He couldn't remember the last time he'd tasted such fresh, tender fish. Nets lined the shore, and the soldiers were hard at work pulling fish from them. The smaller ones were tossed aside, while the plump, fat ones were immediately cleaned with bone knives, salted, and smoked over the fire.
He had originally planned to sabotage the fishing nets here, but on second thought, doing so would only alert the enemy. It could even lead to a direct confrontation with the Wynn Domain, and they might blame the Grant Tribe for the incident.
All of these outcomes were entirely possible, and Charles Grant couldn't take that risk. After resting for a while, he led part of his men across the river to the opposite bank, lit torches, and began to investigate.
Aside from the newly cleared road, there wasn't even a single treehouse here—no one was guarding the area. After walking for a while, Charles Grant realized he was heading up the mountain; the path grew narrower and narrower.
It was the height of the fishing season. Watching them haul fish with oxen today, they must have carried away at least a hundred sacks of fish.
To track the enemy’s movements, Charles Grant continued along the refurbished mountain road. Small fish littered the ground everywhere, and the stench of fish hung thick along the path.
At last, he reached the summit. Charles Grant was startled to discover a winding road descending the mountain, with bright lights visible far in the distance. Faint voices could be heard, and looking around, he realized this place had been cleared for processing fish.
After observing for a while, he realized that descending from here to the foot of the mountain would take at least half a morning. The sky was already turning pale, meaning a round trip would take nearly a full day.
Charles Grant left a few quick-footed soldiers at the summit, instructing them to report back immediately if anything happened. He also ordered the soldiers who had finished processing the fish to clean up all traces. When handling the fish, they were to stand in front of the nets and toss any scraps directly into the river, leaving nothing behind.
With no containers for the fish, they had no choice but to take off their leather coats and use them to wrap the dried, smoked fish.
Charles Grant left only fifty men behind to keep watch here. One day passed, then two, and by the third day, the fish had accumulated in considerable numbers. Only then did people from the other side of the mountain drive out their cattle—over a hundred head.
But the number of fish now was far less than what Charles Grant had seen before. Many fish had already been taken away, enough to feed the villagers for a long time.
No one ever paid attention to places like this, so the Wynn Domain people felt safe, completely unguarded.
Once he understood the enemy's movements, Charles Grant led his tribe back. He had already instructed everyone in the village not to utter a word about what had happened here.
Two days later, Charles Grant returned to the village. The atmosphere was much better than before he left, and all the fish brought back were stored by the forest near the river.
After consulting with some tribal elders, Charles Grant decided to withdraw from the war. With the fish, his tribe could survive the current crisis. If they joined the war again, the tribe would surely be destroyed. Only by gathering strength could Charles Grant hope to reconcile with the Grant Family.
But for now, there was nothing he could do. Just a few days ago, a spy in Grant City had sent word that his son was still alive. That was his only hope.
His closest friend, Louis Yu, was supporting the war—there must be a reason. Charles Grant had to visit the Louis Clan himself.
The next day, just as Charles Grant was about to leave, people from the Tang tribe arrived, demanding that he gather his troops for war.
"I refuse."
Charles Grant spoke with unwavering resolve. The visitors roared in anger.
"Do you want to die? Look at the sky—just days ago it was gloomy, but now it's completely clear. If you refuse, your tribe may not survive this winter."
No matter how hard they tried to persuade him, Charles Grant would not assemble his troops. In the end, he said he'd rather let his people live or die on their own than become enemies with the Grant Family. The Tang tribe left in anger.
Everyone in the village began preparing bags for carrying fish. To make them easier to transport, they shaped them like barrels. Life in the village improved—roasted and processed fish, mixed with wild vegetables, made a delicious soup for a family of four to enjoy together.
To avoid suspicion, Charles Grant instructed that each time they went to collect fish, they should wait until the fish gatherers had left, and always leave some of the bigger fish behind.
Charles Grant remembered that during the first two years of disaster, this river was what saved them. Other tribes had relied on it too, but now things were different—the upstream had been tampered with.
Fish alone wasn't enough. Charles Grant led some young people into the mountains and forests. With food now secured, there was no fear of starving in the wild. They could even reach places untouched by disaster.
With food, the tribe was filled with hope. Nothing else mattered as much. Things progressed steadily, but then the Tang tribe returned.
To avoid suspicion, when the Tang tribe arrived, everyone in the village stayed indoors, making it seem as if they were too weak from hunger to move.
This time, the Tang tribe brought some grain, hoping to use it as leverage to make Charles Grant lead his soldiers into battle. A few days earlier, they had fought a small skirmish in the woods but were forced to retreat. The Grant Family did not pursue them.
"Do you really want to die?"
The visitor shouted in anger. Charles Grant smiled and shook his head.
"If dying is inevitable, then so be it. Heaven has already abandoned us. War means death; waiting means death. At least let us choose how we die."
The Tang tribe left, defeated. Some, moved by pity, left behind a bit of grain before hurrying away.
Long sheds for drying fish were built by the river. Fish hung from the rafters, and the walls were dotted with ventilation holes. The river wind blew through, drying the fish completely and making them last longer.
Now, those who fetched fish would salt them before bringing them back. They took less, but once wind-dried in these sheds, the fish could last much longer.
"Maybe this is Heaven's last chance for the Louis Clan."
Deep in the mountains, foragers found edible wild vegetables, fruits, and caught game. Each trip brought back plenty, and life in the tribe improved greatly.
Charles Grant wanted to visit Louis Yu, but when he arrived, he was blocked by other tribes, who even showed hostility toward him.
"Boss, we came back with a full load again today."
By the river, Charles Grant watched as people returned with fish. Villagers rushed to help, and he was very pleased. Just then, someone ran over in a hurry.
"You said Louis Yu is here?"
Charles Grant's expression changed, but when he learned Louis Yu had come alone, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Ah Yu, what happened to you?"
It had been two months since they last met. Louis Yu looked gaunt and weak, his face pale and his eyes sunken.
"We failed again. The war—with the Sage Domain people growing more ruthless—has left my clan with fewer than five thousand people. We can muster less than five hundred fighters now."
"Come in, Ah Yu. You haven't eaten properly for days, have you?"
Louis Yu looked at the steaming turtle shell, filled with a huge pot of delicious fish. He hadn't seen so much meat in a long time.
After entering the village, Louis Yu saw that the Louis Clan people seemed happy and healthy—completely different from his own tribe.
After eating his fill, Louis Yu felt much better. At first he was surprised, but then he stood up, furious.
"I didn't expect it to be the Wynn Domain's doing. Sigh."
After a long sigh, Louis Yu glared angrily at Charles Grant, but then his gaze softened.
"I'm sorry, Ah Da. I should've listened to you. Maybe things wouldn't have turned out this way."
After bringing Louis Yu to the river and showing him the dozen fish sheds, Louis Yu believed everything he'd just heard.
"Why not move your clan here, Ah Yu? There's still plenty of space—old farmland that's now abandoned. Your people could settle here easily."
Charles Grant knew the Louis Clan, living in the forests, could barely hunt anymore. Especially after spring, game grew even scarcer. Their survival was in crisis.
In the end, Louis Yu nodded, agreeing to move his clan to the Grant Tribe. After consulting with some elders, most of the Grant Tribe agreed as well. With war always looming, merging the two tribes meant they could build defenses and field an army of three thousand—enough to hold the mountain.
Meanwhile, Grant City was enjoying good weather and abundant harvests. Much of the workforce had been sent to Woodfield for farming, and King Jiang approved King Grant's plan.
"Father, why are you doing this—stockpiling so much food?"
King Grant stood at the palace gate, gazing at the gloomy sky. Ji Chang and Sophie Grant were by his side.
"In the distant future, war will surely come. I may live to see that day, but you are the hope of the Grant Family. The food I store now is for the wars to come."
King Grant spoke as he led his son and daughter to the aviary of the Ninefeather Bird.
"Since the era of the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, the eight domains have been divided for many years. Soon, war will come—not just to us, but to all tribes on the borders. The barbarians may invade, and the world could face unification once more."
King Grant's eyes glinted sharply as he spoke.
"Those who are prepared will win all of China."