While Di'an City was bathed in gentle spring rain, ink-black clouds that refused to scatter shrouded the horizon of the Northern Border.
Across the vast, boundless earth, the northern realm was locked in ice, with snow drifting for tens of thousands of li.
Violent gales laced with snowflakes swept down relentlessly from the sky. It was so gloomy that night could not be told from day, nor east from west; visibility was reduced to nothing beneath the howling blizzard.
Beneath the vast expanse of sky, one could hear only the wind raging like wailing ghosts and weeping wolves, alongside the sounds of slaughter muffled beneath the drifts of snow.
This was a makeshift encampment hastily thrown together by the Black Scale Guards. Etched into the palisade were crude formations carved by the army's formation masters, but these formation runes had already been shattered, and massive black shadows continually leaped over the walls to raid the interior.
The entire camp seemed utterly fragile amidst the storm.
Shouts of slaughter, the clatter of clashing steel, and the crisp twang of crossbow strings rang out.
Countless corpses of barbarians and humans lay buried beneath the snow.
Flames flickered throughout the camp, the once-fierce combat slowly cooling as time trickled by.
Meanwhile, atop a high ridge outside the camp, several figures as towering as iron pagodas loomed faintly through the driving snow, looking down coldly at the human encampment below with eyes like ice.
An unknown amount of time passed.
*Snap—*
A massive foot clad in a thick layer of horn-like keratin stepped into the snow, crushing an object buried beneath it with a sharp crack.
The sound drew the gazes of the towering figures stationed on the ridge, the bloody glint in their eyes appearing sinister amidst the blizzard.
The newcomer was a barbarian, his ten-foot-tall, burly frame soaked in blood, many of the bone spurs jutting from his body snapped.
Upon seeing these towering figures, the barbarian placed his right hand over his chest and knelt in barbarian salute, his deep vocal cords producing a guttural tongue that did not belong to Great Yan:
"My King, Wuyuan is not within the camp. Please punish me, Your Majesty."
As his words fell, none of the towering figures spoke. Their deep blue gazes stared quietly at the newcomer.
Amidst the bleak rush of the wind, a voice sounded slowly from behind the towering figures.
The Barbarian Heterodox King stared down at the camp, which had already fallen completely silent.
"As expected. Guchen, completely wiping out a regiment under Wuyuan was no easy feat. Rise."
Hearing this, the barbarian named Guchen did not rise, remaining on his knees.
The Barbarian Heterodox King turned around slowly and fixed his gaze on Guchen.
"It seems you still have something to say?"
Guchen took a deep breath, the knuckles of his clenched fists popping as he spoke quickly in a low voice:
"Your Majesty, were it not for this blizzard, even with only five thousand men in that camp, my forces would have struggled to breach it. In the battle of Mount Dali, we lost forty thousand kin before barely managing to pull back. Now, the Yan Dynasty's Marquis Wucheng has returned to Beifeng City and could march into the Northern Border at any moment. I implore Your Majesty to reconsider."
The wind raged through the snowy night like howling ghosts, and silence fell over the ridge.
Great Yan's Marquis Wucheng was a nightmare hanging over the Sacred Race. The renown he had built over decades was piled atop the corpses of countless Sacred Race people.
He was an insurmountable foe.
Now that the Yan Dynasty had gathered an army boasting a million elites at the northern border, the best option was to use the heavy snowfall to make a swift retreat deep into the Northern Border and lie low.
If they kept fighting, the entire Sacred Race would face the threat of annihilation.
After a prolonged silence, the Barbarian Heterodox King did not answer Guchen's plea directly:
"Keep whatever meat was taken for your own tribe. Hand the spirit blades and weaponry over to the High Priest; when you deliver them, you may requisition a thousand Sacred Armaments from him. Rise."
His voice carried a resolute authority that brooked no argument.
Guchen said nothing more. Exhaling a puff of white mist, he slowly stood and bowed.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
The wind blew on as before. The Barbarian Heterodox King stared down at the camp below, showing no intention of speaking further.
Guchen glanced at the King's back and suddenly spoke up:
"Your Majesty, during this assault, we captured some living prisoners. Would you like to inspect them?"
The Barbarian Heterodox King's aloof voice came back:
"Is there anyone of value among them?"
"One of Wuyuan's confidants."
"Wuyuan?"
The Barbarian Heterodox King looked down at the severed bone spur on his arm, a thick streak of murderous intent flashing through his eyes. "Step down for now. I will go take a look."
Guchen said nothing more, bowed, and departed, his towering silhouette disappearing into the snowy night in an instant.
Minutes and seconds ticked away. After roughly the time it took to drink a cup of tea, one of the towering figures behind the Barbarian Heterodox King suddenly spoke in a muffled, resonant voice:
"Your Majesty, morale within the Sacred Race is wavering right now. Are we truly not retreating?"
"..."
The Barbarian Heterodox King slowly sat cross-legged beside the cliff of the ridge, exhaling a breath of turbid air that dissipated into white mist.
"Zhaye, you believe we should retreat?"
The towering barbarian named Zhaye fell silent.
The Barbarian Heterodox King's keratin-covered cheeks seemed to curl into a faint smile as he glanced around at the other towering barbarians.
"Speak your minds. We are brothers who grew up together; if there's something on your minds, speak freely."
Zhaye remained silent for a moment, glanced in the direction Guchen had departed, and said in a low voice:
"This war with Great Yan has lasted for four years already. Many tribes are exhausted. The spoils we have gathered are enough to sustain us in our ancestral lands for more than a decade of recuperation, and the human artisans captured along the way will allow us to prepare far better for when the next war begins."
"Far better prepared?"
The Barbarian Heterodox King shook his head with deep helplessness. "What counts as being better prepared? More kin? More Sacred Armaments? Or more totem war banners?
"Have you ever considered that no matter how much we prepare, can we ever match the Yan Dynasty, which occupies the Central Plains?"
No one spoke.
The Barbarian Heterodox King slowly raised his hand and caught a snowflake drifting down from the sky, feeling no cold at all.
His palm was covered in a layer of keratin resembling gauntlets.
Adult barbarians grew this hard layer of keratin over their bodies—it was a deadly weapon, but also an evolutionary shield to retain warmth in this bitterly cold land over endless ages.
And because of this, the snowflake in the Barbarian Heterodox King's palm showed no sign of melting. He murmured:
"In this northern land, only one or two out of ten newborns of our Sacred Race survive. Most perish from this bitter cold, from starvation, and from the fact that for most of the twelve months of the year, they cannot even see the sun!"
The Barbarian Heterodox King casually pointed southward with his other hand.
"Zhaye, have you ever been south of Beifeng?"
"..."
After a few breaths of silence, Zhaye rumbled:
"Never."
In the Barbarian Heterodox King's deep blue eyes appeared a hint of reminiscing, a hint of yearning:
"I once snuck there in secret. South of Beifeng City, the climate is warm, with inexhaustible water and food. The beasts in the mountain forests can be hunted, the fertile fields can be farmed, and we could do everything we have ever desired."
Saying this, the Barbarian Heterodox King clenched his fist tightly around the snowflake in his gauntleted palm. Standing up, his gaze swept over his four confidants as he spoke word by word:
"I will lead our people to trample down the insurmountable Beifeng City.
"Only then can our race survive and flourish. Only then will we not have to slaughter our own kin in this godforsaken snowfield just for a bite of food!"
Chapter 203