While Damian embarked on creating his own method of cultivation in one secluded area of the Roaring Stone Mountain, the Lands of Stone continued their relentless weavings.
Many other things were occurring elsewhere.
An unknown distance away from the Purple Stone Tribe.
As always, jagged stones were painted with blood. Shouts echoed here and there, carried on winds that had witnessed such scenes countless times before. A unique tableau unfolded near what was known as the Tiger Tribe.
At this moment, their Chieftain stood at the forefront of his forces.
He was a Second Circle Warrior. A Bone Tempering Warrior whose skeleton had been reinforced through years of cultivation, whose strength exceeded any mere Flesh Awakening cultivator. The tendrils of Mana beneath his skin pulsed with the deep blue of one who had learned to store power in his very bones.
His forces formed a defensive line in front of their village, stone weapons raised, faces hardened with the determination of those protecting everything they loved.
They looked toward their enemies with those hardened gazes.
Their enemies were those from the Golden Tribe.
The Golden Tribe that was famous for sending a Butcher around the nearby areas in the last few weeks. The Golden Tribe whose name had become synonymous with brutality and forced tribute.
What caused the Tiger Tribe to be dismayed was the fact that at this moment, it was not the Butcher who paid them a visit.
It was the Leader of the Golden Tribe herself.
The one known for their brutality and ferocity beyond even what the Butcher displayed.
And the rumors were true.
When the Chieftain of the Tiger Tribe looked over, he saw that the brutal Leader of the Golden Tribe that many feared was a stoic and slender woman with fiery red hair woven into tight braids that fell past her shoulders like coiled serpents.
Her body radiated pure power, the kind that made the air itself feel heavier. It felt like her bones could crack a mammoth with a casual squeeze.
But the Chieftain of the Tiger Tribe still looked at her and spoke with all the authority he could muster.
"Whatever you do, just know that a lot of blood will be spilled here today on both sides!"
His voice carried across the gap between their forces.
"Why do all this when everyone can simply continue their lives in their own tribes? Just what do you want?!"
His voice was heavy with challenge and barely concealed fear.
On the other side, the Leader of the Golden Tribe listened calmly.
She was slender, yes, but her body held the fullness of a woman in her prime, every curve offset by the compact density of muscles that had been honed through countless battles. Her skin was radiant, holding a warmth that seemed to glow from within, as if the Mana in her blood ran hot enough to heat her from the inside.
She wore treated hide that had been worked until it was supple as cloth, dyed in the sickly yellow that marked her tribe. Bone ornaments hung from her neck and wrists, but these were not mere trophies. They were the finger bones of defeated Chieftains, strung on sinew as a warning to all who would oppose her.
Her power as a Bone Tempering Warrior felt heavier than any other present.
Denser.
More refined.
As if she had pushed the Second Circle to heights that others at her level could only dream of.
Beside her stood a grand-looking Warrior who matched her Circle. He was massive where she was slender, his body a wall of muscle and reinforced bone. He carried a large shield made from the skull plate of some Primal Beast, its surface still holding faint traces of Mana that made it shimmer in the light. In his other hand, a spear of sharpened bone longer than most men were tall rested with casual readiness.
Behind them stood more than a dozen Flesh Awakening Warriors, all dressed in the yellow-dyed hides of the Golden Tribe. They looked forward in silence, their expressions revealing nothing.
An army.
Small, but devastating.
At this time, the Leader actually waved her hand.
Her expression was cruel and bored, as if this confrontation was beneath her notice.
"Bring them out."
...!
Bring them out?
Bring who out?
Under the gazes of many, feet shuffled behind the forces of the Golden Tribe. The ranks parted to allow something through.
Two figures were dragged forward by their hair, their bodies leaving trails in the dust as they were hauled like sacks of grain. The older woman's face was swollen and bloody, one eye sealed shut from the beating she had endured. The younger woman, barely more than a girl, had defensive wounds on her arms and blood matting her dark hair.
They had fought.
They had lost.
The scene was utterly horrendous.
When the Chieftain of the Tiger Tribe saw them, his expression paled and became ashen. The defiant strength in his posture crumbled. His weapon lowered by a fraction.
That was his woman.
That was his daughter.
"I have your woman and your progeny here."
...!
The Leader of the Golden Tribe spoke with a calm and brutal expression that held no more emotion than one might show when discussing the weather.
She was known as the Bone Crusher.
Morgana.
And she was grand, and she fought in ways others never imagined.
She pointed to the bloodied women as she bent her knees, lowering herself with fluid grace to come to eye level with the mother. Her slender fingers caught the woman's chin, tilting her battered face upward.
Morgana did not even look back toward the Tiger Tribe as she spoke.
"If you do not drop your weapons and you and your Warriors do not drop to your knees in the next ten seconds, their heads will fly."
…!
She spoke casually with absolutely no emotion.
As if she were discussing which vegetables to plant rather than the lives of two human beings.
The women before her shuddered!