Our Family Has Fallen

”The Imperial People are cunning. If this is a trap, then we’ll just go eat the bait.

If it’s not a trap, and Bastia truly is in decline, then we should seize the opportunity to loot the easiest part of their resources before they can react.

To change the mindset of those tribes, they must do what others dare not and prove that looting is simpler and more rewarding than hunting.”

The Priest’s meaning was simple: the Fang Tribe should launch a raid. Concerned that the youth might not understand, he added one more crucial sentence.

”The tribe needs this; we need a grand sacrificial ceremony to appease the Wolf God, and it requires a large amount of offerings.”

Now, there’s nothing more important in the Fang Tribe than saving the Wolf God. Without the Wolf God, the entire tribe wouldn’t have the means to survive. As long as the Wolf God remains, even if just barely surviving, there’s still hope.

”I understand.” The youth’s expression was complicated, but he had finally reached this step.

Yet he remained full of passion; the people of the Fang Tribe had not lost their courage!

”Indeed, in their discussions, they often mentioned the leader’s situation...”

The youth had actually ventured there long ago; it’s just that no one paid attention to a kid like him.

He had also gathered many rumors, though regarding the situation of the Warwolf, they themselves were unsure.

”It’s all my fault. If only the Warwolf were still here...” The Priest couldn’t help but sigh upon hearing this.

Although the Priest no longer held hope for the Warwolf, the rare genius that appeared once in centuries, the chosen one most aligned with the Wolf God’s power, the strongest champion in the mountains, still made him yearn for his return, to stand out and lead now.

It’s actually a kind of emotional solace. The pressure was nearly crushing him, and it was normal to fantasize about the Warwolf returning to help share the burden, even though he knew it was a long shot.

Had he known Bastia would undergo such changes, even if given a chance to ascend to legendary status, he wouldn’t have allowed the Warwolf to go.

Even if the Warwolf became legendary, it would only gain an advantage in internal mountain competitions, but currently, the struggle was between the mountains and the Empire. If they could make progress and complete accumulation, the tribe also had a chance to rise.

The difference was investing resources to strengthen the Warwolf individually or investing resources to grow the tribe and then using the tribe’s resources to foster the Warwolf.

If he had a choice, the Priest would definitely choose the latter, joining this ”Autumn Hunt” to loot the Empire and grow the tribe.

By then, a strong tribe could more easily and stably push the Warwolf to legendary status, rather than gamble and result in the current bitter consequences.

However, it was somewhat overthinking, as Bastia’s current situation was an extension of the series of outcomes initiated by the Warwolf.

Had the Warwolf not left, the Earl wouldn’t have found an excuse to invade Hamlet, and the entire Order of Knights wouldn’t have been captured, leading to today’s situation.

Similarly, if the Warwolf hadn’t left, it wouldn’t have gone missing, nor would the Wolf God have been corrupted, and the tribe wouldn’t be in such a state.

It’s all karma...

That night, in the territories near Bastia and the mountains.

A white wolf wandered around under the cover of darkness, its glowing beast eyes observing the nameless village from afar. Then it set off, running once more.

Soon, a barbarian team moved quietly in the dark, surrounded by a group of white wolves. The leader, shockingly, was the Priest’s chosen youth. How could he, the next Priest, be exposed like this?

It was simple: every member of the Barbarian Tribes was a warrior. Wizards and priests weren’t devoid of combat abilities; rather, they could use the Wolf God’s power to perform secret techniques stronger than typical warriors.

The old Priest had decent close combat abilities when he was young, clearly intending to quickly cultivate the youth by having him lead, building records and prestige in front of everyone.

Without saying a word, the youth received the answer from the white wolf: there was indeed no defense around that village.

No one understood reconnaissance better than the Fang Tribe. With a sniff, they could ascertain the conditions within two kilometers, and with the wind, they could smell ten kilometers away.

In front of these white wolves, open or hidden guards, ambushes, they simply didn’t exist.

Ordinary people, without sanctuary, were astonishingly fragile. They had no capacity for resistance against the barbarian warriors and white wolves, captured unawares in their sleep.

This wasn’t the Warwolf’s reckless slaughter; this was looting. When the barbarian warriors rushed into the town, their priority was to control the people, then seize everything, and finally bring it all back to the mountains.

People were also resources, offerings to the Wolf God. These warriors didn’t engage in slaughter.

The next day, news of the Fang Tribe raiding three settlements and bringing back a large number of slaves and resources spread through the mountains.

This wasn’t something to hide; driving hundreds of people into the mountains couldn’t be concealed from those big tribes.

The Fang Tribe showed, through action, what true courage of the sons of the mountains was, and the bounty stirred those with long-dormant hearts.

Meanwhile, within the Fang Tribe,

”I purposely took a longer route outside to showcase our tribe’s strength and bounty.”

The young hero referred to himself as such, stepping up in a crisis, perfectly fulfilling the Priest’s orders through one successful night.

Even the Priest, with his high standards, couldn’t deny he was born a leader, rapidly maturing after being brought into the limelight.

And he completely lacked the wild madness of the Warwolf, which, although aligned with the Wolf God’s power, almost dragged the tribe into trouble.

Anyway, handing the tribe over to him made the Priest feel somewhat at ease, indicating there was a worthy successor.

The emergence of geniuses like the Warwolf dispelled the gloom of war failure. Although the Warwolf was missing now, another equally gifted, even calmer, genius emerged during the tribe’s crisis.

Such relentless emergence of talents showed that the Fang Tribe shouldn’t fall here.

”Good!” The Priest seemed much more spirited, rising with the support of his cane, and ordered the other leaders within the tribe, ”Prepare the ceremony and seal off the entire tribe until the ritual is complete.”

”Yes!”

The people displayed fervent expressions; it had been many years since they had seen such a grand ceremony.

Among them, only the youth seemed somewhat uneasy, but he remained silent.

......

A newly built Bastia camp was suffering an invasion by barbarian forces.

In the early hours, after several guards were killed, the barbarians were discovered as they intruded into the camp, quickly starting the fight.

However, those emerging from the camp weren’t seasoned soldiers adept at fighting barbarians, but rather poorly equipped soldiers, without armor, holding only crude spears.

More terrifyingly, these people clearly hadn’t participated in battles before. Compared to the chaos caused by the barbarian invasion, their own disarray posed the real problem.

Even with veteran overseers shouting, it was still hard to pull them out of their terror.

Meanwhile, the barbarian warriors wove calmly through the ”herd” of chaos, claiming the lives of serf soldiers with swinging weapons or flying arrows.

People were killed constantly, and the lamentations and screams intertwined like countless chickens crying out. If not for the aid of the veteran overseers, these recruits would have scattered long ago.

Strangely, compared to the chaos outside the camp, its core remained eerily quiet.

Under the dim light, squads were already assembled, wearing armor, armed with weapons, ready to mount and charge at a command.

These were clearly the troops Bruce had used to expel refugees: veteran soldiers, powerful knights, Bastia’s true strength.

At this time, atop the camp’s tower, Bruce appeared, his cold gaze watching those assembled serf soldiers as they fought the barbarians with their spears.