For the entire morning, the Northern Eleven Tribes remained motionless. All the clan chiefs debated what to do—the only option seemed to be fire attack. But soon, scouts returned with news that changed their minds.
Some reported seeing a platform behind the third row of wooden palisades, lined with round wooden barrels—likely filled with water. Even if flaming arrows could reach, the chance of burning down the mountain pass's defenses was slim.
None of the tribes wanted to be the first wave. Even the strongest, the Tang Clan, had only about 7,000 people; other tribes ranged from 1,000 to 3,000.
"Charles, let your tribe lead the charge. I'll give your men shields and vine maces. How about it?"
All eyes turned to Charles Grant. He raised his head and closed his eyes, thinking of the elders and children back in the village. There was no time for hesitation. Breaking through the wooden gate seemed impossible. Their only chance was to throw ropes tied to stones onto the first row of palisades, then climb up.
The troops quickly reorganized. Charles Grant’s thousand warriors were now equipped with shields as tall as a man, and vine maces made from sticks and stones. These could be swung to strike—if they could climb up, they’d have a way to attack.
Tang Shan ordered his own clan and gathered bows from the other tribes, forming a force of five hundred archers. They had to advance. The central mountain pass didn’t seem heavily guarded, but once word of battle spread, troops from both flanks could encircle them. Today was the perfect day to attack.
Inside the pass, the Grant Family’s troops noticed their movements and sprang into action. Shadows moved atop the palisades, nocking arrows, ready to fire at any moment.
Charles Grant mingled among his tribesmen, commanding them as the army advanced step by step. Shields were held high; the archers behind crouched low, poised to shoot.
They were getting closer—less than fifty meters from the first volley. Charles Grant was extremely tense. Just as they reached thirty meters from maximum range, he shouted.
"Charge!"
In an instant, the shouts of battle erupted. Charles Grant held his shield at the rear, charging forward with his tribesmen. Arrows rained down, and people fell, but the losses were less than expected. Their own archers fired a fierce volley at the mountain pass, and some of the Grant Family’s troops fell back, struck by arrows.
Just then, a Grant Family soldier fell from the palisade. Charles Grant was startled to see the ground ahead suddenly sink—their forces had reached the wooden barricade at the mountain pass.
"Retreat quickly, it's a trap!"
Charles Grant shouted, but the front ranks had already charged ahead. Instantly, screams rang out as the ground in front of the barricade collapsed. It was a large stake pit trap made of branches, leaves, and sand—impossible to spot without getting close.
The bottom of the trap was filled with sharpened stakes. Soldiers who fell in were instantly pierced through, their bodies riddled with holes.
Arrows kept raining down from the palisade. The front ranks were nearly wiped out; without the protection of shields, the charging warriors became easy targets.
The retreat horn sounded. Charles Grant looked back at the fleeing troops, hope lost. This mountain pass could not be taken.
Finally out of arrow range, the surviving soldiers looked ashen-faced. Charles Grant stared at the corpses strewn before the mountain pass, chilled to the bone. Nearly three thousand were lost in one charge. The clan chiefs fell silent—the pit trap in front of the barricade was at least two meters wide, impossible to cross without laying planks over it.
No wonder the central troops were so few. Charles Grant couldn’t recall when the trap had been dug, but remembered that every year during tribute, they’d pass through here on a road paved with pine needles and bright flowers, the ground beneath covered by thick wooden planks.
"So King Grant has been preparing for this all along?"
Tang Shan said bitterly. Charles Grant stared at the sky, unable to utter a word.
Why did I make such a terrible decision? Women, elders, children—all to prevent the tribe’s extinction. That’s why I accepted supplies from Wynn Domain. But now, my force has suffered the most: over six hundred lives now lie still in these mountains.
The wind began to blow, echoing through the mountains with a mournful wail.
"Bad news! The Grant Family’s War Bull Cavalry is approaching from the right—there are over a thousand of them!"
A scout rode up on a mountain goat to deliver the news. Immediately, Tang Shan made the decision to retreat—they could go no further.
Their route led through sparse woods and cracked, barren land. The Grant Family’s troops likely planned to intercept them there. If the War Bull Cavalry charged, they’d be slaughtered instantly.
All the troops sprang into action. The terror of the War Bulls was well-known: each carried two soldiers, one with a spear, the other guiding the bull. Red leaf flowers were used to enrage the bulls—showing them anything red sent them into a frenzy. One soldier waved a stick adorned with red leaves before the bull’s eyes to lead it, and once the charge began, nothing could stop them. If the War Bull Cavalry charged, their small force would be wiped out.
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The pace of the march quickened. Deeper fear showed on the soldiers’ faces as members of each tribe mounted their horses and prepared to move.
There was no time left to think. Ahead, they could see a vast stretch of cracked yellow earth—once a lake, now dried up from years of drought.
"The War Bull Cavalry has been spotted!"
A cry went up. Instantly, the tribal troops, already gripped by bottomless fear, fell into chaos. From the sparse woods on the right, a horde of war bulls driven by men surged toward them.
They were getting closer. Charles Grant kept urging his tribesmen to run faster.
"Drop your weapons! Run!"
Charles Grant shouted, and his tribesmen immediately tossed their weapons and ran. Their unit was at the front, and the war bulls were already at the edge of the woods.
The bellowing of bulls echoed. Suddenly, a swath of red appeared—soldiers atop the war bulls, holding sticks adorned with red leaf flowers, whipped the herd into a frenzy and sent them charging straight ahead.
The ground thundered, shouts erupted, and even those reluctant to abandon their weapons now threw them down. But time had run out.
Blood and flesh flew. Soldiers struck by the charging bulls were sent flying, screams filled the air. Charles Grant couldn’t bear to watch; he kept shouting for his tribe to run.
The shouting didn’t stop; chaos reigned behind them. At last, they burst into the woods. Many soldiers, having narrowly escaped death, began to cry.
Looking back, Charles Grant saw countless soldiers lying on the ground as the Grant Family’s follow-up troops emerged from the woods to encircle them.
Defeat. In less than a day, the war was over. The Northern Eleven Tribes, having lost more than half their number, retreated.
But what puzzled Charles Grant was that the Grant Family’s troops did not pursue. He saw the cavalry—numerous, their horses fit for mountain raids—yet after the war bull charge ended, they stayed put, not giving chase.
"Hahaha, serves them right! Traitors—I’ll chase them down and kill every last one!"
Edward Grant sat astride his horse, brandishing his bone spear and roaring, but none of the troops moved.
"Brother, have you forgotten? Father gave me full command. You have no authority to give orders."
Sophie Grant, smiling atop her goat, held two bone knives. After dismounting, she began ordering the battlefield cleanup. The severely wounded were executed on the spot; only the lightly wounded were spared, but they’d be slaves for life.
"Little sister, if we don’t pursue now, when will we? Father’s too timid—give me a thousand men and I’ll chase them myself!"
Edward Grant roared in anger.
"No means no, brother. Father instructed me—absolutely no pursuit. Once the battlefield is cleared, we return."
Edward Grant, furious, dismounted. He saw an enemy whose abdomen had been crushed by a bull, raising his hand and whimpering. Edward drove his bone spear into the man's throat.
"The trap’s exposed now. Wynn Domain and Si Domain probably know our tactics and defenses. We need to build stronger fortifications. Let’s go, brother—let’s head back."
Sophie Grant said, walking over to Edward Grant and grabbing his arm.
"Come on, brother, I’ll make you something good to eat when we get home."
Edward Grant sighed and shook his head helplessly.
"How are second brother and second sister? Any news from them?"
"Don’t worry about them. They’re smarter than you now, haha."
Edward Grant slapped Sophie Grant’s forehead, then pinched her mouth.
"Alright, brother, I get it. You’re not stupid, you’re brave. Haha."
The siblings smiled, mounted their rides, and led the troops away.