Chapter 382: Western Neighbor

The emergence of Nagrand was, of course, not without ripples.

At first, it was like a stone cast into a calm lake, sending out a few waves before gradually settling again.

But as the clans around the Icy Sea began to take shape, as Nagrand continued to develop, and as more daring and shrewd beastfolk merchants formed caravans to transport and sell Nagrand’s goods far and wide, it was as if strong winds had begun to sweep across the lake, giving rise to waves that steadily spread, affecting the surrounding beastfolk tribes.

The initial impression was rather unremarkable. Most of the news reaching these tribes came from the remnants of clans that had once attempted to destroy Nagrand, only to be annihilated in turn. These clans, once standing high above the rest, had seen their status shattered by Nagrand’s sudden rise. Some had even been forced to flee their ancestral lands, taking refuge far from their homeland. It was only natural that their assessment of Nagrand would not be favorable.

But such events had played out countless times over the ages across these plains. Clans that failed in the south would flee northward, fighting and slaughtering to seize a new land, driving away some of the original inhabitants, killing others, and ultimately absorbing the rest to form a new clan on the wild plains.

At times, the powerful clans of the plains would even attempt to march southward, overwhelming beastfolk who had grown weak in the comfort of warmer lands, driving them out or enslaving them, claiming everything they had as their own.

Such cycles had repeated over and over, becoming an ingrained tradition and instinct on these lands.

However, ever since the elves established dominance over the vast southern territories, it had become rare for northern clans to successfully push southward. On the contrary, many beastfolk who had once ruled the southern lands had been forced to flee north, where they were caught in an endless cycle of bloodshed and conflict, eventually shaping the current state of affairs.

This clan called Nagrand might be powerful, but as long as they kept to their own affairs, the highland clans saw no reason to concern themselves.

For the first few years following Nagrand’s establishment, this was the prevailing sentiment.

But over time, more and more news began to spread along trade routes.

The Nagranders had built a city in the southern Icy Sea.

The Nagranders had taken in many weak mousefolk.

The Nagranders had opened coal and iron mines in the northern Icy Sea and begun smelting iron.

The Nagranders lived in igloos during the winter.

The Nagranders relied on fishing and farming for food.

The caravans that benefited from Nagrand’s prosperity brought these reports to the highland clans, shaping a general perception that these people posed little threat.

Rumors of the Xuanyuan Church also spread among the highland clans, but without priests actively preaching, the stories were mostly passed around as casual legends by traveling merchants.

The turning point came a few years after Nagrand was founded, when several highland clans, having endured a harsh winter of hunger, decided to try their luck near Nagrand.

They had no illusions of storming Nagrand’s walls and looting its riches—not with their meager numbers.

However, according to the merchants, Nagrand’s surroundings were dotted with wealthy mousefolk villages. In their minds, raiding a few of these settlements should be enough to recoup their winter losses.

However, they did not expect the mousefolk to resist.

Unlike before, the mousefolk now relied on their burrows to stage a determined defense.

When the beastfolk raiders, frustrated, began tearing up the surrounding farmland in rage and prepared to draw water from the wells to flood the burrows, patrol forces arrived in large numbers.

They surrounded the attackers, crushed them, publicly executed their leaders, and sent the remaining captives to labor in the northern mines.

Not only that—their executed kin were then hung from tall wooden crosses at the edge of the wilderness, a stark warning to all.

The highland clans were both shocked and furious.

Their perception of Nagrand shifted completely.

Some clans sent spies disguised as merchants to infiltrate Nagrand, testing the waters.

But these spies soon found themselves lost in an environment utterly unlike the wild plains. Before long, they had squandered all their belongings on strong liquor and gambling, returning home empty-handed and disgraced.

“That place worships an evil demon!” they ranted. “It’s full of bandits, swindlers, and thieves! Every step you take, there’s a trap waiting for you!”

“It is a wicked, honorless land!” the shamans declared, claiming their visions from the heavens had confirmed this—though that did not stop them from coveting the exquisite goods brought in from Nagrand.

“Their hearts are corrupted, turning them into mindless husks,” the chieftains proclaimed, urging their people to resist anything connected to Nagrand, while secretly reselling Nagrand’s salt at exorbitant prices to their own tribes.

Of course, there were those with keen insight who managed to uncover more details about Nagrand.

A powerful ruler.

Brutal massacres.

Mysterious sorcery.

And above all, an ominous flood of religious influence.

They watched as the weak clans around the Icy Sea were slowly consumed by the Xuanyuan Church.

They saw their own kin, once simple and honest, falling under the sway of the priests—becoming restless, questioning authority, challenging elders.

They saw chieftains, elders, and shamans—once revered figures—being edged out and stripped of their sacred power to command their people and control tribal wealth.

Even the mighty clans were beginning to unravel, their hierarchy thrown into chaos.

It was a plague. No, something worse than a plague.

A plague only takes lives. But these Nagranders, these heretics, were stealing the sacred traditions and faith that had sustained them for thousands of years. They were shaking the very foundation of power.

A consensus was quickly reached.

Nagrand and its accursed Church must be stopped. Their vile influence must not spread westward. Their corruption must not be allowed to taint this sacred land.

And so, as Nagrand focused on its own development, a loose but determined alliance of resistance was quietly forming on the Stampede Plateau to the west.

Wu Qingsong and his people remained almost entirely unaware.

The proposal for a diplomatic visit was relayed through a merchant caravan that regularly traveled between Nagrand and the Stampede Plateau.

Before long, the invitation reached the leaders of this nascent alliance.

Should they battle? Or play it safe, act?

They were well aware of the fate that had befallen the seven great clans of the Icy Sea. They were confident they were far sharper and stronger than those ignorant plains-dwellers.

But was an all-out fight really the best course?

“The chieftains and leaders of the Stampede Plateau warmly welcome your visit,” came the eventual response. “They will gather at the Dustmother Clan Clan’s stronghold to receive you.”

“And the date?” Wu Qingsong asked.

“Three months from now,” the messenger replied respectfully, hands clasped around the generous reward he had received.