Blocking the Entrance

"Ah!"

A scream rang out as a steel trap pierced the left foot of a Tuwu soldier searching the woods for livestock.

Blood trickled down the trap, gradually staining the ground red.

Seeing their companion injured, the Tuwu soldiers accompanying him hurried over to check on him. One of them accidentally triggered a mechanism, and a sharp iron spike pierced his thigh.

Another howl of pain rang out through the woods.

At the sight, all the Tuwu soldiers stopped in unspoken agreement, carefully checking the woods for possible traps.

By the time they had cleared the dangers, the two unlucky men injured earlier had already passed out from blood loss.

"You four, carry them back and ask the priest to treat them."

Seeing the casualty count rise by two, the Tuwu officer leading the group issued the order.

Treatment was merely an excuse to reassure the troops.

The flaming bulls' charge through the camp had left the army with a huge number of wounded, and the priests simply couldn't attend to them all.

Even when they did provide treatment, they gave priority to those with minor injuries. For severely wounded men like these, they would simply dress their wounds and leave it at that.

Whether they survived would depend entirely on how tough they were.

Divine magic could indeed pull someone back from the brink of death, but the price was a permanent loss of vitality.

Many who suffered severe injuries aged ten or twenty years in an instant after receiving divine treatment.

They seemed to have escaped death, but in truth, they had drawn closer to it.

"Big brother, the enemy has laid an ambush in the woods. Our lost cattle, sheep, and horses have probably already fallen into enemy hands.

"If we keep searching, we're unlikely to find anything, and we could easily walk into an enemy ambush.

"Why don't we rest for a while, then withdraw?"

The hawk-eyed man beside him spoke up, trying to persuade him.

Jungle warfare wasn't their strong suit. Fighting the enemy in a godforsaken place like this was no way to look after their own lives.

As a local, he knew how miserable the fates of his two good neighbors had been.

If they hadn't foolishly entered the Dragonbone Mountains and lost troops there, the Goshawk Tribe and the Cors Tribe might not have been able to defeat the enemy, but they wouldn't have been wiped out.

"If we don't search deeper, how are we supposed to answer to the ten-thousand-man commander?"

Armstrong said, looking troubled.

If he had a choice, he truly didn't want to venture into the mountain valleys, but military orders were absolute.

They had been out for so long and had nothing to show for it. There was no way they could explain that.

"Simple. We deliberately slow down.

"If we find the lost cattle and sheep, all the better. If not, we'll have done our best. In any case..."

Before he could finish, another scream rang out through the woods.

This time, however, the unlucky victim wasn't in their group. Someone on the neighboring hill had fallen prey instead.

"Who told you to fight each other?"

"Wasn't last night's tragedy enough of a warning?"

In the canyon, Ten-Thousand-Man Commander Jeremiah had rounded up the tribal chiefs and was giving them a furious scolding.

The army had already suffered heavy losses, yet these men still had the mind to fight among themselves.

Last night's great losses had certainly resulted from the flaming bulls' charge and the livestock stampede it caused, but infighting had also played a considerable part.

Judging from the wounds on the dead, at least a thousand people had been killed by blades. That could never be explained away as a simple accident.

Though he knew full well that some had secretly attacked their own side, Ten-Thousand-Man Commander Jeremiah had chosen to turn a blind eye for the sake of the army's unity.

Every tribe had taken part, and even if he uncovered the truth, there would be no way to deal with it.

He had never expected that, far from reining themselves in, these people would grow even worse.

The clash just now had been sparked by a single sheep.

Both sides insisted it belonged to their own tribe, and neither was willing to give ground. The resulting fight had left seven dead and eighteen injured.

Anyone with eyes could see that this was hardly about a sheep. It was plainly a continuation of their grudges.

Deep conflicts had already existed between the tribes, and last night's chaos had merely brought those hidden conflicts into the open.

There was no way to keep their attacks on one another secret.

Amid the chaos, those who were outnumbered could only choose to flee, but their hatred remained.

Once they found the main force, those unwilling to let the matter go stirred others up and gathered a group of their fellow tribesmen to take revenge.

The dispute over the sheep was merely an excuse to start fighting. At its core, it was about revenge.

"Respected Ten-Thousand-Man Commander Jeremiah, this has nothing to do with us.

"We found the sheep first. The shameless Black Bear Tribe actually dared to try to snatch it, and that's what started the conflict.

"In that brawl just now, our Black Wolf Tribe lost five whole men!"

Tristan couldn't help lodging a complaint.

As the side targeted for revenge, they had been outnumbered and had suffered badly in the fight.

Now, instead of upholding justice, the commander was treating both sides as equally guilty. Tristan could no longer contain his anger.

On the grasslands, the strong preyed on the weak. Backing down would only make their enemies more arrogant.

"Tristan, stop lying through your teeth! Five of your men died because they weren't skilled enough!"

"You were clearly the ones who started that fight..."

Lancaster promptly shot back.

Whatever the truth was, there was no way he could admit in front of everyone that his tribe was responsible.

Once blame was clearly assigned, enforcing the army's rules would mean bloodshed.

If he handed over the tribesmen who had taken part in the fight, his time as the tribe's great elder would be over.

"Enough!"

"I don't have time to stand here and argue with you. Get back and reflect on what you've done!"

"From now on, if a fight breaks out in camp, every participant will be executed, no matter whose fault it is!"

Ten-Thousand-Man Commander Jeremiah finally lost his temper.

Compared with the enemy outside, the danger within was even more troubling.

Both sides stuck to their own stories, and with all the tribal chiefs present, he couldn't easily decide what had happened.

Since he couldn't solve the problem, he would deal with the people causing it.

He had no time to investigate the truth behind the conflict, so he simply wouldn't investigate. He would deal directly with everyone who had taken part in the fight.

"Yes, sir!"

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir!"

The others answered listlessly. It was clear that none of them were satisfied with the outcome.

They didn't openly object because they were worried Ten-Thousand-Man Commander Jeremiah would seize on it as a pretext to make an example of them.

The disturbance had subsided for the time being, but the divisions within the allied army grew even worse.

The most direct sign was that the tribes began outwardly obeying orders while secretly defying them when carrying out their assignments.

Time flew, and three days had passed since the flaming bulls burned the camp.

As the victors, the Third Supplementary Army had moved its command camp from deep in the mountains back to the grasslands, right outside the canyon entrance.

"Commander, the Tuwu people in the canyon are all cowards hiding in their shells. No matter how we provoke them, they won't come out.

"The enemy has stationed a large force at the opening, so it won't be easy to charge in, either.

"Continuing this standoff probably isn't a solution. Why don't we look around the surrounding area for a way?"

Felix proposed.