Arthur drew the longsword from Myr that Raymon Dayne had given him.
The blade flashed with a cold gleam in the dim forest.
"Lucien! Sound the horn!"
"Soldiers! Follow me and kill!"
This was his first time leading a charge in battle, but he was ready.
The remaining warrior squad of Lucien, led by Arthur, let out an earth-shattering roar.
They leaped out from the dense woods and charged towards the Burning Men Tribe wildlings, whose formation was already in disarray.
Wildlings equal war merits! War merits equal money! Time waits for no one!
Arthur led the charge, his figure moving nimbly through the forest.
The longsword in his hand was like a lightning strike; each swing accurately pierced the enemy's vital points.
His keen five senses and superhuman coordination, seemingly brought by the fusion, were brought into full play at this moment.
A wildling wielding a battle-axe roared and lunged at him.
Arthur easily dodged the powerful blow by shifting his body.
With one sword swing, he accurately decapitated the enemy.
The soldiers behind him were stunned for a moment, seeing their lord so valiant, cutting down wildlings as if they were melons and vegetables.
"Are you kidding me! Lord Arthur is that exaggerated?"
Arthur's gaze turned to the rear of the wildling Team.
Hakon was leading his squad, like a sharp dagger, plunging deep into the rear of the wildling Team, completely cutting off their retreat.
The Stone Crow Tribe wildlings were also forced to converge towards the Burning Men Tribe, falling into a desperate situation of being attacked from front and back.
After the first wave of attack, they reacted quickly, abandoning the plundered supplies and the Burning Men Tribe, and retreating out of the forest.
As time passed, the remaining wildlings were fewer than a dozen, gradually compressed into a small area by Arthur's soldiers.
Arthur sheathed his longsword.
He said to the remaining wildlings, "Drop your weapons and surrender, or die!"
Chief Qi Ke's son Del, who was severely wounded and being supported or rather propped up by his tribesmen, sneered at the Plainsmen who demanded his surrender: "Warriors of the Burning Men Tribe will never abandon their weapons!"
"Is that so!" Arthur, who had intended to trick the wildlings into dropping their weapons before killing them, smiled at them. "Throw spears! Loose arrows!"
The soldiers paused for a moment when they heard the command. The wildlings were basically incapable of fighting back, yet they still had to loose arrows and throw spears first?
But the soldiers faithfully carried out Lord Arthur's words.
After all, Lord Arthur was now like their birth parents, leading them to wealth.
Another volley of dense wooden spears and arrows.
Now, only a few wildlings lay on the ground, wailing continuously.
"I don't keep prisoners," Arthur said coldly.
The soldiers heard Arthur's command, as if they had been injected with a final dose of berserker potion.
They rushed forward, as this was an easy merit to gain!
Wildlings equal war merits! War merits equal money! Time waits for no one!
No mercy, no hesitation.
The final slaughter began.
When the last wildling, still wailing on the ground, was fought over by the soldiers for the finishing blow, the sounds of shouting and screaming in the forest finally gradually subsided.
The usual silence returned, only this silence was so profound that even the calls of animals had disappeared.
Arthur looked around.
Bodies lay everywhere, dismembered limbs were scattered all over.
This was cold weapon warfare, the collision of flesh and flesh.
It was a huge test for the human heart.
But.
His soldiers looked at him with fervent, crazy, and hopeful eyes.
Their faces, bodies, and weapons were covered in blood, twigs, and dirt.
Yet there was no trace of fear or bewilderment.
Only madness and ferocity.
Since the first payday, they were no longer the honest people they once were, but had completely transformed into beasts.
Human life was now synonymous with money in their hearts.
But isn't this the law of survival in Westeros?
To survive, to protect oneself and those one wishes to protect, one must be stronger, more cunning, more ruthless, and more merciless than the enemy.
Kindness and compassion are luxuries reserved for the victors.
Arthur slowly exhaled, wondering if this was truly the kind of army he wanted.
Arthur's gaze fell upon the prisoners who looked at them with fear.
Outside Deep Valley City, in the High Mountain Clan wildling encampment besieging the city.
The tents were arranged haphazardly.
They were all crude shelters made of animal furs and rough branches, with bonfires and scattered food scraps everywhere.
The Burning Men Tribe's camp was the largest, and their bonfires were also the biggest.
They loved fire the most.
Tonight, inside Ti Meis son Ti Mei's beast-hide tent, it was exceptionally noisy.
When the two High Mountain Clan tribes stayed together, there was bound to be quarrels, and now the tent was filled with tribe leaders from various tribes.
Inside the beast-hide tent, the tribe leaders sat in a circle.
They were all clad in beast armor, with their various strangely unique weapons placed beside them.
Red Hand of the Burning Men Tribe, Ti Meis son Ti Mei, was seated in the main position.
He was tall, covered in burn scars, and one eye socket was empty, making him terrifying to behold.
Shagga, son of Dolf of the Stone Crow Tribe, sat to the left of Ti Meis son Ti Mei.
He was burly, dressed in animal hides, with a messy beard, drinking the strong liquor plundered from the Plainsmen.
His battle-axe rested beside him.
Qila, daughter of Qike of the Heier Tribe sat to the right of Ti Meis son Ti Mei.
She was a small yet formidable woman, her chest as flat as a man's, and her skin dark.
And the Milk Snake Tribe, the Moon Men Tribe, the Mist Children Tribe, the Painted Dog Tribe, the Tree Men Tribe, the Howl Mountain Tribe, and the Redsmiths Tribe.
They sat in a circle, their expressions wary, suspicious, and uneasy.
The tribe leader of the Milk Snake Tribe coughed a few times, clearing his throat: "There's been a rumor lately! It's said that a certain..."
Ti Meis son Ti Mei rudely interrupted him: "Rumor! What rumor! What ghost stories have you made up to scare yourselves now?"
"It's not a ghost story..." The tribe leader of the Milk Snake Tribe was somewhat afraid of the Burning Men Tribe, or rather, all tribes feared the Burning Men Tribe.
"It's about a group of Plainsmen, said to be hunting us nearby!"
The eyes of the various tribe leaders flickered. Indeed, several of their raiding parties had not returned on time recently.
"Hunting us?" Shagga of the Stone Crow Tribe sneered, his burly, messy face appearing even more ferocious.
"It's true!" The tribe leader of the Howl Mountain Tribe said eagerly. "My son took people out to plunder food for the tribe! And he never came back!"
Ti Meis son Ti Mei let out a harsh laugh: "I think your son was rooted to death by a wild rabbit! You cowards!"
"Who are you calling a coward?!" The tribe leader of the Howl Mountain Tribe jumped up and roared!
This ignited an even bigger argument.
Some tribes, especially those with missing raiding parties, appeared worried.
They were more inclined to believe the rumor and thought that there was indeed a Plainsmen army hunting them.
The argument grew more and more heated, quickly escalating from a discussion about the truth of the rumor to mutual attacks and animosity between the tribes.
Weapons were drawn, knives, swords, and axes swung through the air, making dangerous whistling sounds.
The wildlings pointed fingers at each other, roaring and cursing, as if a bloody melee was about to break out right there.
Shagga, son of Dolf, slammed a large axe onto the ground with a heavy thud.
But even he couldn't completely suppress the boiling anger of both sides.
Qila, daughter of Qike sneered, not joining the argument.
But her hand remained on the hilt of her knife at her waist, her eyes cold, clearly ready to join the fight at any moment.
"Enough!" Finally, Ti Meis son Ti Mei roared, even though he was the instigator of the argument.
"Cowards who want to hide back in the mountains! Get out now! Those who want to continue plundering! Follow Ti Meis son Ti Mei!"
"Crack!"
Ti Meis son Ti Mei plunged a longsword into the ground, half the blade sinking in.
The situation had come to this.
The tribe leaders of the various tribes, carrying their anger and animosity, left the Burning Men Tribe's camp and returned to their respective camps.
The meeting completely broke down, no consensus was reached, and instead, it brought more suspicion and division.
Each tribe decided to act according to its own way.