Chapter 1256 - 310: Begging for Money (2)

Chapter 1256: Chapter 310: Begging for Money (2)

When the banner of the Wildling King appeared once more,

the tribal armies surrounding this place immediately fell into considerable chaos.

The Wildling King, once the pride of the Snow Plains, led the wild people of the Snow Plains like a proud lone wolf, creating a near-miracle. Although he ultimately failed, it was the most stirring attempt in hundreds of years and the closest they had come to their homeland.

But very soon,

under the reassurance of the tribal leaders, the emotions of the warriors from each tribe quickly calmed down.

The prestige of the Wildling King indeed still lingered above the Snow Plains, but he was no longer here.

What is there to fear from a person who doesn’t exist?

Sang Hu silently drew his knife,

in his eyes,

the many tribal soldiers around him were not kin but, in truth, real enemies.

In fact,

the current situation on the Snow Plains was a reshuffling after the Wildling King era.

The tribes that once believed in and were willing to follow the Wildling King had sent out their elites to follow him through the passes, while those high-minded large tribes continued to stand by and watch;

when the news of the Wildling King’s defeat reached them, those large tribes immediately began to annex the tribes that followed the Wildling King.

The Naman Tribe was the best example of this.

The tribes that contributed their warriors and leaders to follow the Wildling King suffered a major blow after losing their prime youth, leaving them unable to resist other tribes’ annexations.

The noble lineage was slaughtered, and the tribe’s population became the bottom-tier slaves of the annexing tribes.

Sang Hu remembered that the Wildling King once told them that the real reason for the decline of the sacred race was themselves.

Because of the sacred race’s inherent shortcomings, though they all received guidance from the stars, the starry sky above each tribe was actually different.

The Wildling King taught them to allow for the existence of short-sighted kin, to succeed in their endeavors, and then to lead them and bring them to their side.

But what about them?

How did they act?

When Geremu led his army to attack the Snow Sea Pass to clear a retreat path back to the Snow Plains, the tribes behind the Snow Sea Pass chose to remain inactive.

If they had also attacked at that time, the Snow Sea Pass, being attacked from both front and back, might not have held out.

They chose to watch their kin perish and at the same time feasted on the tribes of those people.

Sang Hu’s anger towards these wild tribes had already surpassed his anger towards the Yan people.

In fact, there was no real hatred towards the Yan people; after all, the Yan people were indeed powerful, directly crushing them, and they lost with conviction.

But such backstabbing kin often provoke the deepest revulsion and hatred in a person;

outside, the enemy stabs into your chest with a sharp steel knife; when pulled out, it draws forth your own boiling blood. The pain is only temporary, and death is just death, there is at least a part of the stars’ favor in your heart;

but when your own people stab you, they use weapons tainted with animal dung; even after death, the filth continues to defile your body.

The Wildling King once told Lord Zheng,

he said this generation of wild people was over, and even the next generation, and the generation after, were over.

Because he had gathered the visionary, daring, courageous people among three generations of wild people, and after making a last-ditch effort, failed utterly decisively.

Humans may be reborn, but without a soul, no matter how many rebirths, all that remains is a swineherd.

This lament of the Wildling King, Lord Zheng actually understood—a nation’s rise requires various opportunities, coincidentally the perfect era, where elites unite to open up new horizons for the nation.

If these elites lose themselves, the nation will go astray, collapse, and if all true elites of the nation are completely wiped out, then it is really beyond salvation.

Sang Hu’s knife glinted coldly in the sunlight. He knew that the hastily assembled tribe behind him could hardly gather any combat power, but if he continued developing on the edge of the extreme north, maybe in ten or twenty years, he could create a tribe of his own, stamping it with a emblem of his choosing;

but he still chose to follow the guidance of that letter. In the letter, the Wildling King explicitly told him that he was tired and wanted to live for himself once.

Sang Hu felt that this was right. Compared to having a tribe of his own, he more wished to see the Wildling King once more in his lifetime.

Just as back then, the Wildling King playfully pushed him, with his hands stained with the blood of star sacrifices, to the position of Grand Elder of the Star Sacrifice.

Sang Hu asked him why he did this.

The Wildling King said, he was happy;

Sang Hu, now, was also quite happy.

In his eyes, he already locked onto a banner of a tribe ahead. The banner bore a black wolf, and that tribe had three thousand warriors, with a leader dressed in extremely flamboyant armor.

Sang Hu felt that the thousand warriors under his command should help him and create an opportunity for him to kill that Black Wolf Tribe’s leader on the opposite side.

Death, he was not afraid. He could already numbingly choose the way of dying and the glory before dying.

Outside, as the increasingly dense sound of horns blared, troops from each tribe began to prepare themselves, ready to charge.