Chapter 227

“Ying! Aoo-aoo!!”

At last, Xiong Han—waiting outside Sanghuo—heard the signal horns for the agreed attack.

In an instant she transformed into her giant panda beast form and charged forward. Behind her, two hundred horned beastman warriors likewise shifted into beast form, thundering after her.

One-eye had just reached the tribe’s entrance when he saw, on the distant hillside, a black-and-white army of giant pandas roaring as they rushed down.

“It’s the Zhanxiong tribe! To arms! To arms!!”

At first, One-eye didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation. He assumed Zhanxiong must have gone mad from winter starvation to launch such a suicidal attack on Sanghuo.

No need to alarm the honored guest in their camp, he thought. The warriors stationed at the gate alone should be enough to deal with a Zhanxiong charge.

But then his confidence wavered.

Despite his loud shouting, the surrounding tents remained silent. Only a few beastmen stumbled out, bleary-eyed from sleep.

“Where is everyone!!”

Snarling, One-eye stormed to the nearest tent and ripped open its hide flap.

The stench of blood hit him like a wave. Inside—not a single living soul. No wonder no one answered his calls.

His mind roared with confusion. Staggering back, he suddenly lunged for another nearby tent, trembling as he pulled back the flap.

The same silence. The same blood reek.

The realization hit: most of Sanghuo’s warriors had already been assassinated.

One-eye’s legs nearly gave out as he stumbled back outside. Just then, reinforcements from within finally gathered at the entrance—but One-eye’s heart sank at a glance.

Even though their chieftain and elders had taken much of Sanghuo’s strength out on campaign, the tribe’s sheer numbers should have left at least two thousand fighters at home.

Now, less than half that stood assembled.

A chill gnawed down One-eye’s spine. Could it be? Had the rest of Sanghuo’s warriors truly all been slaughtered?

Impossible. No beastmen could achieve this. Certainly not Zhanxiong.

Desperate, One-eye seized a seventeen-year-old youth.

“Hou Pei! Where is Elder Hou Pei!?”

Hou Pei—the Sang Meng chieftain, elder of Sanghuo, their strongest force remaining.

“Hou!”

A roar thundered behind them.

The crowd parted in awe as a massive golden-furred ape strode forth from the tribe’s heart.

Nearly five meters tall, muscles shaped in a dramatic inverted triangle, limbs dense and heavy like hammered metal—each step rang out with a metallic crash.

If Qi Bai were here, he’d have been stunned by this King-Kong-like giant.

Likely roused from sleep, Hou Pei’s temper was black. Each breath snorted white steam, each step smashed aside tents crowding the narrow paths.

But One-eye, seeing Hou Pei, felt elation instead of fear.

For a moment he’d worried Hou Pei was dead too. And though he despised these Sang Meng monkeys, he had to admit: so long as Hou Pei stood, Sanghuo would not fall.

It was only Zhanxiong—they would be crushed!

The other Sanghuo warriors, too, rallied at the sight of the golden giant. They shifted into beast form and charged roaring toward the pandas.

From all around, ordinary Sanghuo beastmen, woken by the commotion, poured from their tents to watch.

Few understood why so few of their warriors were present. But battle was their way of life. This was only the first time the enemy had come to them, instead of the reverse.

Still, many whispered, puzzled by the strange “wuu~ wuu~” horn call they’d heard earlier. It wasn’t quite a beast’s howl—what was it? Whatever it was, they resolved to hunt it down.

Amid this confusion, the Heishan scouts who had blown the horns quietly withdrew, regrouping with the Julu warriors to the west.

Lu Teng blinked as Lang Ze and Wolf Ji casually tossed two unconscious captives onto the ground. They even brought two out with them?

“Huán Ping,” Lang Ze called.

“Here!” The honey badger warrior stepped forward.

Lang Ze dropped the remaining wu grass at his feet.

“Watch these two. If you lose them, don’t bother coming back to the tribe.”

At first Huán Ping bristled—was this not a waste of his strength? His beast form, a honey badger, was famed for its resilience; he was among Heishan’s strongest. Surely he belonged on the battlefield.

But hearing the consequence, he understood. Guarding these two must be more vital than fighting.

He straightened at once. “I will not fail!”

The rest of Heishan’s warriors turned their eager eyes to Lang Ze.

Silent assassinations were thrilling, but not bloody enough. They longed for direct battle, close combat!

Even the usually peaceable Julu warriors, swept up in the energy, felt fighting spirit blaze in their hearts.

“Wuu~ Wuu~”

Again the puzzling horns sounded. But this time, not from within Sanghuo, but from the western hills.

“Wuu~ Wuu~”

And like an echoing chorus, the same horns rang from the north and east.

As the horns blared, three forces converged upon Sanghuo’s camp like surging rivers.

Hou Pei, leading his warriors into the fray, also heard it. A prickle of danger ran through him. His hesitation fanned his fury further.

He reared upright, pounding his chest with thunderous blows. His gaping maw bellowed reeking breath:

“Hou!! ATTACK!!”

Apes, boars, rock-pythons—Sanghuo still had over a thousand fighters. And the pandas of Zhanxiong were fewer still.

Yet not one panda faltered.

“Ying-ao!” they roared. Beastmen never retreat!

Claws sharp, limbs thick, hides tough—giant pandas, born for war. Their beast form alone placed them among the deadliest.

But that was not all.

At the front, Xiong Qi grappled a rock python as thick as half a man’s height. Finding no neck, he simply bit wherever he could.

Crunch!

The serpent’s stone armor, once its pride, crumbled like clay.

Pandas—called “iron-eaters”—could bite through metal. Against that, stone meant nothing.

The python thrashed, jaws wide, squeezing, then loosening as strength failed.

But Xiong Qi’s iron claws pinned it fast.

“Ying!”

He spat grit in disgust, grimaced, and bit again.

When the serpent finally went limp and reverted to human form, Xiong Qi dropped the body and scanned for apes and boars to fight next.

Two years of pent-up fury burst free. The pandas fought like demons, forcing Sanghuo to a stalemate despite their numbers.

Still, Sanghuo’s advantage remained: superior numbers, and Hou Pei raging at the center.

At this rate, attrition alone would kill the pandas.

Baffled, One-eye could not understand. The pandas fought as if ready to die, never retreating. Why? What gain was there in throwing their lives away?

At the battle’s heart, Xiong Han led two warriors in assaulting Hou Pei.

But this ape was nothing like the rest. His hide was like hardened bone. Wounds came slow, and with brute power alone he tossed pandas aside.

Xiong Han remembered him weaker before. What had changed?

As she began to falter, reinforcements surged from the western hills.

Every panda’s spirit surged. Heishan’s warriors had arrived. Each one was worth ten ordinary beastmen!

Energy flooded their limbs. Xiong Han rose, flung a boar assailant aside.

“Hou-hou~!”

Xiong Feng’s roar sent boars stumbling back.

Xiong Qi couldn’t help glancing at him enviously. That brown bear roar though…

And more beast forms came: wolves, yaks, rhinos, capybaras, swift steeds. Their arrival tipped the battle.

At the edge stood the great white wolf, eyes like blades of deep blue, locked on Hou Pei.

Meeting that gaze, Hou Pei’s chaotic mind cleared.

Where were the rest of Sanghuo’s warriors? The near-adults? Even the slaves? Why had none come?

He would never know.

The white wolf growled, then leapt like lightning.

Xiong Han opened her mouth to warn him—Hou Pei’s hide was like iron—but in the next instant: Crack!

The wolf’s fangs pierced the ape’s throat.

“Ying~”

Xiong Han tilted her head, black-ringed eyes full of disbelief.

By the Beast God! That unbreakable bone hide—snapped like nothing?!

The battle was over far quicker, far easier than anyone expected.

Xiong Han still reeled, shaken by the gap. She had struggled half the fight against Hou Pei, yet Lang Ze ended him in moments.

She was no weakling—she had once fought the great Xushan chieftain to a draw! How could Lang Ze, only just into adulthood, already wield such strength?

Heishan’s warriors weren’t surprised. They were used to his prowess. But they too were frustrated: these Sanghuo fighters were weaker than those they’d faced at Heishan.

The hand crossbows Qi Bai had made them, the painstaking arrows—they hadn’t even needed them.

Even Yun Jing, tasked with internal control, found it anticlimactic. Yungu warriors never reached the front—by the time they moved, it was already over.

At least Julu had their share of glory, keeping thousands of slaves penned without a single riot.

But regardless of feelings, the truth dawned on all three allied leaders—Xiong Han, Yun Jing, Lu Teng.

Sanghuo, once the terror of the north, building a city within two years—was gone.

And Heishan had sent only one hundred fifty warriors.

Even with the three tribes beside them, they all knew—they’d been nothing but auxiliaries.

Forced march, ingenious tactics, crushing strength… They realized that even without them, Heishan alone could have destroyed Sanghuo.

If Heishan turned on their tribes, could they resist?

The answer chilled them: no.

Silently, they reached the same vow—never, ever make an enemy of Heishan.

Their eyes turned to Lang Ze, who listened calmly to Wolf Ji and Qiu Bai describe Sanghuo’s leaders. Each one had to be checked and accounted for.

Just then, Hu Qiao emerged from the envoy’s tent, holding something.

Lang Ze had told him to search carefully. He’d indeed found something.

Puzzled, Hu Qiao handed it over.

“Lang Ze, isn’t this Bao Bai’s dagger? Did you drop it in there?”