Generous Rewards

Two days passed, and the village remained strangely quiet.

The soldiers in the fortifications watched the distant village, no longer tense.

Apart from birdsong, there was no sound from the village.

At night, there were no fires to be seen and no sounds to be heard, as if the Burned Men Wildlings had vanished from the face of the earth.

In truth, it had already been very quiet on the second day, but Suleiman's cautious approach made him wait until the third. Besides, he could not wait any longer.

He summoned Lushen and Roslyn.

He told Lushen and Roslyn what had happened.

Suleiman turned and looked at Lushen and Roslyn, then said quietly:

"Do you know why I had you soak the arrowheads and spearheads in manure water, then pour syrup into it?"

To make sure it worked, Suleiman had tossed every filthy thing he could find into the mixture and stirred it all together.

As a result, every soldier assigned to stir it had spent three days and nights vomiting, without a drop of water or a bite of food.

The soldiers who had stirred the mixture said they would rather fight the Wildlings hand to hand.

Lushen and Roslyn had never known why Lord Suleiman was soaking those things. He had put countless soldiers through misery.

Now they knew...

Suleiman looked at them and spoke slowly, as if whispering like a demon:

"If they're stabbed or shot with something like that, their wounds will be hard to heal. They'll only fester, develop a fever, and eventually rot."

"Even the slightest wound from one of those things is enough to make someone wish they were dead."

"And the primitive treatments used by the Mountain Clans Wildlings will only make things worse."

As Lushen and Roslyn listened, their faces turned pale. Oh, Lord Suleiman!

Seven above! Please don't punish my Lord Suleiman! If someone must be punished, punish me instead!

"They've probably reached their limit by now!" Suleiman whispered to them. "Didn't you want to fight? Here's your chance!"

Lushen and Roslyn listened to Suleiman's demonic whisper: ...

They were a little afraid whenever Suleiman spoke in that tone.

Suleiman looked at their frightened faces.

He coughed twice, returned to his normal tone, and said calmly:

"Go assemble the troops!"

Lushen and Roslyn exchanged a glance, excitement shining in their eyes. They could barely contain themselves. They'd been stuck in the fortifications for three days and had long been itching for a good fight!

"Yes, Lord Suleiman!" Lushen replied, his expression composed as he turned and strode away.

Roslyn, looking excited, ran after him.

Soon, three hundred soldiers had gathered at the fortifications.

Suleiman looked at them.

He couldn't help thinking how it was no wonder people loved to see troops in perfect formation.

Seeing his own soldiers drawn up in neat ranks truly was beautiful and satisfying.

They wore matching cloth light armor and held spears, longswords, and hunting bows. They stood in perfect formation, heads held high, chests out, eyes sharp.

When he saw them looking up at him on the slope,

Suleiman stepped forward twice, his left hand gripping his sword hilt and his right pointing at them.

"My soldiers!" His voice wasn't loud, but it rang especially clearly before the disciplined, utterly silent ranks.

"Two days ago, you stopped the Burned Men Wildlings' charge right here!"

"With the weapons in your hands, you proved your courage!"

"Do you see it?"

"The Wildlings haven't appeared for two days!"

"They're afraid of you! They fear you!"

"They don't dare face us anymore! They're hiding in that village, clinging to life like wounded prey!"

"And we are the hunters!"

Suleiman had no intention of telling his soldiers

that the Burned Men Wildlings hadn't appeared because they had been

struck by spears and arrows, and the resulting infections had left them wishing they were dead.

After this battle, he needed

the soldiers to believe they had defeated the Burned Men Wildlings head-on.

Only then could he completely dispel the troops' fear of the Mountain Clans Wildlings. Their confidence as a whole was essential!

Suleiman paused, watching the conscripted soldiers lift their heads proudly.

It was time for the next step. Suleiman felt like an elementary school teacher patiently encouraging his pupils to study hard and improve every day.

He said in a tempting tone, "How many villages have these Burned Men Wildlings raided since they came down from the mountains? How much grain, livestock, and property have they taken?"

"Now they're not far from here, in that village, with all the things they stole!"

He drew his sword, pointed at the distant village, and shouted, "Gold! Silver! Grain! Cloth! Everything! All of it!"

"All those things! All that valuable stuff! It's there!"

Suleiman watched the conscripts, their emotions roused.

They looked like wolves, their eyes fierce and hungry.

He couldn't help reflecting that people's talents only came to light when the right opportunity arose.

Some people went their whole lives without discovering what they were capable of.

Who would have thought he had a talent for rousing people?

Suleiman's voice suddenly rose as he shouted:

"Seven above! My promise to you still stands!"

"Now it's time to take what belongs to us!"

"Kill them all! Take everything!"

"Let's make a f—fortune!"

The soldiers' breathing grew heavy and rapid. Their eyes burned with greed.

Lord Suleiman had promised to take only half. The rest of the spoils would be divided among them according to their military merits!

They needed no other words from Lord Suleiman. That promise was more tangible than any empty slogan!

A thunderous battle cry rose from the ranks. The soldiers' blood was boiling!

Their eyes were bloodshot, their primal brutality awakened by desire, greed, and bloodlust.

Kill all the Wildlings! We're going to make a fortune!

The crowd shouted wildly.

"Kill them all!"

"Take everything!"

"Kill them all!"

"Take everything!"

At that moment, they were the hunters, and the Burned Men Wildlings were the prey!

Suleiman looked at them. What else could he say? They'd been poor for too long, poor for so long that they were afraid of being poor.

If a Wildling had been there, they probably would have been dumbfounded. Those Flatlanders were using their lines!

That was what Suleiman thought.

He returned the Myr Sword to its scabbard, stepped forward once more, and raised his right hand high to signal for silence:

"Do you remember that strong Wildling from the other day?"

Walker, Son of Nego. Judging by the battlefield, Suleiman believed he was the leader of that band of Wildlings.

Although the Mountain Clans Wildlings had no ranks, they followed whoever was strongest, fiercest, and best at fighting.

The soldiers looked at him. They had clearly been impressed by the nearly two-meter-tall giant in the Wildling band.

Suleiman pointed at them and spoke slowly: "Whoever takes his head will get twenty Silver Stags from their share!"

"For each of his limbs, you'll get another five Silver Stags from your share!"

The soldiers were in an uproar! Three Silver Stags was what a family earned in a year!

If they brought in all four limbs, they could get forty Silver Stags!

But that wasn't all! Suleiman wagged his finger at them. He had more to say!

They looked at Lord Suleiman.

"For his head, I'll put up another twenty Silver Stags from my own share!"

"For each of his limbs, I'll put up another five Silver Stags from my share!"

The soldiers were stunned. Silence fell, absolute silence.

"I want his head!"

That cry from within the ranks shattered the silence.

An eighty-Silver-Stag bounty! The head alone was worth forty Silver Stags! The temptation had already eclipsed their fear of death!

The soldiers went completely mad!

Toman bowed his head and gripped his spear tightly, trembling all over. Eighty Silver Stags!