"Why haven't you attacked yet?"
Outside the valley, a young savage asked with barely concealed anxiety.
He had a long, horse-like face, dark skin, and a powerful build. Around his neck hung a necklace made from animal teeth. Any experienced hunter would immediately recognize them—all tiger fangs. This was the custom of a renowned tribe of the Scarlet Mountains: the Huya Tribe.
The warriors of the Huya Tribe regarded hunting tigers as the highest honor. After killing a tiger with their own hands, they would remove its longest and sharpest fang, string it into a necklace, and wear it on their chest as a symbol of pride and personal bravery.
The savage who had just spoken wore a necklace densely packed with fangs, the longest of which exceeded five inches. One could easily imagine how enormous the tigers he had slain must have been.
Standing beside him were two young savages who looked strikingly similar. Their chests were also covered in thickly packed tiger-fang necklaces, enough to make anyone instinctively glance sideways.
These three were the sons of the Huya Tribe's chieftain—the most powerful tribe in this mountain region—and were famed collectively as the "Three Brave Brothers."
The eldest was Cheka, the second Chimu, and the youngest Cheman.
After discovering traces of the pioneer force, the three brothers began summoning warriors from nearby tribes, preparing to drive these damned Riverlands people out of their territory together. When it came to dealing with the Hewan people, they were natural allies.
However, once they realized that the pioneer force consisted of over two hundred well-equipped and well-trained soldiers, the brothers did not act rashly. Instead, they followed in secret, waiting for warriors from various tribes to gather.
When the pioneer force finally reached its destination and began constructing a camp, Cheka started to feel uneasy.
He could tell at a glance that the valley chosen by these cunning Riverlands folk was an extremely defensible position. If they were allowed to establish a solid camp there—or worse, build a fortress—the wildlings would lose control of this land forever.
At this point, under the authority of the Huya Tribe, the three brothers had already assembled more than two thousand savage warriors. Even so, Cheka still dared not launch a reckless attack.
After all, when facing the regular Hewan army, the savages were at a complete disadvantage in terms of equipment and physical conditioning. Without a numerical advantage of more than ten-to-one, they would never dare to confront them head-on.
Although their current numbers had finally reached that threshold, the Hewan people now occupied the valley itself. Cheka still wanted to wait for more wildlings to arrive.
Yet as time passed, the Hewan people would only build more defensive structures.
Attack now, or delay?
Cheka found himself stuck in an uncomfortable dilemma.
Left with no better option, he ordered harassment raids and sneak attacks, attempting to slow the construction of the camp while testing the Hewan soldiers' combat strength. Along the way, they captured two sentries who had ventured out to scout the area.
What he hadn't expected was the ferocity of the Hewan response—as if someone had kicked a hornet's nest.
That evening, hundreds of heavily armed soldiers poured out of the valley, attempting to search for their missing comrades.
Instead of being alarmed, Cheka was delighted.
From the two captured Riverlands sentries, he had just learned that this pioneer force numbered just over two hundred soldiers—half of them elite troops from House Tyrell, and the other half newly recruited pioneer knights who had only joined before departure.
And now, the most elite soldiers of House Tyrell had all left the camp!
This was a perfect opportunity.
As a seasoned hunter, Cheka never hesitated when prey exposed its weakness.
Once he confirmed that the Tyrell troops had gone far enough, he decisively ordered an attack on the Hewan camp.
In his view, how could a mere hundred or so recruits, along with a so-called knight who was infamous among the Riverlands nobility as a complete waste, possibly stop the assault of over two thousand warriors—even with favorable terrain?
But once the battle truly began, things slowly started to go wrong.
The resistance from the camp was far stronger than expected.
The narrow, deep mouth of the valley was like an invisible abyss, relentlessly devouring the lives of the savage warriors.
"We should already have broken through," the youngest brother, Cheman, said with barely hidden anxiety. Still, he forced himself to stay calm. "There are only a little over a hundred Hewan soldiers left in the camp. They should already be suffering heavy losses."
"Where are our warriors?" a tribal leader who had come to assist couldn't help but ask. "After fighting for so long, how many casualties have we taken?"
The question plunged everyone into silence.
Under the cover of darkness, no one knew the true extent of the losses. All they could hear were the brutal sounds of battle—and smell the thick stench of blood in the air.
Suddenly, Cheka stood up, drew his blade, and declared, "I'll personally lead the charge!"
At once, everyone's faces lit up.
As if the moment the number-one warrior of the Huya Tribe entered the battle himself, the enemy would immediately crumble.
Cheka had taken only a few steps when he felt someone grab him.
"What is it, Cheman?"
Cheman leaned close to his eldest brother and lowered his voice. "Brother… the more I think about it, the more something feels wrong. This might be a trap deliberately set by the Hewan people."
Cheka froze for a moment. "What trap?"
"Think about it carefully," Cheman said. "If the camp ahead can't be taken for a long time, and then the Tyrell army that left earlier suddenly returns… what happens then?"
Cheka's eyes widened instantly—then narrowed again the very next second.
He patted his younger brother on the shoulder. "What you said makes sense. But we can't retreat now. You and Chimu watch our rear. If the Tyrell army really does come back, hold them off for me! As long as I break into the valley, this battle is ours! Every single Hewan must die!"
With that, Cheka turned around and strode away without the slightest hesitation.
Cheman let out a quiet sigh.
He knew his brother was right—it was already too late to wake up now.
Most of the savage warriors were packed tightly inside the valley. Retreat would be nearly impossible. And if they fled without a decisive result, the reputation of the Huya Tribe would be completely ruined.
At this point, the three brothers could only advance—there was no path of retreat.
Just as Cheman clenched his teeth in grim resolve, a savage suddenly came running over, shouting in panic:
"Bad news! The Riverlands army that left earlier has come back!"
Cheman's heart skipped a beat. He silently cursed his own foresight for being right.
But he knew he absolutely could not panic. If he did, this hastily formed savage alliance might collapse on the spot.
Facing the stunned warriors, Cheman forced a calm smile and shouted loudly:
"What are you afraid of?! It's only a hundred or so Hewan soldiers! I'll take three hundred warriors with me—we'll definitely stop them!"
Bolstered by Cheman's courage, the crowd steadied themselves. Praise for the bravery of the "Three Huya Brothers" rang out once more.
Knowing there was no more time to waste, Cheman immediately sought out his second brother, Chimu. Together, they gathered over three hundred wildling warriors and swiftly formed ranks outside the valley, preparing to intercept the returning Tyrell army.
Staring at the aggressive force advancing toward them, Cheman suppressed his unease and forced himself to stay calm.
So what if it was a trap?
As one of the Huya Tribe's three greatest warriors, Cheman had walked the line between life and death countless times.
And never—not once—had he turned his back to the enemy.
"Warriors of the mountains," he roared, raising his weapon,"follow me—charge!"
...
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(End Chapter)