High Praise

Two days had passed, and the village was unnervingly quiet.

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

Aside from the chirping of birds, there was not a sound from within the village.

At night, there was no firelight to be seen and no noise to be heard, as if the Burned Men Wildlings had simply vanished from the face of the earth.

In truth, it had been very quiet since the second day, but Suleiman's rule of caution made him wait until the third. Besides, he could wait no longer.

He summoned Lushen and Roslyn.

He told Lushen and Roslyn what had happened.

Suleiman turned around, looked at Lushen and Roslyn, and said in a low voice:

"Do you know why?"

"I had you soak the arrowheads and spear tips in sewage, and I even poured syrup into the mix."

To ensure it would be effective, Suleiman had tossed every foul thing he could find into the mixture and stirred it.

So much so that every soldier tasked with the stirring had vomited for three days and three nights, unable to take a drop of water or a bite of food.

The soldiers responsible for the stirring all said they would rather engage the Wildlings in hand-to-hand combat.

Lushen and Roslyn had no idea why Master Suleiman wanted to soak those things, having tormented who knows how many soldiers in the process.

Now, they knew...

Suleiman looked at them and spoke slowly, his voice like a devil's whisper:

"Once struck or shot by such things, wounds are difficult to heal; they only fester, cause fever, and eventually rot away."

"As long as one is stabbed or shot by such things, even if it is just a superficial wound, it is enough to make life worse than death."

"And the primitive healing methods of the Mountain Clans Wildlings will only cause this problem to worsen."

Listening to this, Lushen and Roslyn turned somewhat pale. Oh, my Master Suleiman!

Seven Gods above! Please do not punish my Master Suleiman! If you must punish someone, punish me!

"Now, it is highly likely they can no longer hold on!" Suleiman whispered to them. "Didn't you want to fight? The opportunity has arrived!"

Lushen and Roslyn listened to Suleiman's devil-like tone...

They were now a little afraid of Suleiman speaking in such a cadence.

Suleiman looked at the fearful expressions of Lushen and Roslyn.

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

"Go assemble the troops!"

Lushen and Roslyn exchanged a glance, their eyes filled with excitement and eagerness. They had been hunkered down in the fortifications for three days; they had long been itching for a good fight!

"Yes, Master Suleiman!" Lushen replied with a steady expression, turning and walking away quickly.

Roslyn, wearing an excited expression, followed him out.

Soon, three hundred soldiers assembled at the fortifications.

Suleiman looked at them.

He felt a sense of emotion inside; no wonder everyone liked looking at a uniform, well-drilled unit.

Seeing his own troops standing in perfect unison was indeed full of aesthetic beauty and a sense of accomplishment.

They wore uniform light cloth armor, held spears, longswords, and hunting bows in their hands, standing in neat, orderly ranks with their heads held high and their gazes sharp.

Seeing their eyes fixed on him atop the high slope.

Suleiman stepped forward, his left hand gripping his sword hilt, his right hand pointing toward them.

"My soldiers!" His voice was not loud, but before a disciplined, silent formation, it sounded exceptionally clear.

"Two days ago! You blocked the charge of the Burned Men Wildlings right here!"

"With the weapons in your hands! You proved your courage!"

"Do you see!"

"The Wildlings have not appeared for two days!"

"They fear you! They are terrified of you!"

"They no longer dare to face us directly! They hide in that village like wounded prey, gasping for their final breaths!"

"And we are the hunters!"

Suleiman did not intend to tell his soldiers.

The Burned Men Wildlings had not appeared because they had been.

Stabbed and shot by their spears and arrows, leading to infections that made their lives worse than death.

He needed this, after the battle ended.

Let these soldiers believe that they have defeated the Burned Men Wildlings in a head-on confrontation.

Only in this way can the fear this troop harbors toward the Mountain Clans Wildlings be thoroughly dispelled; overall self-confidence is absolutely necessary.

Suleiman paused, watching as these conscripted soldiers proudly lifted their heads.

It was time for the next step; Suleiman felt like a primary school teacher, patiently guiding his students to study hard and improve every day.

He spoke in a tone full of temptation, "These Burned Men Wildlings, they came down from the mountains, ransacked how many villages, and stole how much grain, livestock, and wealth?"

"Now, they are not far from here, in that village, carrying everything they have plundered!"

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

"Those things! The valuable things! They are all right there!"

Suleiman looked at his conscripts, watching as their emotions were stirred up.

They revealed gazes like wolves and tigers, as if they were ready to devour people.

He sighed inwardly, realizing that a person's talents are only discovered when they encounter the corresponding circumstances.

Some people never discover their own abilities in their entire lives.

He never expected that he would possess this kind of ability to mobilize emotions.

Suleiman's voice rose abruptly, and he shouted loudly:

"The Seven Above! My promise to you will not change!"

"Now! It is time to go and take what belongs to us!"

"Kill them all! Loot them all!"

"Let us make!-----a fortune!"

The soldiers' breathing became heavy and rapid, their eyes turning greedy and burning.

Lord Suleiman's promise: he only wanted half, and the remaining spoils would be divided equally among everyone according to their military merit!

They did not need Lord Suleiman to say anything else; this promise was more substantial than any empty slogan!

High-pitched war cries erupted within the ranks, and the soldiers' blood boiled!

Everyone's eyes were bloodshot; desire, greed, and bloodlust had ignited their primitive animal nature.

Kill the Wildlings! We are going to make a fortune!

The crowd screamed frantically.

"Kill them all!"

"Loot them all!"

"Kill them all!"

"Loot them all!"

At this moment, they were the hunters! And the Burned Men Wildlings were the prey!

Suleiman looked at these people; there was no other reason, they had been poor for too long, and they were terrified of poverty.

If any Wildlings were present, they would likely be stunned to see this scene; these Flatlanders were using all of my lines, he thought.

Suleiman thought to himself.

He sheathed his Myr Sword, took another step forward, extended his right hand, and raised it high, signaling for silence:

"Do you still remember that strong Wildling from that day?"

Walker, Son of Nego; from the battlefield at the time, Suleiman judged that he should be the leader of this group of Wildlings.

Although the Mountain Clans Wildlings had no class distinctions, they would follow the commands of the strongest, fiercest, and most capable fighter.

The soldiers looked at him; it was clear that they all had a deep impression of that nearly two-meter-tall brute from the Wildling group.

Suleiman pointed his finger at them and spoke slowly: "Whoever takes his head! That person gets twenty Silver Stags on top of their share!"

"For each limb! That person gets another five Silver Stags on top of their share!"

The soldiers were completely ignited! Three Silver Stags were a family's harvest for an entire year!

If one could take all four limbs, that would be forty Silver Stags!

But it wasn't over yet! Suleiman shook his finger at them! He still had more to say!

They looked at Lord Suleiman.

"For his head! I will add another twenty Silver Stags from my own share!"

"For each limb! I will add another five Silver Stags from my own share!"

The soldiers were shocked, silent—a complete and utter silence.

"His head is mine!"

The silence was completely shattered by this sentence from within the ranks.

A total bounty of eighty Silver Stags! The head alone was worth forty Silver Stags! This temptation had already surpassed the fear of death!

The soldiers were completely crazed!

Toman lowered his head and gripped the spear in his hand! His whole body trembled! Eighty Silver Stags!