Chapter 322: Fragile Peace

“Kill the leader, and once the herd charges, this Tauren tribe will be finished.” 

High above, Xeila remarked with a hint of regret.

“We can’t kill them all,” Wu Qingsong said with a trace of helplessness. “The fundamental principle of politics is to seek and win allies, not turn everyone into enemies.”

For these beastmen—herders and hunters who lacked organization and discipline—an ambush in the dead of night wouldn’t wipe them out completely, but it would at least cripple them, leaving them too weak to continue forward.

Wu Qingsong had used this exact strategy to crush the Antai tribe’s army before.

The undead bison and moose under his control numbered just over six hundred, but each one had sharp metal spearheads affixed to its horns, chest armor designed to enhance impact, and iron horseshoes nailed to its hooves. The destruction they caused was no less than a heavy cavalry charge, yet they were more agile, resilient, and relentless.

Under Wu Qingsong’s command, they had silently advanced under the cover of darkness, lying in ambush just outside the enemy camp. 

After Xeila had stormed in, assassinating the chieftain, elders, and leaders mid-meeting, and setting the camp ablaze, the undead beasts appeared in tight formation, charging straight through the densest part of the camp.

In the darkness and chaos, not even the tallest and strongest bearmen or tigerfolk could withstand such an assault. A rare few warriors, driven by desperation and a will to die, managed to bring down a bison or a moose, but the next instant, they were crushed into pulp beneath the iron hooves—without exception.

Even Xeila dared not stand before the undead formation. Without powerful magic or the overwhelming force of someone like Nina, capable of clearing vast areas instantly, anything standing in their path faced only one fate—utter destruction.

After trampling through the camp over ten times, the once-renowned Antai tribe of the southern wastelands had lost all hope of resurgence. Of their eight thousand warriors, at least two-thirds lay dead on the battlefield, while the rest either writhed in pain on the ground or fled aimlessly, having lost all courage.

As always, under the protection of the houndmen, Alice treated the wounded survivors, read them Xuanyuan’s decree, and then released them.

Wu Qingsong was not worried about them turning against him. These men had stared death in the face and narrowly escaped its grasp. He did not believe they had the courage to confront such terror again. Scattered across the wastelands, they would become the best messengers of Xuanyuan’s power and mercy.

The Skude clan was somewhat luckier. This wolffolk-dominated tribe had been assigned to Silvermoon by Wu Qingsong and thus escaped such a devastating blow. 

However, all their leaders, elders, and chieftains were still executed. After Xeila had killed them, the undead herd only charged through their camp twice—just enough to break apart those still struggling to regroup in the chaos. Then, they withdrew, allowing Nina and Daryl’s Silvermoon wolf army to storm in, finishing off the remaining resistance and taking captives.

Any leader overlooked by Xeila was identified and executed. All elders and shamans were also eliminated. To have a medium-sized clan of nine thousand subjugate a large tribe of thirty thousand, there was no choice but to bare their fangs—killing off all influential and capable beastmen, then eradicating those filled with hatred. Only through fear could they be subdued.

Even so, by the time Wu Qingsong and the others departed, they had merely managed to disarm and imprison the captives in several separate groups, remaining on high alert. They had no spare effort for negotiations or absorbing the remaining elderly, women, and children left behind.

Only when Nagrand achieved complete victory would they take further steps. 

By then, Nagrand and Silvermoon would have demonstrated overwhelming power, and these captives would, following wasteland traditions, accept their defeat and integrate into their new tribes.

“Even if we kill them, soon enough, new masters will take over the land. Are we just going to keep killing endlessly?” Wu Qingsong continued. “Slaughter is a means, but it is not the only means.”

Xeila remained indifferent to his words and walked toward the stern of the airship.

Wu Qingsong did not ask what she had overheard, but since she had not gone on a killing spree, it meant the taurens had made the right choice.

Thus, he issued a command into the darkness, and moments later, the undead herd quietly withdrew from the land.

***

At dawn, the Broken Horn Clan began breaking camp and heading north. Only Chief Vaughn and a handful of warriors remained behind as if keeping watch over them. Not long after the tribe set off, an airship appeared in their sights. Wu Qingsong and Xeila descended directly from above, just as they had the day before.

“You made the right choice.” Wu Qingsong said with a smile.

Perhaps there was still a lack of trust and understanding between both sides, but at the very least, this was the first neighbor to choose peace.

“The Broken Horn Clan will temporarily withdraw from this war,” Vaughn said. “But we won’t go far. If Nagrand cannot win, we will have no choice but to continue moving forward for our own survival.”

“That’s fine.” Wu Qingsong said. “A few days should be enough. I believe the water and grass here can sustain your people. Once we defeat the other tribes, you can return along the western coast of the Ice Sea.”

It would have been strange if they had immediately withdrawn back to their territory. If Nagrand were to lose, they would be targeted for betraying the other tribes, facing total annihilation.

“I will send people to monitor your movements to ensure no misunderstandings occur.” Wu Qingsong continued. “If Chief Vaughn is willing, you can join us and see for yourself how Nagrand crushes the tribes along the eastern shore of the Ice Sea.”

Vaughn looked at his warriors, then silently nodded.

“Then, please.” 

The airship hovered close to the ground, opening its hatch for the taurens. However, due to space and weight limitations, only three taurens were allowed aboard.

“Chief!” Some warriors grew uneasy.

Xeila sneered and swung her dagger forward, carving a deep scar into the ground.

The taurens inhaled sharply.

“Return to the camp,” Vaughn commanded. “Tanais, keep the warriors in line and follow the plan we discussed last night.”

The airship swiftly ascended and vanished toward the east. Hoofbeats echoed as a large herd of undead bison and moose galloped across the land, pursuing the airship eastward.

The minotaurs watched in silence for a long time.

“Tanais?” A warrior asked.

The young tauren looked up at the sky, where an unusually large flock of birds circled overhead, and suddenly felt restless. “Didn’t you hear my father? Return first. We’ll decide what to do once the scouts report back.”