Time seemed to slow to a crawl at that moment.
"Bloodaxe" Ragnar's body went rigid.
His crimson eyes widened as he lowered his head in disbelief.
He stared at the longsword that had pierced his chest.
A wave of numbness exploded from the wound, instantly spreading through his body and violently stripping away his control over it.
"Poi... son?"
"Hh... hh..."
Ragnar opened his mouth, trying to let out one last roar.
But all that escaped his throat was air mixed with bloody froth.
His vaunted strength and his body, as powerful as a great bear's, seemed so fragile at that moment.
Lynn's gaze turned ruthless.
He sharply twisted his wrist.
The longsword churned savagely through Ragnar's warm flesh.
It completely destroyed his heart.
"Aah!"
The excruciating pain tore a short, piercing scream from Ragnar.
The ferocity in his eyes rapidly faded.
Lynn yanked out his longsword.
Warm blood sprayed out like a fountain, splashing all over his hand.
Ragnar's towering body swayed.
Then he toppled straight backward with a crash.
He slammed into the ground, sending snow and ice flying.
[Wildling chief killed x1. Experience +5]
The system's cold notification rang out in his mind right on cue.
Lynn glanced at his panel.
Killing a chief had actually earned him five experience points!
Sure enough, the stronger his opponent, the more experience he gained from killing him!
Lynn suppressed his delight, then suddenly felt a slight numbness in his hand.
He frowned at the blood on his hand.
This poison is still too potent. Even the enemy's blood can cause numbness, though thankfully, the lower concentration has weakened the effect considerably.
Looks like poison needs to be paired with ranged weapons.
Only then did he understand what Maester Aemon had meant by a double-edged sword.
Lynn took another moment to assess the sensation.
The paralytic poison did not take away the ability to feel pain. It only stripped away control of the body. It was viciously potent.
Then Lynn quickly wiped the blood clean with his clothes and swept his gaze around.
The Wildlings who were still stubbornly resisting had watched their strongest leader get slaughtered like livestock.
The last trace of fighting spirit in their eyes was extinguished.
"The chief is dead!"
"Ragnar is dead!"
Someone let out a desperate scream in the Wildlings' tongue.
The entire tribe's morale collapsed in an instant.
The Wildlings dropped their weapons.
They fled frantically out of the valley, wailing like a herd of startled beasts.
"Don't let them get away!"
Lynn's voice thundered out.
These are all walking experience points!
Besides, they were sworn enemies of the Night's Watch. In the original story, the Night's Watch beheaded or hanged any Wildlings they captured.
The Wildlings were even crueler when they caught men of the Night's Watch, usually chopping them up to feed to their livestock.
The two sides fought to the death. Showing mercy would mean failing his own men.
The units led by Torrhen and Harvey closed in from both flanks.
The archers also emerged from concealment, nocking arrows and drawing their bows at the fleeing figures.
A chase and slaughter unfolded throughout the chaotic camp.
With their fighting spirit broken, the Wildlings stood no chance against the well-equipped, high-spirited soldiers of the North.
The battle soon ended.
Apart from a handful of prisoners, not a single Wildling remained standing anywhere in the valley.
The air was thick with the stench of blood.
"My lord!"
Torrhen hurried over to Lynn, his face brimming with irrepressible excitement and admiration.
"We won! We wiped them all out!"
"What are our casualties?"
That was what concerned Lynn most.
"Only five men suffered minor injuries. No one was killed!"
Torrhen's voice was full of pride.
Their Lord Lynn was simply incredible.
Outnumbered, he had wiped out a tribe of five hundred Wildlings with just a hundred men, suffering almost no casualties!
Though it had been armored men against unarmored foes, this was still a tremendous victory!
The way every guard looked at Lynn had changed.
Their admiration and faith in his strength came straight from the heart.
[Your soldiers killed Wildlings x527. Experience +612]
"Raise One-Handed Sword to the next level!"
"Put everything left into Light Sword!"
[500 experience consumed. One-Handed Sword (proficient) 0 → 500. Required experience reached.] [One-Handed Sword (proficient) → (expert) 0/1000] [Total experience remaining: 160] [160 experience consumed. Light Sword (proficient) 0 → 160] [Light Sword (proficient) 160/500]
A vast surge of combat insights washed through Lynn's mind.
It was as though he had fought thousands of life-and-death battles. His understanding of One-Handed Sword leaped from skillful application to complete mastery.
The transfer of force, the choice of angles, the grasp of timing...
Everything became instinct.
"So this is expert level?"
Lynn murmured to himself, then issued his orders.
"Clean up the battlefield."
"Collect every weapon and anything of value."
The guards questioned the Wildlings, but the prisoners only glared at them with hatred and tried to bite them.
"Never mind. Even if we take these captured Wildlings back, Mormont will only execute them."
"Question them first. No torture, no abuse. Then give them a quick death!"
There was no other choice.
Everyone was watching him.
On one side were the Wildlings, their enemies; on the other were the Lord Commander's orders. The choice was obvious.
Releasing them would amount to aiding the enemy. If anyone let even a word slip after they returned, execution would be his only fate.
The pride of the First Men kept the Wildlings from submitting to the kings south of the Wall.
The feuds of their forebears and thousands of years of bloodshed had bred hatred that could not easily be dispelled.
At least at this stage, without pressure from the White Walkers, these Wildlings had no intention of heading south to escape them.
Only when the White Walkers closed in would they grow desperate.
That would be the crucial moment for reconciliation.
Lynn did want to bring them under his command, especially the Giantfolk, who would be practically unstoppable wielding huge tree trunks. But this was certainly not the time.
Before long, Lynn gained another forty-four experience points.
Then the guards began excitedly searching through the camp.
Lynn entered the enormous bearskin tent.
A powerful, rank stench hit him as soon as he stepped inside.
Who knew how long Ragnar had gone without washing himself? The smell was unbearable.
Animal hides lay scattered across the floor, and human skulls were piled in a corner.
These were clearly Ragnar's "trophies."
They had also been Lynn's fellow Crows.
Lynn frowned and began a careful search.
A tribal chief's tent ought to contain something worthwhile.
Soon, his gaze was drawn to a wooden chest beside the head of the fur-covered bed.
The chest was old and plain, with twisted runes inlaid in an unfamiliar metal.
Lynn pried open the clasp with his dagger.
There was no gold or silver inside, nor any of that wondrous Frostheart Grass.
There was only a rolled map made from tanned human skin and several black, stone-like pieces.
Lynn picked up the black stones.
They felt cold in his hand, yet were very light.
Their surfaces were smooth, like glass.
Dragonglass!
Lynn examined them more closely.
There's no doubt!
Lynn's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
This stuff is the bane of White Walkers!
In the coming battle of the Long Night, it will be worth as much as Valyrian steel!
He had never expected to find something so valuable in a Wildling chief's chest.
Forcing down his elation, Lynn carefully tucked the pieces of dragonglass inside his clothes.
Then he unrolled the human-skin map.
The map was crudely drawn with charred wood and an unidentified red liquid.
It depicted the terrain of the Haunted Forest and its surrounding regions.
Lynn could make little sense of most of it.
But at the center of the map, a symbol resembling an eye, drawn in red dye, instantly seized his full attention.
Beside the symbol was a line of small writing in the ancient tongue of the First Men.
Lynn could not read it.
But he knew this had to be important.
Perhaps it explained why Ragnar's tribe had come here.
They seemed to be searching for the place marked on the map.
"My lord!"
Torrhen's voice came from outside the tent.
"We found something!"
Lynn tucked the map securely against his body and stepped outside.
Several guards were gathered in front of a half-burned tent, talking among themselves.
Lynn walked over.
In the ruins of the tent, he saw several corpses.
But something was wrong with them.
Their eyes were an eerie, sapphire blue.
In the flickering firelight, those eyes stared eerily up at the gray sky.
Before you continue