North of the North Sea, at the Great Wall, Huang Feihu had already sent men to build a raised platform for the alliance assembly.
The usual rule applied: if supplies ran short, ask his old man at Jiepai Pass for more. As long as he could pay them back, it was fine.
Tu Fang and Gui Fang were not the only tribes north of Great Shang. There were many more small, unnamed nomadic tribes, and their lives were even harder than those of Gui Fang.
The leaders of some fifty tribes, large and small, waited there, headed by the Gong Fang Chieftain.
In truth, few of them sincerely wished to submit. After all, they lived far from Great Shang's borders and had had no dealings with it for decades.
But what choice did they have?
Su Quanzhong had pursued the remnants of Tu Fang led by Wu Li all the way north. Wu Li had gone too far, trying to use these small tribes as shields as he fled from one little nomadic tribe to another.
As Su Quanzhong chased him, all sorts of clashes had broken out.
After all, his men could not tell Tu Fang apart from the other tribes!
In the eyes of the Shang Army's soldiers, these barbarians all looked alike. Their clothes were all crudely worked animal hides, too. There was simply no telling them apart.
What did they do when they could not tell them apart? Beat them up while they were at it.
The result was that the small northern nomadic tribes had been beaten until even their parents would not recognize them. Especially by that giant several men tall-damn it, he pulled up tents like he was picking mushrooms. Who could stand against that?
To replenish the supplies used up during the