Su Xingyu, who was far away in the barbarian tribe, slowly opened his eyes. A trace of fatigue flickered across them as he raised a hand to rub his temples.
"That was pushing it a little too far," he murmured. "I didn't expect the drain to be so massive. I nearly lost control."
Just moments ago, all the divine power he had accumulated over the past half-month had been completely consumed. The descent of divinity—though spectacular—demanded an outrageous amount of energy. If not for the devotion of seventy thousand believers sharing the burden, he wouldn't have been able to intimidate the semi-metal giants at all.
Still, the results spoke for themselves.
Without a single drop of blood spilled, they had taken down an extraordinary tribe of ten thousand warriors. A remarkable victory, unmatched in recent memory.
With the metal giants now under his banner, two of the three dominant powers in the Black Earth Plains had fallen. Only one remained: the most brutal of them all—the gnoll tribe.
The gnolls inhabited the Dark Valley and numbered close to two hundred thousand. While not a supernatural race, their ferocity made them formidable. Born with a thirst for blood and violence, they were natural warriors in every sense.
Fortunately, the barbarian tribes had clashed with them often and gathered a wealth of intelligence.
According to their observations, the metal giants were almost monastic in nature—calm, content with their land, and lacking any real ambition. They spent their days mining, resting, and minding their own business. Honest, straightforward, and most importantly, predictable.
The gnolls were something else entirely.
Territorial, cruel, and explosively aggressive, they had eradicated every tribe around them. No diplomacy, no tolerance—just domination. They were the true predators of the plains.
That's why Su Xingyu had opted to target the semi-metal giants first. These creatures, though powerful, held deep respect—almost reverence—for overwhelming power. A show of divine force, paired with a powerful army, was often enough to break their will.
But the gnolls? No chance.
They didn't know fear. Even if the gods descended from the heavens, they'd bare their teeth and lunge anyway.
So Su Xingyu decided to wait. Spring would be the time to deal with them. For now, he turned his attention inward, to the task of restructuring the recently conquered barbarian tribe.
Hundreds of thousands of people now looked to him for leadership. Integration would be no easy feat.
To help, he transferred a number of experienced administrators from the Night Tribe. But even with their guidance, progress was slow. The barbarians' primitive culture made communication difficult, and many orders were misunderstood or ignored entirely.
It wasn't entirely their fault. The Night Tribe hadn't been much better before reforms.
Still, their simplicity had its advantages. Primitive minds were easier to mold, easier to sway. These people were blank slates, untouched by education or philosophy. Su Xingyu only needed to demonstrate a few miracles, and their loyalty would follow.
Like ancient tribes clinging to totems and idols, they were desperate for something to believe in. And Su Xingyu, the man who could darken the sky and command the heavens, fit that role perfectly.
Yet he knew deception wasn't sustainable.
True faith came from understanding, not blind obedience. One day, he would have to educate them, show them the truth behind the power he wielded. But not yet. For now, change had to come in waves.
Step by step, he began restructuring their world.
The old, chaotic tribal system was abolished overnight. Inefficient, fractured, and unsuited to growth, it was replaced with the structure used by the Night Tribe: six main departments—production, manufacturing, culture, military, construction, and logistics.
Each division had clearly defined responsibilities and reported directly to the city lord—Su Xingyu himself, for the time being.
He also had long-term plans for the region. Instead of transporting resources back to the Night Tribe, he would build a second city here. The land was rich, the people plentiful, and the terrain perfect for development.
Under his direction, the barbarian stronghold buzzed with activity.
New buildings rose from the frozen ground. Infrastructure projects, farmland reclamation, and mineral extraction all surged forward in tandem. Despite the brutal winter winds and snow-covered plains, thousands toiled with purpose.
It still wasn't enough.
But as word of their transformation spread, nearby vassal tribes began surrendering as well. Though he didn't relocate them just yet, Su Xingyu did recruit their strongest youth, swelling the ranks of his workforce.
One might expect resistance—discontent, even rebellion. But he saw none.
Yes, the cold bit into their bones, and the wind cut like knives. But for the first time in their lives, they were warm, fed, and given purpose. Hot soup, strong liquor, and steamed buns stuffed with meat made all the difference.
In past winters, they had cowered in their huts, eating once a day—if they were lucky—and praying for spring to come. Now, they worked through the cold and were rewarded. To them, it was nothing short of miraculous.
Money meant nothing to these people. Barter was still king.
The Night Tribe had started using a rudimentary monetary system, but it wasn't time to introduce it here. Su Xingyu would wait.
With benevolent rule and fair treatment, the newly subjugated people began to accept their place in the Ye Tribe. They couldn't articulate it, but they could feel it—life was better now.
Compared to the violence and chaos of the past, this new era brimmed with hope. Not only did they have more food, they also had real homes. And a vision for the future.
The elderly helped with cooking and weaving. Children were sent to simple schools. Adults built roads, homes, and city walls.
And when they looked at those rising walls, their hearts swelled with pride.
Yes—my home.
That was the message passed down by the city's rulers. This land would belong to them. Their children would inherit it. Their blood and sweat would shape it.
Perhaps years from now, when time had weathered their bones, they would stand before that towering wall and say to wide-eyed grandchildren:
"See that? I carried every stone on it. With my own two hands."