The usurper was currently kneeling in the middle of the clearing.
Around him knelt the other Wildlings, their faces filled with panic and terror.
The few tents in the camp were trampled into chaos by warhorses.
Dry twigs ignited by the embers of the doused campfire sent thin wisps of blue smoke curling into the chilly air.
Ayush sat atop his horse, looking down at the fur-clad Wildlings before glancing down at Blackhand, who was whispering to his wife.
“Blackhand, deal with them.
Kill any who disobey, and bring the rest along.” “Yes, my lord.” Blackhand whispered a few more words into his wife’s ear.
After watching Grion lead her away, Blackhand walked up to the usurper.
“You stole my seat and humiliated my wife.
Taking your head is the only way to quench my rage!” Ignoring the man’s kowtows and desperate pleas for mercy, Blackhand swung his axe and chopped off the usurper’s head.
He lifted the severed head high, letting steaming blood spill onto the frozen ground, where it instantly turned into clusters of red ice.
“As for the rest of you—if you still recognize me as your chieftain, follow me!” The tribesmen below whispered among themselves.
They had no idea what this chieftain—who had vanished only to return with so many black-armored cavalrymen—intended to do.
“I have found a true powerhouse—an avatar of the Old Gods on earth!
He commands a powerful army to protect us, provides clean, warm clothes so we no longer fear the bitter winter, and offers plentiful food so we never starve again!” Hearing Blackhand’s words, the eyes of the Wildlings below lit up with hope.
“However, this does not come without a price.” Blackhand paused, gauging the reactions of the remaining Wildlings before continuing.
“We must lay down our lives for him.
We will fell timber and mine ore for him.
We must obey his command—when he orders us to fight, we fight.” “We must treat him like a king, because that is the only way to escape the miserable existence we live now.” “Now, any who refuse, step forward.” Blackhand’s voice fell, but no one stood up.
Everyone stared at him.
All forty-one remaining members of the Blackhand tribe kept their eyes fixed on their chieftain.
“Very well.
Now gather your belongings.
We’re going to find the others.” *** “Your eloquence is impressive.
To be honest, my impression of you was a bit stereotypical,” Ayush said, looking at Blackhand.
One hundred and twenty Kheshigs were split into two flanks, guarding the forty-one Wildlings of the Blackhand tribe in the middle.
“My wife praised me for that too.
When I snatched her, I whispered plenty of sweet words to her at night.” Blackhand held his head high, as though he had discovered a rare virtue in himself.
“If I had been born south of the Wall, I would have been a poet for sure.
I’ve heard of those folks—they’re all silver-tongued.” Ayush paid no mind to Blackhand’s fantasies about a past life he never had, but his mind sharply caught a keyword.
“The Wall?” “Yeah.
Those Crows come from the Wall.
The Wall blocks off all our paths south, so we can only hunt for food in this frozen hellhole.” “How tall is their wall?” “Very tall.
But it’s all made of ice.
If you want to climb over it…
well, I don’t know how long it would take, because I’ve never seen it myself.” Ayush fell silent.
He remembered the Great Bastion—that towering wall reaching into the clouds, constructed by the Dragon Emperor leading his subjects.
Long ago, before the nomadic tribes were hired by Cathay, their ancestors had also entertained thoughts of crossing the Great Bastion to raid Cathay’s heartland.
Unfortunately, their horses could not fly over those high walls, and the Cathayans easily routed them with firearms and Great Longma.
However, those were matters of Ayush’s ancestors.
Today, Ayush could slap his chest and call himself a Cathayan, walking proudly through the main gates of the wall his ancestors could never breach.
What Ayush hadn’t expected was that after arriving in this land, the first obstacle to pushing south would be yet another wall.
Seeing Ayush remain silent, Blackhand asked curiously, “Why do you ask?” “Nothing.
Lead the way.
This handful of people isn’t enough; we need to pick up the pace.” At Ayush’s urging, Blackhand spurred his horse to the front of the column.
Under his guidance, sixty Kheshigs broke off from the main force, riding ahead toward the next Wildling village.
*** Ayush felt that Blackhand was a natural-born nomad.
After raiding his own tribe once, the man seemed to instinctively unlock the knack for pillaging and burning villages.
Their next target was a Wildling settlement—called a village because several wooden houses stood in a forest clearing.
Compared to the Blackhand tribe, who slept in snow pits and tents, this was far more civilized.
Right now, however, those houses were ablaze.
People panicked amidst the flames, and several corpses lay at the entrance of the village—it was clear the Wildlings here had not welcomed their arrival.
Ayush didn’t know if Blackhand had tried reasoning with them first, but looking at the current situation, violence had become the only option.
This village yielded ninety-six Wildlings, twenty-six of whom were young men.
With new members joining the column, their progress slowed somewhat.
Ayush watched as the line expanded like a greedy giant serpent, swallowing up Wildling settlements one after another.
Finally, after a full week, their column grew into a massive monster.
One hundred and twenty Kheshigs, along with the men of the Blackhand tribe, escorted nearly a thousand Wildlings back to Zhenbei City.
Their supplies had run out the day before, forcing them to trudge through a snowstorm for another full day.
A few Wildlings attempted to escape under cover of the blizzard, but the Kheshigs dragged them right back.
Punishment awaited them, though not just yet.
The heavy gates of Zhenbei City opened slowly, and the starving Wildlings shuffled into the city of stone.
The houses Shen Mo had ordered built proved their worth.
Soon, soldiers arrived with food.
The thousand-plus Wildlings were divided into two groups: the men were taken outside the city, while the women, children, and elderly remained inside.
Everyone crammed food into their mouths ravenously.
Many scalded their tongues, yet none stopped eating.
The delicious food made many feel that their previous lives had been lived in vain.
The tense atmosphere eased over the warm meal.
The Wildlings began to converse, talking about what lay ahead for them.
Blackhand hadn’t lied or killed indiscriminately; he had laid out the terms clearly from the start.
And now, many had begun to believe his words.