glare at him. The message was clear.
The elder shut his mouth and quickly forced a smile. "Wise words, Young Chief."
"Good. See that you remember them."
Suddenly, the earth trembled.
A faint rumble. A steady drumbeat of hooves. One by one, the barbarian warriors looked up.
Then someone cried out, hoarse with disbelief, "Young Chief, enemies! A whole army!"
"I'm not blind—I see them," the young chief growled.
Though rattled, he quickly regained his composure, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "So, they dare come to us. Bold. These Red River rats have more guts than I expected."
He drew his long sword and raised it skyward. "But they'll soon learn... courage means nothing without strength. And strength belongs to us!"
He kicked his horse into a charge, a streak of black lightning racing ahead of the pack. His warriors howled behind him, not with fear but with hunger. To them, this wasn't a battle—it was a feast.
These were Red River weaklings, after all.
No matter how many they had, the result would be the same: crushed beneath the stampede of the barbarian horde.