Chapter 339: A Warning to Others

The turning point came after an attack.

This part of the plains had once belonged to the Boyle Clan, but after Xeila massacred its leaders for the second time, the once-powerful tribe descended into utter chaos.

Most of the beastfolk fled the region. Some joined the rapidly expanding Silver Moon Wolf Clan to the south, but many others, after the initial turmoil and fear, instinctively returned to the land with the arrival of spring.

After enduring the harsh winter, their numbers had significantly dwindled. Small, weak, and scattered settlements formed, yet no one had the intelligence, strength, or authority to take leadership. No one dared to step forward as a new chief. Thus, disorder and lawlessness reigned over the land.

Silvermoon had neither the resources nor the ambition to extend its influence here. It could no longer afford to take in more people and was wholly focused on assimilating its own unstable new members.

Nagrand, with its already small population and lack of powerful warriors, had even less ability to manage the region.

Wu Qingsong sent the houndfolk to search for these new settlements, ordering them to swear loyalty to Nagrand and reading them the newly established fundamental laws of the Icy Sea Clans.

But the power of habit was strong, and Nagrand lacked the manpower to enforce these laws at all times. Predictably, aside from nominal submission, life on the plains continued according to its old rules.

A wandering boarfolk band came across a mousekin burrow and ruthlessly raided them, stealing all the supplies they had recently received from the priests. Nearly half of the mousekin were slaughtered in the process. The boarfolk never considered for a moment that killing mousekin who wore strange holy emblems around their necks was in any way wrong.

Even the mousekin themselves didn’t find it strange. They quickly wiped away their tears and began cautiously foraging for roots and whatever else they could eat. It wasn’t until the priests returned, following their scheduled missionary visit, that the missing numbers and stolen supplies were noticed. Only then did the mousekin reveal what had happened.

“You are already followers of Xuanyuan!” 

The young mousekin priest, furious beyond words, lashed out at his numb-hearted kin. He loathed the boarfolk for their slaughter and theft, but he hated the mousekin’s apathy even more—their failure to take his words to heart.

“The blood of Xuanyuan’s followers can only be repaid with the blood of their enemies!” His roar shocked the mousekin, and what followed left them utterly stunned.

With their testimonies, Ling quickly pinpointed the target using her aircraft.

It wasn’t difficult—the boarfolk hadn’t even bothered to hide their crime. They brazenly displayed the stolen sacks of salt and rice in the most prominent spot of their camp.

A punitive force of houndfolk and mousekin, guided by Ling’s reconnaissance, swiftly tracked them down. The entire group was captured and brought back to the scene of the crime.

Delegates from nearby mousekin settlements gathered as ordered by Nagrand. Representatives from nearby beastfolk clans also arrived to witness what would become an unprecedented trial on these lawless plains.

Under pressure from the houndfolk and priests, the surviving mousekin hesitantly pointed out the boarfolk who had slaughtered their kin.

The boarfolk, however, showed no remorse.

“This has been our tradition for thousands of years!” The leading boarfolk, struggling to suppress his fear, raised his voice in defiance. “We didn’t kill them all! We only culled the weak and useless! If we didn’t, they’d breed unchecked, consuming all the grass on the plains. If that happened, we’d all starve! This is how it has always been! What crime have we committed?”

He could accept death at Nagrand’s hands—he had no power to resist. But being executed for killing mousekin? That, he would never accept.

A murmur of agreement spread through the beastfolk crowd. Everyone knew how quickly mousekin multiplied. If they weren’t periodically culled or driven away, just as the boarfolk claimed, they would overrun the plains, threatening everyone’s survival.

To be executed in public for killing a few mousekin? Absurd!

Even the mousekin themselves were unable to argue against it. Many in the crowd grew restless, huddling together in fear. Some worried that the angered beastfolk might trample them all—including the white-robed mousekin priest standing among them.

The priest made no attempt to challenge this deeply ingrained belief. Morin had already discussed this situation with Wu Qingsong, Ram, and Harold, carefully considering every possible outcome.

They could not simply abolish a custom that had existed for centuries. In truth, they lacked the power to do so. But they could find ways to weaken its foundation, allowing it to collapse over time.

“They are followers of Xuanyuan!” The mousekin priest raised his holy emblem high and declared. “Lord Beck, please recite the laws of the Icy Sea Clans once more.”

Beck solemnly repeated the laws, detailing the protections granted to temples, clergy, and believers of Xuanyuan. Violating these protections carried penalties ranging from exile and forced labor to execution.

The boarfolk finally turned pale.

“We didn’t know…”

“I personally read the laws to you. Here is your own seal upon them,” Beck stated flatly. “What else do you have to say?”

“Please, we were only following tradition…” The boarfolk finally began to beg for mercy.

But the mousekin priest ignored their pleas.

Had they shown mercy when they butchered the mousekin for their own amusement?

“The blood of believers can only be repaid with the blood of their murderers!” he declared solemnly.

Then came the moment that shook the beastfolk to their core.

The captured boarfolk were bound to wooden stakes. A group of mousekin, clad in crude armor, pushed forward strange crossbows, each operated by a team of a dozen.

The beastfolk in the audience scoffed.

What was this? A joke? A circus act?

“I, in the name of Xuanyuan, pronounce you guilty. The sentence is death. Effective immediately!” the mousekin priest’s voice rang out.

With a command, the crossbows fired. Bolts shrieked through the air, striking the bound boarfolk in the skull, killing them instantly.

A hush fell over the gathered beastfolk.

The laughter vanished.

The brutal spectacle silenced them all.

If such a thing happened on the battlefield, would they be able to dodge such a barrage?

“The coerced accomplices shall be sentenced to three years of forced labor in the coal mines,” the priest continued. “May you repent through your labor and cleanse your sins, becoming righteous once more. May Xuanyuan show you mercy, forgive you, and grant you protection.”