Thirty-ninth Chapter: Fury

After dismissing everyone, Suleiman was left alone in the tent.

Suleiman began to consider the current situation.

Two fingers tapped rhythmically against the tabletop.

The addition of Bronn would not change anything.

Even if his strength was formidable, he was, in the end, only one man.

Moreover, given his nature of valuing his own life, he would not throw himself into a hopeless situation.

And he likely had not lied about the situation in Valleydeep Town.

He could fully understand the mood of Grover Valleydeep.

After all, it was he who was trapped in a heavy siege, not himself.

Once the city fell, his life would end and his clan would be annihilated.

But the problem was that he currently had no way to relieve the siege of Valleydeep Town.

He did not believe he possessed such strength.

This was no longer a matter of seeking wealth through danger; it was like throwing a meat bun at a dog—never to return.

He needed a plan, a plan that would give the besieging enemy a headache.

He needed chaos, a chaos that would allow him to slip in while they were distracted.

A faint, imperceptible curve appeared at the corner of Suleiman's mouth.

Those traces should have been discovered by the Wildlings by now, right?

He had long since seen through the nature of the Wildlings:

"Simple, direct, and vengeful."

These so-called Free Folk could abandon everything for the sake of revenge.

In the Burned Men's beast-hide tent within the siege camp outside Valleydeep Town.

Timett Son of Timett was suffering from a headache.

The stone walls of the Flatlanders were still too difficult for Wildlings with no experience in siege warfare.

They had plenty of ferocity and the courage to risk their lives.

But for them, stone walls were impossible.

There were no trees to climb, nor soft earth to dig into.

Crude wooden ladders could not reach the battlements, and shoddy ropes could not be effectively secured.

Even if they were lucky enough to climb up, they were met with dense volleys of arrows and thrown stones.

However, at this very moment, a series of piercing, miserable howls suddenly erupted from all corners of the camp!

It interrupted the thoughts of Timett Son of Timett.

Timett Son of Timett stood up abruptly.

Immediately following, more howls echoed from all over the camp, one after another.

Even his own Burned Men camp was echoing with the same screams and chaos!

He had no time to think, grabbing the fine sword he had captured from a Flatlander.

He rushed out of the beast-hide tent in a single stride, sprinting toward the source of the wails.

He saw the chieftain of the Howlers at a glance.

The very chieftain of the Howlers who had argued with him earlier.

He could barely recognize him.

He was clearly in the prime of his life.

Just the day before, he had been full of vigor.

But now.

His body seemed to have aged in an instant.

His hair was gray and white.

He was hunched over, looking wretched.

At this moment, he was kneeling on the ground.

In his arms, he clutched something charred black, barely recognizable as human.

His eyes were bloodshot, and he let out a beast-like wail of grief.

He cursed loudly, his voice hoarse and filled with agony.

"My son! My son! My child!" The chieftain of the Howlers wailed, his voice tearing through the air with heart-rending agony.

Now, Timett Son of Timett knew the truth of the rumors.

He gripped the captured longsword in his hand so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

These Flatlanders had actually been hunting them right under their very noses!

"Pursue them! Kill them! Avenge our Champions!" The Wildlings of the Howlers had fallen into a state of absolute madness.

"Those damned Flatlanders! I'm going to mince them into meat paste!" The Wildlings of the Milk Snakes and the Painted Dogs roared in fury, their eyes bloodshot.

The chieftain of the Howlers stood up abruptly and looked at Timett Son of Timett, his eyes burning red:

"Timett Son of Timett!"

"The Howlers will not stay here any longer! Keeping company with these stone walls!"

"The Howlers will find those Flatlanders! And chop off their heads!"

The Wildlings of the Milk Snakes and the Painted Dogs were like powder kegs being ignited at this moment.

"Count us in!"

"Go and chop off their heads! Avenge our children and our brothers!"

In the camp, a violent rage spread like the wind.

Hundreds of bloodshot eyes all spoke the same word—revenge!

Timett Son of Timett watched this group of out-of-control Wildlings, his heart sinking.

He was also furious, but he knew that the big picture had to come first.

If they did not take Valleydeep Town, it would remain like a thorn in their path, both in front of them and behind them.

Stone walls.

They were already extremely difficult to assault.

Now.

If their forces were further dispersed.

Weakening their siege strength.

He stepped forward abruptly.

Attempting to stop them.

"Halt!" he shouted, his voice carrying an unquestionable majesty.

"The walls! That is our true target!"

He pointed into the distance, at the stone fortress that was not particularly tall.

Yet, at this moment, Valleydeep Town appeared so imposing.

"Have you forgotten how many of our tribesmen have already died attacking this city?!"

"Once we disperse, our strength will be weakened!"

"When that happens, no one will be able to break through this city!"

"For the sake of our goal! These walls must be taken!"

However.

The enraged Wildlings could not be persuaded by any reasoning.

The chieftain of the Howlers roared at him.

"Timett Son of Timett!"

"You sit in your beast-hide tent, listening to the screams of your tribesmen! Are you indifferent?!"

"That was my son!"

"They died right under our noses! Hunted like livestock!"

"I don't care about the plunder anymore! I want revenge!"

"I want to slaughter every last one of the Flatlanders!"

"Regardless of age or gender! Slaughter them all!" The angry roars echoed throughout the camp.

The chieftains of the Milk Snakes and the Painted Dogs also stepped forward.

Their eyes filled with intense dissatisfaction toward Timett Son of Timett.

"Timett Son of Timett!"

"You are not our leader!"

"You have no right to command us!"

"We will go for revenge! We will go and chop off the heads of those Flatlanders!"

Timett Son of Timett watched them.

He watched those eyes filled with hatred and fury.

He knew that he could not stop them.

Their rage had already transcended all reason.

All strategy.

Damn it! he cursed inwardly.

His knuckles turned white as he gripped his longsword.

All he could do.

Was watch helplessly.

Watch as the Howlers, the Milk Snakes, and the Painted Dogs.

More than three hundred Wildling Champions.

Led by their respective chieftains.

Carrying hearts full of hatred and bloodlust.

Left the siege camp.

Like a pack of enraged beasts, they roared.

Charging into the depths of the night.

To hunt down those Flatlanders.

The Stone Crow Tribe, the Black Ears Tribe, and several other tribes.

Also sent men to follow in their wake.

They did not even know where those Flatlanders had gone.

They only knew that they had to kill every Flatlander they could find!

And that stone castle.

Behind them, it appeared even more unshakable.

A silent, furious Burned Man stepped forward.

"What do we do, Timett Son of Timett!"

Timett Son of Timett looked at them, looked at their clansmen.

Among those hunted Wildlings, there were also Warriors of the Burned Men.

His own clansmen were also exceptionally furious.

They also wanted to pursue those Flatlanders.

But.

Timett Son of Timett looked toward Valleydeep Town.

"We will have our revenge!"

"Once this damn stone castle is taken by us!"

"Once all the Flatlanders hiding inside have been slaughtered by us!"