Chapter 320: The Broken Horn Clan

“That thing…”

“That is the creation of an evil god!” an elder said angrily.

Unlike the other clans that had spent long periods moving around the Ice Sea and had grown accustomed to seeing airships and flying machines, the tauren of the Broken Horn Clan still felt deep fear and unease at the sight of the massive silver object floating in midair.

Even more so because, right before their ranks, a series of wooden stakes had been erected—each one displaying the severed heads of beastmen. Some of those heads belonged to people whose names they could still recall.

The chieftains, elders, and leaders of the Skude Clan. The high chieftain and commanders of the Antai Clan. They were supposed to march from the south in two days, launching a joint attack against Nagrand and its lackeys, the Tecks Clan. But now, it was clear—they had not only failed but had become trophies of the enemy.

If they had already met such a fate, then the Boyle Clan, which once ruled this land beneath their feet, had likely suffered the same.

Chieftains, elders, and warriors alike were both enraged and shaken. These heretics of the evil god were far too arrogant. It was unbearable. The urge to charge forward and trample them into the ground surged within them. Yet, they were no fanatical zealots willing to die without hesitation. If the enemy had managed to defeat three powerful clans quickly, could the Broken Horn Clan really march forward and meet the same fate?

“Chieftain Vaughn?”

All eyes turned to the towering tauren standing before the severed heads, awaiting his decision. He had always led them wisely.

What choice would he make now?

But at this moment, his heart was filled with the same unease and conflict as everyone else.

As tauren who fed on tender leaves, moss, fresh grass, and soft roots, the Broken Horn Clan had no need for hunting grounds. However, they required vast lands to secure enough food and even needed to periodically drive out the wild cattle and deer herds from their territory.

This meant that they had no direct conflict with the nearby clans of bearfolk, wolffolk, and tigerfolk. Those clans’ hunting of herbivores served to reduce competition for the tauren. As long as they didn’t raise too many sheep, there was no reason for any territorial disputes.

The vast tundras of the northwest Ice Sea were their roaming grounds, and when winter arrived, they would even pass through Boyle Clan territory and migrate south to the Stampede Plateau to escape the cold.

Among all the clans, they were the farthest from the invading heretics of the so-called evil god. Their chances of clashing with them were minimal. According to prior scouting reports, the heretics had chosen to settle in the south of the Ice Sea, farming their own food. This meant no direct threat to the Broken Horn Clan.

If not for the other clans around them joining the war, Vaughn might never have agreed to march with the allied forces.

But now… did the allied forces even still exist?

If half the clans had already been annihilated in such a short time, did they still need to fight to the death just because of the prophet’s words?

“Someone’s coming down from that thing!” someone suddenly shouted.

Vaughn raised his head and saw several long ropes thrown down from the floating silver vessel. Figures were sliding down. Slowly, they began walking toward them.

“Behind them!” another chieftain exclaimed in shock.

From behind the figures, a massive herd of wild cattle and moose appeared, moving forward in silent, synchronized steps—advancing like a dark storm cloud, heavy with the promise of thunder.

Was this what they meant by corrupted beasts, tainted by the evil god?

“Chieftain?”

The blood of ancestral pride surged within Vaughn once more. He tightened his grip on his massive stone axe and let out a mighty roar:

“Prepare for battle!”

The command spread instantly through their ranks. The tauren warriors gripped their colossal weapons and roared in unison, facing down the unknown enemy.

But the cattle and moose stopped hundreds of meters away, unmoving. Only the handful of approaching figures continued forward, each carrying a few bundles.

Vaughn hesitated for a moment, then raised his left hand high, signaling his warriors to hold their ground. With his strongest warriors at his side, he strode out to meet the approaching strangers.

“Chieftain Vaughn.”

The figures stopped a short distance away. One male and one female—both half-elves. And a massive catwoman, so large that she could almost be mistaken for a tigerwoman.

As they drew closer, they got a clearer look at those so-called corrupted animals. They had completely lost all natural instincts. They stood there as still as wooden statues, not even showing signs of breathing. A deep sense of unease crept into the tauren warriors’ hearts—not fear of death, but the primal discomfort that came from witnessing something so unnatural.

“What do you want?” one of the warriors couldn’t help but ask.

“Meow~”

The catwoman across from them scratched her ear with a paw and gave them an odd look. 

“You’re the ones who left your territory and came here. Shouldn’t we be the ones asking you that question?” she said.

“This is not your territory,” Vaughn bellowed. “This land belongs to the Boyle Clan.”

“The Boyle Clan no longer exists,” the male half-elf across from him said. “Just like how the Antai Clan is gone. Just like the Skude Clan no longer exists. Chieftain Vaughn, I came to ask you why has the Broken Horn Clan chosen to step into this mess. If I’m not mistaken, our lands are at least three hundred li apart. We’ve never had any conflicts, not even the possibility of future ones.”

“You are followers of an evil god.” 

Vaughn’s throat felt dry under the man’s calm gaze, but he still forced the words out loudly.

At that moment, the veiled female half-elf suddenly let out a cold laugh.

The tauren warriors were immediately angered by this, but the male half-elf merely shook his head with a smile.

“Evil god?” he said. “If having a different god means we must fight to the death, then the Broken Horn Clan has even less reason to go to war with us. Are the ancestors your people worship the same as the bearfolk’s ancestors? What about the wolves’ ancestors? Since when has the Great Plains ever had a rule that one clan must exterminate another just because their ancestor spirits are different? If they can justify killing us for this reason today, then what’s stopping them from using the same excuse to massacre your people tomorrow?”

“It’s not the same,” Vaughn muttered, feeling like something was off. 

But he noticed some of his warriors visibly wavering. They weren’t necessarily convinced, but at least considering that this might be a way to avoid war.

“We have come in peace,” Wu Qingsong said. Though even he found the phrase somewhat laughable now, it had indeed been his original intention. “We want to use our efforts to bring a better life and a brighter future to the beastmen of the plains. But if someone insists on attacking us for such a ridiculous and pathetic reason, then we will not hesitate to fight back.”

He raised his hand.

The massive herd of wild cattle and moose suddenly surged forward, charging at full speed.

Vaughn and his warriors instinctively raised their weapons, preparing to meet the charge. But then, just as abruptly, Wu Qingsong lowered his hand, and the animals froze in place.

“We do not wish for war,” Wu Qingsong said. “But we also do not mind killing anyone who stands against us. Chieftain Vaughn, I have heard that your people follow the same philosophy. So I believe we should both be able to see eye to eye when it comes to peace.”

“But… but you…”

“I’ve already heard all the lies,” Wu Qingsong interrupted. “We have never forced anyone to change their faith. The Tecks Clan still worships their own ancestor spirits. Even in Nagrand, some continue to pray to their ancestors. If you don’t believe me, send your people to see for themselves.”

Vaughn’s will to fight was gradually unraveling.

Wu Qingsong glanced at Liuli and gave a small nod. She immediately tossed the bundle in her hands toward one of the tauren.

“This is a gift from Nagrand to the Broken Horn Clan,” Wu Qingsong said. “If you wisely choose peace.”

Vaughn’s mind was now completely in turmoil.

Wu Qingsong took advantage of the moment.

“I’ll give you one night to decide,” he said. “You can fall back, make camp, and discuss it among yourselves. But by tomorrow morning, if you’re still standing here, then there will be only one outcome between us.”

At that moment, the airship descended overhead, lowering its silver ropes and swiftly pulling them back up into the cabin. The aircraft then retreated, and the cattle and moose turned in perfect unison, marching away.

“Chieftain Vaughn?” one of his warriors asked.

“Fall back,” Vaughn muttered, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He waved his hand. “Ten li. Make camp.”