Under the starry night, two horses galloped across the grasslands, the howling wind echoing like ghostly wails.
Lucille Xing was already mounted on her horse. Sebastian Zhao nodded, while Mao Tian gazed at the distant sky.
Joseph Qiao remained silent; he didn't blame these chiefs. Even if he asked them to keep providing troops, at most they could raise another hundred thousand soldiers, totaling no more than two hundred thousand. Most were farmer-soldiers, lacking formal training, mostly reserves for the regular army. Such a force was like an eggshell, while the enemy was a stone—the outcome was obvious.
"Yuna Grant, let's rest over there until sunrise."
Once settled, under the moonlight, Lona Long was certain that the Yuna Grant before her was no longer the one she knew. Her face remained cold and indifferent, but her eyes radiated a fierce intensity—there was no trace of weakness or panic. Clearly, after what had happened, Yuna Grant was a completely different person from the one at dusk.
"Elder Yu, if we don't surrender, what way do we have to resist the enemy?"
"Yuna Grant, what are you looking at?"
Elder Yu's words silenced many tribal chiefs. Indeed, if they didn't surrender, they would only wait for death. Even if they surrendered, without real strength, their only fate was to become the victors' slaves, living lives worse than animals. The men of their tribes would become beasts of burden for the enemy, the women tools.
Now, the combined forces at the three outposts numbered less than one hundred thousand. The southern Yu Clan had already moved into the second outpost and begun constructing defensive walls. The enemy had seized the southern granaries, and their main forces were pressing from the north. The enemy in the northwest and south had started to move, planning a three-sided encirclement. They would launch their attack before winter set in.
Everyone's expression was heavy; most frowned after hearing the report.
Yuna Grant let out a soft chuckle, then closed her eyes.
"Good night, Lona."
"Yuna Grant..."
Lona Long shifted closer, gently cradling Yuna Grant against her chest, wrapping her arms tenderly around her, and closing her eyes.
Just as dawn broke, Joseph Qiao sat in the central shelter of the first outpost. People kept coming in. Early that morning, he had just woken from sleep when the bad news arrived—King Grant had passed away. Now, with the Grant tribes leaderless, the various chiefs were gathering one after another.
"I'm Yuna Grant, Joseph Qiao. Don't you recognize me? I'm also the sole heir of the Grant Domain."
A fit of coughing announced the arrival of an elderly man—Elder Yu, chief of the third-largest tribe in Grant Domain. Supported by his son and daughter, he entered. Zhaopeng immediately greeted him, and after a brief conversation, returned to his seat.
As the sun rose, the shelter filled with tribal chiefs. Only then did voices begin to emerge, and Phoenix Yu briefly outlined the current situation.
Now, the combined forces at the three outposts numbered less than one hundred thousand. The southern Yu Clan had already moved into the second outpost and begun constructing defensive walls. The enemy had seized the southern granaries, and their main forces were pressing from the north. The enemy in the northwest and south had started to move, planning a three-sided encirclement. They would launch their attack before winter set in.
"Princess Yuna Grant is here."
"Why don't we just surrender?"
A faint voice emerged, but in the shelter it sounded especially clear. All eyes turned. Most chiefs were now discussing surrender—King Grant was gone, the Ji family had no successor, and the only heir, Simon Grant, was not yet six years old. Meanwhile, the enemy could muster 400,000 troops in an instant. There was simply no way to win this war.
"Yuna Grant, why are you..."
"Surrender?"
An elderly voice rang out, and the discussion stopped at once. Elder Yu's mocking tone made many tribe members uncomfortable. One chief stood up and challenged him.
"I'm Yuna Grant, Joseph Qiao. Don't you recognize me? I'm also the sole heir of the Grant Domain."
"Then surrender. Afterward, you'll spend your whole life—and your descendants too—as slaves, forever at the mercy of Wynn Domain and Sage Domain, living lives worse than beasts. If that's what you want, go ahead."
"What are you thinking, Yuna Grant?"
Unless, like the Zou Clan, they could offer the enemy real benefits.
Most tribal chiefs had experienced war and knew all too well what surrender and defeat meant.
"No chance of victory? Is that what you really believe?"
Joseph Qiao spoke up, and the chiefs turned to him. Among the Grant tribes, he was known as Simon Grant's successor. Young as he was, he had earned King Grant's trust and was a capable steward of his own clan. In Woodfield, the Qiao Clan had become indispensable to the Grant Domain.
The chiefs knew the reason for their defeat—ignoring the advice of this young leader. If they had abandoned the three passes and finished the southern harvest, as he had urged, they could have mustered 300,000 troops. Even losing half, by winter the enemy would have no food and would be forced to retreat.
"Yusheng, just tell us—what do we do now? We can't be as scattered as the northern tribes, or we'll destroy ourselves. Let's hear Yusheng's plan."
A younger chief spoke up, and many others nodded in agreement.
"The battle in seven days will decide our fate. The enemy will strike all at once. If we can hold them off, there is hope. If this outpost falls in seven days, there will be no escape—only death awaits."
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Joseph Qiao stood and swept his gaze over the tribal chiefs.
"Yusheng, even dying in battle is better than living as a slave, working until death. Since we've decided, let's prepare with everything we have for the coming fight."
Leaving the shelter, Joseph Qiao immediately rallied some cavalry.
"Please, clear out all enemy scouts nearby. We cannot let them find the Stampede Battalion—it's the key to our defense."
Lucille Xing was already mounted on her horse. Sebastian Zhao nodded, while Terry Mao gazed at the distant sky.
"I'm coming too, Yusheng."
Lily Mao ran over, but Joseph Qiao shook his head.
"Lily, I need you to go to the second outpost later. We're running low on timber here. Go yourself and bring back the wood."
Just under a thousand cavalry split into three groups and rode out from the outpost. On the perimeter, soldiers were still digging trenches—almost everyone able-bodied was helping. In just two days, they'd dug a trench three meters long.
"It's not deep enough. Dig further down, and widen it as much as possible."
Joseph Qiao gave instructions. Even if the enemy had battering rams, approaching would be difficult with such a porcupine-like outpost.
Looking around, Joseph Qiao pondered countermeasures. The enemy would likely attack from three sides, and if any side fell, defeat was certain.
There was still a month and a half before winter. It took more than a day to reach the outpost from the central forest region, and the enemy had probably already begun to move.
To keep up, they could only work day and night to widen the defensive trench. With a width of five or six meters, it would be nearly impossible for the enemy to charge the outpost easily.
He glanced back at the wooden walls behind him—every meter had an opening. Soldiers stood on platforms, able to attack directly through the half-meter wide slits, reducing casualties. Those behind could fire projectiles over them.
"Pass the word: soldiers who have been digging all day should rest. Let them recover until tomorrow night before resuming work."
Joseph Qiao shouted. Now, only by rotating the outpost's personnel could they manage such a huge workload. To finish quickly, everyone had to pitch in, but fatigue was mounting.
In the pale night breeze and moonlight, Lucille Xing led her soldiers, patrolling slowly outside the main gate. She had already eliminated more than ten enemy scouts and was searching for the next group.
She gazed at the distant mountains, where the enemy's main force was camped. Gripping her sword at her waist, she stared unflinchingly, anger stabbing at her heart. She used to dislike the fierce Edward Grant, but she had come to understand him—he cared deeply for his tribe and had no airs as heir.
For two days straight, Sebastian Zhao and his cavalry had wiped out more than ten enemy reconnaissance squads near the outpost.
The trench had been widened by another meter, but the depth was still lacking. Early in the morning, Joseph Qiao inspected the fortress walls. Some patches of mud had fallen off in the strong wind, so he directed people to reapply it.
Just then, a column of fast horses galloped over.
"Princess Yuna is here."
In an instant, Joseph Qiao's eyes widened. He spun his horse around and rushed straight to the center of the outpost.
Many soldiers and tribal generals were discussing nearby as Joseph Qiao hurried past.
"Yuna, why are you..."
Suddenly, Joseph Qiao sensed something unusual and blurted out.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Yuna Ji, Joseph Qiao. Don't you recognize me? I'm also the sole heir of the Grant Domain."
At once, a wave of murmurs swept through the crowd.
"What are you thinking, Yuna?"
Joseph Qiao roared in anger.