Chapter 329

The flag-bearer Zhu Ya raised his arm angrily. This man was already a defeated general under Hei Yao, and yet he still dared to make demands!

Qi Bai, however, was somewhat interested in Cang Xie’s strength—after all, since the battle began, Cang Xie himself had never struck a blow.

Qi Bai said:
“Chief Cang Xie, as a defeated leader, you are not qualified to fight the Lord of Hei Yao.”

“Ying-Ao!”

Xiong Han slammed her front paw heavily against the ground. She was willing to fight for her City Lord and show this alien beastman from Yi Di the might of Hei Yao’s warriors.

Cang Xie hadn’t issued the challenge to prove his own strength anyway, so he didn’t care who faced him. But this war bear’s appearance was unusual, and he wondered what strange things Hei Yao City possessed.

But now, Cang Xie had no choice. He glanced at Cang Xi and the others beside him. This was his last chance—he could not let it slip.

Cang Xie looked toward Qi Bai.
“If I win, then spare the sub-beastmen and cubs of my tribe.”

Qi Bai chuckled lightly.
“Agreed.”

Far in the distance, heavy clouds pressed down as if to crush the sky.

On the bloodstained battlefield, a beam of dark light split down from mid-air, dropping like a rust-colored curtain between heaven and earth.

Within that curtain, the war bear and the Cang Quan dog crouched low, issuing deep growls of threat from their throats.

Very quickly, the two in the arena moved.

Zhu Ya held his breath.
“They’re coming!”

At the center, Cang Xie suddenly lunged toward Xiong Han. In the instant he neared her, the Cang Quan leapt, swinging sharp claws midair.

Even Zhu Ya and Niu Yan, dozens of meters away, heard the sound of claws tearing the air—such was its ferocity.

Faced with his fierce assault, Xiong Han stood as steady as a mountain—intent on receiving the blow head-on.

Niu Yan exclaimed:
“Dangerous!”

The next instant—Cang Quan’s claws met the war bear.

Clang!!

A violent metallic crash resounded. But the feared outcome did not occur. Instead, it was Cang Xie—the attacker—who staggered back first.

That strike had been only a test. Agile as he was, he’d never intended to clash head-on with a war bear. Yet even this probing blow shocked him.

He could hardly believe he had struck a beastman. It felt as though he had slammed into something harder than rock. Even now, his claws still throbbed with pain from the impact, nearly torn apart by the force. Had he not adjusted his body in time, he might have been blasted back by the hardness of the war bear’s armor.

Zhu Ya gripped Niu Yan, his voice trembling with excitement:
“Did you see? Did you see? General Xiong Han is wearing Hei Yao’s war armor!”

By the Beast God! This war armor was magnificent. Finally, he could witness it in battle.

Niu Yan had not understood Zhu Ya’s excitement earlier. Not only Zhu Ya—even the young horned beastmen nearby, who seemed barely adults—their eyes shone with feverish excitement.

Niu Yan had, of course, noticed the strange garments Hei Yao warriors wore, and thought Xiong Han’s “clothing” was just another odd costume. He never imagined it was actual armor—armor with such astonishing defense.

With this armor, perhaps not even Hei Yao’s own ballistae or catapults could pierce it.

Looking again at Hei Yao’s warriors on the field, Niu Yan no longer saw beastmen, but towering, unassailable mountains.

If Zhu Ya or Bao Yue heard his thoughts, they would’ve jumped up praising him for sharp insight.

For what Xiong Han wore was no ordinary clothing.

A steel helm that sealed the neck, scales of metal plates forming armor and gauntlets—this was the war armor specially crafted by the Great Priest for Hei Yao’s champions.

But due to the difficulty of forging, and the great differences in beast forms, there were only five such sets in the entire city—worn by the five great generals.

Yet all the warriors clenched their fists silently. One day, they too would forge armor of their own.

Cang Xi clutched the necklace at her throat. She had seen the iron arrowheads Cang Xie had brought back before. Now she recognized it—the war bear’s entire armor was forged of that same material.

Her heart twisted. She knew that metal could shatter stone with ease. No beastman’s strength could possibly break it.

As if to confirm her fears, Cang Xie roared and charged again. When Xiong Han swung to strike, he snapped at her arm, tearing with his fangs.

But his proud teeth and claws left only shallow marks on the armor. Not only could he not pierce it—he nearly injured himself from the rebound.

“Ying-ao!”

Seeing him retreat again, Xiong Han clawed at the ground and surged forward. The plates on her armor rippled like water as she ran—yet the weight did not slow her at all.

Bao Yue’s eyes brimmed with admiration. She knew well how heavy the armor was—only a true warrior could wear it. She vowed to train harder. One day, she too would stand like General Xiong Han.

Cang Xie observed carefully. The armor did not cover the bear entirely. The exposed spots—beneath the neck, inner limbs—were hard-to-hit places, but still weaknesses. Unless…

He crouched low, decision made.

When Xiong Han charged close, he suddenly accelerated, aiming for the vulnerable patch beneath her neck.

But she anticipated it. Meeting his rush, she slammed her paw straight into him.

The full-force strike sent him flying back more than ten meters before he staggered to a stop.

Now, the Cang Quan was scarred and battered. He had barely brushed the war bear’s fur. While Xiong Han steamed with heat, her fighting spirit soared ever higher.

Qi Bai watched calmly. He had already judged—the outcome was decided.

In pure skill, Cang Xie was not weaker than Xiong Han. Perhaps, he was even stronger—closer to becoming a Tier Two warrior. If it were the past, his harassment tactics would wear her down until she bled out her strength.

But now, with her armor removing any fear of wounds, offense and defense reversed. In raw strength, no Cang Quan could rival a war bear.

Equipment was part of strength. Cang Xie had lost the possibility of victory.

Boom!

Xiong Han lunged, slamming him hard to the ground.

“Xie!” Cang Dun roared.

Lang Ze said coolly to Xiong Han:
“Release him.”

She bared her teeth at the Cang Quan tribe, then stepped back swaggering, returning to the front lines.

Feeling the warriors’ admiring gazes, Xiong Han secretly shook her armor, her short tail wagging unconsciously.

Since adulthood, she had always been the strongest of her tribe. But never had she fought so joyfully.

Even she hadn’t realized how powerful this armor was. Now, she felt invincible. Against ten more Cang Xie, she would still prevail.

Cang Xie shifted back into human form.
“I lost.”

Lang Ze looked at his battered, defiant face.
“You lost. The sub-beastmen and cubs of your tribe—you may not take them.”

Cang Xie clenched his jaw.

It was his fault—for ignoring the ancestral decree that the Cang Quan must never tread south into Yi Di. His mistake had doomed them all.

“But you may leave.”

Cang Xie jerked his head up, incredulous.

“You may also take your Cang Quan warriors with you,” Lang Ze said evenly. “But know this—Bei Huang’s tribes are now under Hei Yao’s protection. If you ever raid them again…” His tone was flat, not as if discussing survival, but inevitability. “…I will make all Cang Quan pay the price.”

“City Lord of Hei Yao,” Cang Xie forced through clenched teeth, “you spare me today, but I will not thank you. I will not give up. I will save my people.”

Lang Ze turned coldly.
“Then we shall see your ability.”

Cang Xie rose, his eyes lingering on Cang Xi, separated by Hei Yao’s warriors.

He said nothing, yet his silence carried a thousand unspoken words.

Tears welled in Cang Xi’s eyes. How she wished to cry: Brother, leave. Take who you can, return beyond the frontier. Forget us…

But she could not say it. Not to him. Not in front of those warriors following him step for step with unshaken resolve.

She was their shaman. She could not extinguish their spirit.

Above, a woman’s voice rose—an elegy of blessing from the Cang Quan shaman to departing warriors.

Wherever Cang Xie passed, surrendered Le Li silently parted to give him way.

He was once their chief. He had once raided many of their tribes. Yet none could deny—following him, they had left barren Yi Di, had become the dreaded Le Li who terrorized Hun Rong and Bei Huang.

Now he had lost. The Le Li would cease to exist. And they—like rootless duckweed—what fate awaited them?

Hu Xiao wrinkled his nose at their retreating backs, finally blurting:
“Great Priest, why let them go, after all the trouble to capture them?”

In the beastmen’s world, stealing was forbidden—but raiding was “proper.” Though all hated the Cang Quan, most of that hatred was simply that they themselves could not beat Le Li.

From Hu Xiao’s view, the Cang Quan, for all their chaos, had never enslaved others. They had even taken in all comers. In a way, that was mercy.

Why not just kill arrogant Cang Xie, then bring the rest back to herd cattle and sheep?

Qi Bai glanced at Lang Lin and Shu You, ears perked beside him. Instead of answering, he left a riddle:
“You’ll see, in time.”

“Enough about them,” Qi Bai clapped his hands. “Time to work.”

Excluding the three hundred Cang Quan who left with Cang Xie, and the battlefield dead, about twenty thousand horned beastmen over fifteen remained, plus another ten thousand sub-beastmen and cubs.

Escorting thirty thousand back to Bei Zhou—this was no small problem.

The only blessing: Le Li’s stores still held ample food and supplies. If rationed carefully, it would last until home.

Qi Bai divided the thirty thousand into five groups.

The ten thousand sub-beastmen and cubs under fifteen went directly to Lang Ji’s corps.

Unlike the other generals’ purely combat units, Lang Ji’s forces included all the special detachments:

• the ballista and catapult corps,

• a wagon train of hundreds of carts,

• the craftsmen who forged tools,

• and even a cooking corps of two hundred adolescent beastmen.

That explained why Zhu Ya often hovered around Niu Yan, bragging about Hei Yao—it was all pent-up frustration. They had fought their way here, only to be stuck holding ladles instead of weapons.

So the promise of commanding “four squads” had turned out to mean four squads’ worth of meals.

Still—distributing the sub-beastmen here made sense. They could help the craftsmen make tools. As beast-shape carriers with baskets, they’d shorten the column and speed the march.

The remaining twenty thousand horned beastmen were split into four units of five thousand, under Lang Ze, Niu Shuo, and Xiong Han.

Lang Ze led one personally, since Yun Jing and Lang Zhan had other tasks.

Meanwhile, Diao Lan stuffed tiger cubs into vine baskets.

Qi Bai crouched.
“Sure no companions are missing?”

The little girl shook her head.
“No. Since we came here, I’ve watched my brothers and sisters closely. We’ve never been apart.”

Qi Bai stroked her hair.
“You’ve done well. Go now.”

The girl blinked up.
“Big brother, will you really send us back to our tribe?”

Hu Xiao interjected:
“Not big brother. Great Priest.”

These tiger cubs were those stolen from the Xu Shan tribe.

Now Qi Bai understood why Cang Xie had always seized cubs and sub-beastmen. He was trying, crudely, to multiply his Cang Quan.

The girl nodded.
“I’ll remember.”

She transformed into a fuzzy tiger cub, bouncing into Diao Lan’s basket.

Outside, Lang Ze asked:
“You know what to tell the Xu Shan?”

Yun Jing thumped her chest.
“All prepared, City Lord. Don’t worry.”

Taking the baskets, she counted the cubs, hung them up, and led a team toward Hun Rong.

Chen Shui lay at the border of Hun Rong and Bei Huang. In five days they’d return.

For the main force left at Chen Shui, time was pressing.

Hu Bu drove his people to build carts: chopping wood, fitting boards, attaching Hei Yao’s wheels—two hundred wagons produced.

He also oversaw cruder solid-wheel carts—quick, rough, liable to break, but salvageable as firewood later.

Diao Lan had sub-beastmen sewing traveling gear: dismantling every Le Li tent, every beast hide in storage, into crude fur clothing.

Two hides per person—one square for the upper body, hole cut for the neck; one rectangle for the lower, belted with hide straps. Done in less than twenty minutes.

At first, Le Li sub-beastmen flinched at ruining good hides. But after a day of cutting, they became numb “hide killers.”

The scraps were woven into straw sandals.

Lang Ze himself oversaw the battlefield cleanup. Arrows were recovered, broken ones burned with corpses.

Nearly two thousand beasts lay slain—their meat enough to feed Hei Yao a month. Bones hauled where possible, the rest boiled into broth, shared with surrendered Le Li alike.

Cang Dun watched bitterly as their beasts—raised for years—became others’ food.

Cang Yi held him back, glancing at Cang Xie.

But Cang Xie only searched the laboring crowd until he found Cang Xi and Cang Chi. They worked like all the rest—labored, but not abused.

That night, as darkness fell, the three of them crept from hiding back to camp.

In the valley, bonfires burned, roasting sheep.

The mood was heavy. The Cang Quan, with their divine voice power, had long survived the harsh outer-lands. But now, even sitting by a fire with meat—it felt distant, forgotten.

“Hei Yao is waiting for the team that left days ago. When they return, they’ll march.”

Winter migration—something Cang Quan had never known. Yet none doubted Cang Xie’s words. With half the camp dismantled, Hei Yao clearly planned to move.

“Xie, what shall we do?”

“When they leave Chen Shui, entering Bei Huang—when they are most relaxed.”

By the time Yun Jing returned, the once-great Le Li tribe was gone. Snow and wind would soon cover the mud, and even Hun Rong and Bei Huang might forget the terror that once was.

That day, the army broke camp.

Each thousand formed a square, one after another, stretching along the rugged roads of the beastmen’s world—like a dragon with no end.

Hei Yao warriors guarded the flanks, scouts relaying signals. The pace was steady, if not fast.

Of course, with such a massive host, disorder was inevitable.