The Military State and Divine Authority

This was blatant coercion, yet Kas had to respond.

He raised his right hand, his expression solemn and his tone grave:

"I swear in the name of my father, Malik Axe-Breaker, that I merely provided Shaman Baize with some novel ideas during the creation of the Radel. The appearance of the Radel in the Sorrow Mountains was absolutely not my doing."

A major difficulty in learning logic is identifying pseudo-concepts and sophistry; a true logician can easily use vague language to obscure the truth.

Kas admitted to himself that he had indeed provided "a little" help during the creation of the Radel, primarily through Four Causes Alchemy and Pythagorean Sacred Numerology, but this was merely theoretical support.

Without the sealed heater and the vast quantities of ore provided selflessly by Shaman Baize, this experiment could never have succeeded.

Between theory, methodology, and objective conditions, he believed that in this experiment, the objective conditions were of greater importance.

Swearing in his father's name was, in Reshman culture, no less significant than swearing an oath to the gods; in ancient clans that valued honor, ancestors held a status nearly equal to that of the divine.

Kas's serious expression moved Kaike, who hung his head in deep guilt and walked before his "son":

"My apologies, I had to confirm this... This is the long-cherished wish of the Larona Clan.

Since you have sworn in the name of Malik Axe-Breaker, my will shall never change. After I die, you shall inherit my wealth, slaves, and honor."

Having settled Kas for the moment, Kaike's ambition could no longer be suppressed, and he gazed at the shaman with fanatical eyes:

"Baize, before we march south to plunder, how many more Radel can you create?"

"The ore reserves are exhausted, and the equipment is broken."

"There is still a large stock in the Blood-Ash Furnace warehouse! The equipment can be made immediately!"

Baize displayed a faint, mocking smile, showing no fear of the intense pressure radiating from Kaike:

"Kaike, I have suggested many times that we trade with the Southerners for rare minerals, yet you only care about filling the Blood-Ash Furnace with more slaves.

The materials in the warehouse are almost entirely black steel that requires sacrificial victims. Every alchemy association of the Southerners has imposed a trade embargo on the Black Ember Tribe; how do you expect me to create a Radel?"

"By the gods, you really should..." The fist of the War Chief landed near the tip of the shaman's nose; he very much wanted to teach this opinionated shaman a lesson.

Perhaps other war chiefs would fear a shaman who symbolized divine authority, but the Black Ember were different; they relied on the Blood-Ash Furnace for survival, and the role of the sorcerer-smith far outweighed that of the shaman.

But for now, until he extracted the method of creating the Radel from Baize's lips, the War Chief still had to respect the shaman's will.

His gloomy face cleared in an instant, as if everything just now had been a joke, and he patted the shaman's shoulder:

"Of course, list the raw materials you need, and I will personally take everything from the lands of the Southerners." A cruel smile, perhaps foreshadowing that a catastrophe was about to arrive in the warm south.

He gripped the Radel, which symbolized power and the future, and without asking for Baize's opinion, prepared to place it into the red velvet-lined wooden box held by his confidant.

"Wait, I promised Kas that I would use that smaller Radel to make him a weapon for self-defense on the journey back to Ferode Canyon."

Baize grabbed Kaike's arm, their faces so close they were nearly touching, and he emphasized his words with a heavier tone:

"He is the son of your blood-sworn brother, Malik Axe-Breaker."

Kaike's face turned somewhat sinister, the muscles in his fur-wrapped arms bulging inch by inch.

In the Sorrow Mountains, reputation was sometimes more important than strength or wealth.

He had just drawn up his will, leaving everything to Kas upon his death; although there were countless ways to manipulate that, a more important matter remained—winter was coming.

The Black Ember was considered a large tribe, yet compared to the vast plains of the south, their manpower still seemed thin.

War chiefs who truly wanted to make a splash during a southern raid would often send invitations to nearby tribes, forming a massive warband to invade the south.

Blood-Fire might have been a blood-sworn brother to Axe-Breaker, but his reputation was far less renowned than the dueling killers of the Zagwell Clan; if the tribal shaman promised a weapon to a descendant of the Zagwell Clan and he, as War Chief, chose to renege, it would invite criticism and even earn him the nickname of a miser.

He tried several times to shake off Baize's hand; after all, this small piece of Radel might be enough to keep the Blood-Ash Furnace running for a long time.

But Kaike had a change of heart: if he gifted a precious weapon to Axe-Breaker's son, it would not only win him the reputation of defending the honor of his blood-sworn brother, but also allow him to test the performance of the "pirated" Radel.

Why not do it?

"Hmm... Of course, the Great Shaman has bestowed a sacred duty upon Kas, and we must ensure he returns safely to Ferode Canyon.

Kulan, find all the slaves, light the furnace fires, and ask the forge-hammer to personally craft the best black steel for Kas!"

"No." Baize shook his head, taking the finger-thick Radel from the red velvet silk of the wooden box:

"I will personally craft a weapon for Kas. Don't forget, before I succeeded as shaman, I was the best blacksmith in the tribe."

The shaman ignored the War Chief's mercurial expression, walked up to Kas, smiled imperceptibly, and then immediately turned serious:

"Kas, what kind of weapon do you want? A battle-axe? A sword? Or perhaps a spear capable of piercing the heart of a mammoth."

Kas knew this was a game of chess between the War Chief and the shaman.

Looking at it solely from the perspective of the Black Ember Tribe, neither side was actually wrong.

The War Chief hoped to see the Black Ember return to the glory they held before the Comet Rebellion, believing it worth any amount of blood and sacrifice.

The shaman, meanwhile, was holding fast to the moral bottom line of a spiritual leader; he knew the cruelty of the Blood-Ash Furnace and believed that continuing to raise the temperature of the furnace fires would plunge the tribe into the abyss.

This was the divergence between militarism and theocracy—whether to discard morality and ethics to achieve ultimate military power, or to uphold the moral bottom line set by the gods and maintain the ethical foundation of society.

In Kas's eyes, he leaned more toward the approach of Shaman Baize; sacrificing an unborn son to the Blood-Ash Furnace was simply too extreme.

Although shamans are mostly charlatans who use religious mystery to monopolize knowledge, they simultaneously curb the spread of superstition, provide basic education to the people, and consolidate a social ethics structure that is otherwise incredibly fragile.

"The battle axe, it feels more natural to hold... but I do not wish to use Blood-Forged Black Steel. Ferode Canyon is not quite suited to the grim atmosphere of Iron Peak Mountain. If I were to return to the tribe carrying Blood-Forged Black Steel, the Old Shaman would chase me out."

Her Tribe... is relatively moderate, consistently opposing rituals that involve human sacrifice, provided that one does not offend the few great oak trees beloved by the Old Shaman.

This reason was sufficient enough, yet it only made Kaike increasingly displeased, and he shook his head several times.

He believed that whether it was Malik or Kas, they were both far too soft and unable to accept the sacrifices necessary to obtain power.

Baize smiled with satisfaction, his fingers winding around Kas's shoulder as his arm gestured, mentally mapping out the appropriate blueprints.

He would craft a satisfactory weapon for the one who brought hope to the Black Ember Tribe.

"Give me a few days... Kas the Great Wise One, son of Malik Axe-Breaker."