The chieftain had simply overthought things.
The following year, as they celebrated their cattle and sheep producing more offspring, over a hundred cavalrymen arrived at the tribe.
They named "He Strong, I Breeze" specifically and said he was to serve at the Royal Tent.
The chieftain was furious, wishing he could gather all his men and fight them to the death.
But he could not. These cavalrymen were all elite troops, each with three horses, fine chainmail, and powerful three-stone bows. If they fought, the tribe would be finished.
He could only painfully let the man leave.
That night, he drank himself into a stupor.
The next day, he was happy again.
Because another player had stepped forward, claiming that he could do everything "He Strong, I Breeze" had done.
Player B still did not step forward.
He merely made friends honestly, amassed wealth, and arranged a marriage, taking the daughter of the chieftain's second son as his wife.
Then he waited for an opportunity.
As he waited, another group arrived.
Beside a stream, Player B looked at the twelve players before him. Each wore a numbered tag on their chest, from No. 1 to No. 12.
"You say you're with Autumn Frost and want to start a resistance army?" After hearing their purpose, he spoke with a faint, mocking smile.
He had already been screwed over once by Spring Thunder. Beneath all that lofty ideology, they had been coveting his daily food...
And now another group had come. What, were they planning to keep shearing the same sheep?
"That's right. We knew you used to be with Spring Thunder, which is why we came to find you," Autumn Frost No. 1 said.
"Sorry, not interested," Player B refused outright.
Getting tricked once was enough. Falling for it twice would