Arthur's generous rewards promised earlier in the camp now played their most direct and brutal role.
A Burning Men Tribe warrior, wielding a spiked club, had just hammered down a Plainsmen soldier who charged too quickly.
Before he could even catch his breath, three more Plainsmen soldiers immediately lunged at him, their eyes bloodshot.
The long spears, longswords, and short axes in their hands stabbed, chopped, and swung at his body without hesitation.
The Burning Men Tribe warrior bravely parried the longsword that a Plainsmen swung at him.
But then he was pierced through the lower abdomen by another long spear, letting out a scream, his movements stalling.
The third soldier's short axe had already fiercely struck his neck.
The short axe couldn't decapitate him; it got stuck between his neck and blood spurted out.
The soldier who struck his neck shouted excitedly, "I hit him! I hit him! I killed a savage!"
He was immediately pushed aside by companions rushing up from behind, and more people surged towards the next target.
The seven savage raiders were instantly overwhelmed by the bloodthirsty, frenzied, and greedy soldiers.
They might be strong in close-quarters combat, but in a situation where seven people were besieged by nearly twenty times their number of enemies, who disregarded their own lives.
They could only futilely swing their weapons, and then be stabbed, chopped, and struck again and again.
These Burning Men Tribe savages completely didn't understand why these Plainsmen, who had always been weak and cowardly, suddenly became so crazy, so bloodthirsty!
Arthur ignored the chaotic battle over there.
High Mountain Clan savages also called themselves Freemen.
However, their freedom meant year after year, day after day, raiding and slaughtering the Plainsmen.
They dared not confront those who wore iron armor or rode tall horses.
But they targeted those Plainsmen who barely sustained their lives by farming the land.
Destroying their crops, burning their villages, and taking their wives, children, and property.
They were accustomed to hiding in forests and mountain passes to launch surprise attacks, turning defenseless civilians into casualties under their blades.
Their swords only knew the necks of the weak.
Yet, when others repaid them in kind, they suddenly remembered insidious and shameless accusations.
His attention was entirely focused on the last enemy, the one hidden the deepest.
He wanted to give the High Mountain Clan's Burning Men Tribe the deepest despair!
A dark figure suddenly darted out from a flat area that looked no different from the surrounding plains.
Like a predatory shadow lynx, silent yet incredibly swift!
Nanges Son Val! The most outstanding animal ambush hunter in the High Mountain Clan!
Negos Son Walker's plan was simple: whether it was his tormented companions in the granary, or himself and his seven companions.
All were part of the plan, all were sacrifices!
They were bait to attract the soldiers around Arthur, and he was the true killing blow!
Nanges Son Val lay in ambush here, waiting for the moment when the Plainsmen soldiers' attention was drawn away.
This was the instant when the Plainsmen commander's attention was diverted, to deliver a fatal blow!
Nanges Son Val was extremely fast, clutching a short sword tightly in his hand.
Like countless times before when ambushing prey, he thrust directly at the throat of Arthur, who was riding a white horse!
He even felt he could immediately see the astonishment on Arthur's face.
Success!
However, the next moment, the wild joy in Val's eyes froze.
He did not see astonishment on the young man's face.
He saw—a hint of a mocking smile.
A flash of sword light, a cold gleam blinked out, incredibly fast, in an instant!
"Whoosh!" The sound of a blade leaving its scabbard.
Nanges Son Val felt a great force land on his arm.
His severed arm and the short sword flew out together.
"Ah—!" Nanges Son Val let out a wailing cry.
His right arm, which held the short sword, was cleanly severed from the shoulder! Blood gushed out like a fountain!
Arthur shook the blood from his sword, his face expressionless.
But he made no further move.
Nanges Son Val's movements were very slow in his eyes.
"Ho—ho—" The severe pain almost made Nanges Son Val faint.
But he forced himself to bite his tongue, and the intense sting made him clear-headed for a moment.
With his remaining left hand, he pulled out a small beast-bone dagger from his waist.
With a glint of madness and despair in his eyes, he roared like a trapped beast and lunged at Arthur again!
"Die for me, Plainsmen!"
Arthur didn't even retreat, merely flicking his wrist.
A cold light flashed, a white gleam passed through Nanges Son Val's eyes.
Nanges Son Val's forward momentum abruptly stopped; his head flew high, his face still frozen in a ferocious expression.
In an instant, countless images flashed through Nanges Son Val's mind: only daring to cauterize his own right pinky toe when he came of age.
The mockery of his tribesmen, and the disappointed looks of his parents.
He had always yearned to prove himself, to become a true warrior.
He also wanted to cauterize his own eyes, his own ears.
But every time he picked up the red-hot iron tool, his body's instinct, fear, would make him shrink back.
But he longed for recognition, so he honed his hunting skills every day.
He could hide in the snow for a day and a night without moving to ambush prey.
None of his tribesmen could do that!
But no matter how much prey he hunted, or how dangerous the prey was.
His father, mother, and tribesmen still looked down on him; they believed that only those who plundered the Plainsmen and took their wives and daughters were truly brave.
But he didn't understand why he had to rob the Plainsmen who tilled the land?
They were just working the land, exchanging sweat for harvests, building houses to withstand the wind and snow.
They threatened no one, provoked no one. They just—lived there.
They dug food from the barren land with their bare hands, just like he hid in the heavy snow for a day and a night.
Why rob them for that kind of hard existence?
Finally, he thought, perhaps, now, he had become the warrior his tribesmen and parents spoke of.
But, he no longer wanted to be a warrior; he wanted to return to High Mountain.
To live alone, to hunt alone.
To leave the tribe and become a true Freeman.
But now everything was over.
His body staggered forward three steps before collapsing weakly.
At the same time, the shouts of battle from the direction of the farmstead began to gradually subside.
Negos Son Walker, now covered in blood, looked in Arthur's direction with disbelief.
He had completely not expected, and had never even thought in this direction.
This young man, who looked young and would be the weakest in his tribe in terms of physique.
Was actually so strong, so fast, that in an instant, it was declared over.
If he had been unprepared, he might also have been wounded by that sword strike!
It wasn't Nanges Son Val who was ambushing prey on this battlefield.
It was this Plainsmen!
Those Plainsmen soldiers, like madmen, even pushed each other to snatch the bodies of their tribesmen.
A hint of sorrow for his tribesmen flashed in Negos Son Walker's eyes, immediately replaced by endless rage.
"Kill!" "Kill!" "Kill!"
He let out a beast-like roar, raising the battle-axe in his hand, and with the few remaining tribesmen beside him, launched a desperate charge towards Arthur!
They were wolves of High Mountain; they would rather die in battle than surrender!
Arthur watched them charge with indifference.
Lucien had already led the soldiers to outflank them from the direction of the farmstead, joining the soldiers around Arthur.
"Form ranks!" "Spearmen, form ranks!" "Protect Lord Arthur!" Lucien raised his blood-stained right hand, clenched into a fist, and loudly gave the order.
The soldiers quickly formed several rows, standing in front of Arthur, the spear formation standing like an indestructible wall.
Negos Son Walker saw that the young Plainsmen even began to calmly wipe his longsword.
His gaze was fixed on his sword, as if there was nothing else noteworthy on the battlefield.
The Burning Men Tribe savages were brave and fearless, each fighting three, undaunted by death.
However, they faced a group of "bloody mad dogs" whose ferocity had been thoroughly ignited by ambition, greed, and desire!
A Burning Men Tribe savage had just smashed a soldier's head with a hammer, and immediately two long spears pierced his body from the lower abdomen.
He roared, wanting to break the spear shafts, and still wanted to counterattack, but an arrow had already fiercely shot into his eye, piercing through!
Negos Son Walker vigorously swung his battle-axe, but his tribesmen beside him fell one after another.
He saw a young tribesman tackled to the ground by three or four Plainsmen soldiers; the Plainsmen soldiers fought over his corpse, eventually dismembering it.
He saw a tribesman bite a soldier's arm with his teeth, only to have another soldier cleave the back of his head with a short axe from behind.
At this moment, Negos Son Walker suddenly understood.
They were indeed wolves of High Mountain, fierce and strong.
But these Plainsmen, these guys they regarded as sheep.
Were also a group of Plainsmen hunting dogs, fearless of death and numerous!
No matter how fierce the wolves of High Mountain were, they couldn't contend with a pack of hunting dogs.
"Pfft!"
A longsword pierced his chest from behind.
Negos Son Walker painfully lowered his head, looking at the sword tip that emerged from his chest.
He felt his strength rapidly draining, his body growing colder and colder.
Countless Plainsmen soldiers surged forward, overwhelming his last field of vision.
He felt himself being pressed down by countless people.
Their weapons constantly chopped and cut at his body.
He didn't know what meaning their actions had.
Until he heard it.
The last words he heard while conscious.
"I got the head! Tommen got the head!"
The voice was filled with ecstasy.