Several hundred Griffin Golden Armor Knights hovered above the Bear Claw Tribe. Behind their Face-covering Helmets were only deep, cold gazes. It seemed that with a single command, they could slaughter every last one of the thousands of people in the tribe. This silent display of power alone was enough to make the Tribe Chieftains break out in a cold sweat.

“The Lord has arrived!” Sam, who had been waiting in readiness, calmly clasped his hands behind his back and gazed into the distance.

The dozen or so Chieftains involuntarily stood ramrod straight, their faces stiffening. The elite Griffin Knights who had arrived first were a clear sign: this Lord of High Cliff Castle was likely even more powerful than they had imagined.

The Old People of the Bear Claw Tribe stood panicking behind their old Chieftain. Sniffling children hid in their mothers’ arms, secretly peeking at these warriors who seemed like gods from the heavens.

The storm clouds swirled faster, and the ground trembled with increasing violence. A biting, snow-filled wind whipped everyone’s hair across their stinging eyes.

Thick trees collapsed to the ground one by one. White snow sprayed high into the air. Snowbirds shrieked as they flapped away into the distance.

At the edge of everyone’s vision, amidst the swirling snowflakes, an army gradually came into view.

A massive banner hung from a pole as thick as a man’s arm and seven or eight measures long. A golden Demonic Puppet, standing a full twelve measures tall and as burly as a Giant, easily carried this great standard at the very front.

With every step forward, it knocked down any trees in its path. These trees, over ten measures tall, seemed more fragile than stalks of wheat in a field.

Behind it were three neat square formations, jogging in perfect unison. The steel Axes in their hands were exceptionally dazzling as they reflected the light.

A burly Centaur Clan Warrior patrolled back and forth, holding a large, horn-shaped instrument. It blew a series of clear, rhythmic calls, directing the orderly formations.

These burly Warriors wore Heavy Armor of unimaginable quality. Their weapons looked sharp enough to cleave a skull, and their perfectly synchronized steps, as if they were one man, were even more staggering.

Most terrifying of all was the heaven-touching golden colossus. This Golden Man was the color of gleaming mountain copper, possessing an unparalleled, primitive grandeur.

Every step it took made the earth tremble. Its footprints were like ripples spreading across the surface of water. An arm-thick iron chain was wrapped around its other arm, dragging a giant iron anchor that skidded across the ground.

Its body was like a mountain, a ridge. Its mere presence was enough to inspire unstoppable despair in all who saw it.

On the shoulder of the Golden Man stood a tall, stately man clad in Golden Plate Armor inlaid with gold and silver. A little girl sat on his shoulder, dangling a pair of small, jade-white feet. His calm gaze shot out, looking toward them from afar.

‘By the Natural Goddess, is this the descent of the gods?’ The Chieftains stared blankly at the scene, their bodies trembling uncontrollably.

The Old People of the Bear Claw Tribe were frozen like a row of statues. Even the infants, who had been wailing from hunger in their mothers’ arms, had fallen silent.

They would have believed without a second thought if someone told them these god-like warriors had just descended from a Divine Kingdom. Such beings shouldn’t exist in the real world; their very presence was unfair to everyone else.

“You bumpkins. That’s a Sai Dai Golden Man from the Holy Sith Kingdom.” Seeing the dumbfounded looks on the chieftains’ faces, Sam felt a satisfaction to his vanity like never before.

“I am Levi Targaryen, the Duke of Debei and the Lord of this Wilderness.” Levi’s voice boomed like thunder from his perch on the Sai Dai Golden Man’s shoulder. “All Wilderness People are my subjects and therefore deserve my protection. I have come because I cannot stand to see you continue to languish in suffering. My subordinate should have already informed you of this. So, answer me now: what is your decision?”

In the wind, his golden cape billowed imperiously.

‘This was the plan he and Sam had devised long ago. Gather all the Chieftains in one place, and he would lead the warriors of the Burning Corps to put on a show of force. After all, men are awed by power, not swayed by benevolence.’

The entire Tribe of several thousand people was utterly silent, as if a Witch Demon had turned them all into Undead.

One of the Chieftains stepped forward. He had graying hair and clearly held a higher status than the others. “Respected Lord of High Cliff Castle, Your Grace the Duke,” he began. “We, the pitiful children of the Natural Goddess, the humble Old People from the Kas Mountain Range, have long been prepared to serve you as our lord.” As he spoke, however, his tone shifted. “But…”

The expressions on the faces of the Beastman Warriors turned ice-cold. Zamanzi gripped his Axe, ready to let out a roar like an avalanche.

The Centaur Clan Warriors nocked their arrows. The Griffin Knights stared grimly at the Chieftain who was about to speak so brazenly.

Forcibly absorbing these Old People had been a contingency plan all along.

High Cliff Castle had always developed through iron and blood.

A tide of killing intent washed over the old Chieftain of the Bear Claw Tribe, making his face go stiff. But for the future of the children, he still had to risk being chopped into mincemeat. He struggled to control his trembling body and said:

“But we are like camels in the desert, about to be crushed by the last straw. The wrath of the Ice and Snow Goddess has buried the Kas Mountain Range in snow for a full year. The potatoes in the ground have frozen to death, and the wild beasts have vanished. We have been hungry for too long. Our mothers can no longer produce a single drop of milk, and our poor infants, who haven’t even grown their baby teeth, must try to eat hardened grass cakes.”

“Oh, my benevolent master, we are willing to offer our lives to you! We only ask for a single bran cake to fill our hungry bellies.”

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