Heshima wasted no time. He swiftly dismissed the officers and minor chieftains, who still needed to spread the countermeasures for the enemy's mysterious weapons among the Iron Bone Tribe's soldiers and people as quickly as possible. Only then could they restore some morale to the increasingly dispirited force.
After everyone had left, Heshima remained alone in the tent. The excited expression he had worn earlier suddenly faded considerably.
He suddenly raised his head toward the north, but his view was blocked by the felt covering of the tent, and he could see nothing. He sighed, then shook his head.
It was not as though he did not know that his solution was far too wishful. But there was no choice; they needed this reason, or excuse.
Otherwise, once word spread that the force sent to block the enemy had been easily defeated, the entire army's morale would undoubtedly suffer a severe blow.
If anything else happened or they encountered some unexpected setback, the Iron Bone Tribe's main force might not even be able to hold itself together, let alone fight. This was experience Heshima had gained since becoming acting chieftain.
When the Iron Bone Tribe had first begun its southern invasion, everyone in the tribe had been united as one. They could naturally overcome every difficulty, and even when food had run short, the tribe had remained cohesive.
But now, under his command, the Iron Bone Tribe had acknowledged the failure of its southern invasion and had no choice but to retreat to its homeland.
The Iron Bone Tribe had lost much for this southern invasion. Large numbers of elite warriors had died, countless livestock had been eaten for food, and even the tribe's stored provisions were critically low.
Before the war, the tribe's warriors had possessed excellent weapons and