Mad Dog

"Chiman, what are you doing?!"

Some of the tribal chiefs seemed to sense what was coming and shouted fiercely, though their bravado was hollow.

Squelch!

The longsword pierced one tribal chief's chest without resistance. Gushing blood splattered all over Chiman.

"Chiman! You dare kill us?"

Squelch!

Chiman answered the challenge with action, killing another tribal chief in the blink of an eye.

The wooden hut instantly erupted. The remaining chiefs cursed furiously and struggled with all their strength.

But Chiman remained unmoved and walked up to the next tribal chief.

"Wait! Chiman, I'm willing to surrender! I'm willing to submit..."

Squelch!

Chiman swung his sword again, as though slaughtering a wild boar.

"You madman! You traitor! We already surrendered! Why are you still killing us?!"

Squelch!

"The warriors of the Longbeard Tribe will avenge me..."

Squelch!

The stench of blood spread and churned through the sealed wooden hut, mingling with the reek of fear-induced urine and feces to form an overwhelming odor that was almost suffocating.

It was just like a slaughterhouse.

"Butcher" Chiman was already covered in a thick layer of bloodstains, like a suit of crimson armor that inspired dread at a glance.

As one tribal chief after another was killed, the wooden hut gradually fell quiet.

Only one remained—the chief of the Blue-Skin Tribe, Chiman's maternal uncle, Liniya.

At this moment, Liniya no longer spoke. There was neither anger nor fear on his face.

Looking at his nephew standing before him, he spoke in an indifferent tone.

"Tell me. Why?"

Chiman, who had remained silent all this time, finally spoke as well.

His voice was hoarse, like rusted blades scraping together.

"For the future of the Wildlings."

"The future of the Wildlings?" Liniya, whose heart had already turned to ashes, suddenly grew furious again. "You are personally strangling the Wildlings' future!"

Chiman slowly shook his head.

"No. You are the ones standing in the way of the Wildlings' progress."

Liniya was momentarily stunned by such absurd words.

Chiman continued unhurriedly.

"We Wildlings are also descendants of the First Men and the Andals. Fundamentally, we are not much different from the Reachmen. Yet after thousands of years, the Reachmen have built over a hundred castles, fed tens of millions of people, and raised countless powerful armies. But what about us Wildlings?

We keep company with beasts and ignorance, divided into hundreds and thousands of tribes large and small, fighting one another over laughable scraps of land and prey. But after fighting for so long, what have we gained?

Do we not still only dare hide in the Red Mountains? When we occasionally come down to raid, do we not still flee at the mere sight of the Reachmen's regular army?

Tell me, Uncle, even if I joined you in driving the Reachmen out of the Red Mountains this time, what then?

We would only return to how things were before, trapped forever in the mire of savagery, ignorance, and backwardness."

Liniya sneered.

"And becoming a dog for the Reachmen can change the future of the Wildlings?"

Chiman paid no heed to the insult in his uncle's words and replied in the same calm tone.

"At the very least, it is the best chance to shatter the barriers between the tribes and unite all the Wildlings of the Red Mountains."

"Even so, the future 'King of the Wildlings' will be that Reach noble, while you will merely be one of his mad dogs!"

"If it can free the Wildlings from the mire of savagery and ignorance, then what does it matter if I become a mad dog?"

Liniya fell silent.

At the very end of his life, he seemed to finally understand his nephew.

Of course, understanding did not mean forgiveness.

Liniya could not forgive what Chiman had done, but by now, he knew he could no longer stop his nephew.

He did not know whether Chiman's actions would lead the Wildlings into a glorious future or an even more hopeless abyss.

But Liniya suddenly felt that perhaps the Wildlings truly needed a different kind of leader.

"Do not become a mad dog." Liniya suppressed the hatred and fury in his heart, his tone turning earnest. "The Reachmen told you to kill us, didn't they? By killing us, you will earn the hatred of the people from thirteen tribes. When you kill more people in the future, the blood on you will only pile higher and higher, until the whole world becomes your enemy. So, Chiman, restrain your thirst for killing! Otherwise, before the Wildlings can welcome a bright future, you yourself will have already fallen into the abyss."

Chiman tugged at the corner of his mouth, his expression somewhat strange.

"I am already in the abyss, Uncle."

"It is not too late yet," Liniya urged. "The Red Mountains are still vast. If you stop now, there is still time. The future of the Wildlings needs you."

But Chiman shook his head. "It is too late. I am one who murdered his own kin. I no longer have a future."

Liniya froze. Then he thought of his brother-in-law's death, and his face changed dramatically.

"You killed your own father?!"

"And my brothers." Chiman stepped forward, and the blood-red longsword in his hand pierced Liniya's chest. "And now, one more uncle."

Liniya let out a furious roar. Blood poured continuously from his mouth, but there was little hatred in his eyes. Instead, they held boundless sorrow.

"You... why... would you do something... so forsaken by the gods..."

Chiman watched his uncle gasp in pain without expression and said flatly.

"I once prayed devoutly to the gods as well, but I never received an answer. So I decided to offer my soul to the devil."

Liniya seemed to struggle to say something more, but his shattered heart could no longer support his body. After spitting out one final mouthful of blue blood, his head finally slumped to one side, and he went still.

Chiman stared blankly at his uncle's corpse for a long while, no one knew what he was thinking.

Only after the shouts of battle outside had completely died down did he turn and walk to the door, opening the wooden door that had been locked shut.

Whoosh—

The cool night wind blew straight at him, but it could not stir Chiman's hair, already covered in congealed blood.

"Chiman, where is Lord Liniya?"

"And where is our Longbeard Tribe chief?"

"And our chief? The battle is over, and we have already surrendered. You can let them out now, can't you?"

Faced with the captives' questioning, Chiman remained silent.

Only when they saw the blood covering Chiman's entire body did their expressions change. They began cursing furiously, and some even tried to rush forward and fight him to the death.

The soldiers hurried forward to stop them. They even killed several of the most violent troublemakers before extinguishing the prisoners' riot in its infancy.

Just then, Samwell entered the camp, surrounded by soldiers.

The Wildling captives gradually quieted down as well, turning their gazes toward the Reach noble who was about to decide their fate.

Samwell first glanced at Chiman from afar. Then a warm smile appeared on his face, and beneath the captives' hopeful or fearful gazes, he announced in a ringing voice.

"All those willing to submit, I will pardon you from death!"

The captives fell silent for a moment before erupting into cheers.

"Thank you, merciful lord!"

"We are willing to submit!"

"We are willing to serve!"

Chiman watched Samwell accept the crowd's cheers and adoration, his eyes complicated.

Beneath the orange firelight, the young Reach noble seemed to radiate a holy glow.

While he could only stand alone in a cold, shadowy corner, giving off an air that men and ghosts alike would despise.

Chiman gave a self-mocking laugh and shook his head. Then he abruptly pressed his right hand to his chest and shouted.

"Loyalty to the greatest Caesar!"

"The greatest Caesar!"

"Caesar!"

"Caesar!"

"Caesar!"

The cheers rose higher and higher, sweeping through the mountain forest like a gale.