CHAPTER 199: CHAPTER 185: TRIBAL SECRETS_2

Because the survival of the tribe was at stake, and the strength of the Spirit of the Wilderness had a direct positive correlation with the tribe’s power, they only worshipped their own Spirit of the Wilderness. In any case, the Barbarian Tribes were not interested in the gods of the mainland, even looking down on them with considerable disdain.

"So, what is your tribe’s Spirit of the Wilderness?"

"Ours is the Ancestral Spirit, not some common mutt or stray cat."

Some Barbarian Tribes harbored hatred towards each other even deeper than their hatred for the Empire, and Boudica displayed a discriminatory attitude when speaking of this.

Lance hadn’t even considered ancestor worship as an option; no wonder Boudica often shouted about the "Ancestral Spirit."

"Then, do you know of a tribe that worships the White Wolf as their Spirit of the Wilderness?"

"The Fang Wolf Tribe. They rear a type of white wolf to assist them in hunting and killing. According to the Elders, their chieftain, Warwolf, seized power by directly challenging and defeating the previous leader. Immediately after taking office, he led the tribe’s warriors to attack the Deerhead Tribe, plundering a large amount of resources and slaves, and thus secured the support of the tribespeople."

As Boudica spoke of this, her expression became serious, and her entire body tensed.

"A greedy raider, but undeniably powerful. More importantly, this Warwolf is very young. The Elders say that even further progression for him isn’t impossible."

Boudica seemed somewhat worried. Was it simple fear of the powerful, or was she concerned her own tribe might be affected?

Lance’s expression turned a bit odd upon hearing this. Damn it, could this Head Wolf be the previous chieftain driven out by Warwolf? No wonder he possessed the White Wolf Scroll, something clearly related to the tribe’s heritage. Plus, the Extraordinary Equipment he wore was notably luxurious; one could feel its power just by seeing the spiritual light swirling around it.

Lance made a quick deduction: Head Wolf, driven out of his tribe, had no choice but to lead his loyal followers to survive as mercenaries in the Empire. He must have somehow offended someone, gotten severely beaten, and then ended up in his hands. Yes, that seemed very likely.

Lance had experienced Head Wolf’s strength firsthand. Even after successive fierce battles and being shot multiple times, Head Wolf could still shatter Reynard’s armor with a single blow, sending him flying. All the while, he wielded several Barbarian Secret Techniques, from battle cries to berserker rages. If it weren’t for Lance’s own abnormal ability to instantly heal both himself and Reynard from serious injuries, the fight might not have been won so easily. And what kind of strength must this Warwolf, who defeated Head Wolf, possess? It was easy to imagine.

It had to be said, even as confident as Lance was, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure. The game had never mentioned the slightest bit of information about these barbarians. His knowledge of the Mountain Barbarian Tribe relied solely on Boudica’s accounts, which were rather superficial. But those guys probably wouldn’t come down from their mountains to appear within the Empire’s territory, and the Empire surely wouldn’t allow a Barbarian Tribe to grow unchecked. He was probably overthinking things.

Lance noticed Boudica was lost in her thoughts and decided to change the subject.

"What about you? What was your life like in the tribe?"

"Me?"

They didn’t cultivate land. Their main food source was wildlife hunted by the tribe’s warriors, supplemented by berries and wild vegetables gathered by the women. These were used to brew fruit wine that, according to her, had a special fruity aroma.

For Boudica, her days mostly consisted of training and fighting. To her, the happiest moments were when the warriors returned from a hunt with meat and wine; those homemade fruit wines were intoxicating to her. Beyond that, leisure activities were scarce—it was either fighting or being on the way to a fight.

Due to the harsh mountain environment, all children had to undergo rigorous training from a young age. There was no distinction between male and female; only the strength of one’s fist mattered. Boudica showed extraordinary talent among her peers, maintaining her dominance over others even as they matured physically. Anyone who questioned her had to face her fists. To some extent, such experiences bred her domineering habit of settling issues with her fists.

All children in the tribe had to complete a rite of passage, which involved venturing alone into the wilderness to kill a wild beast. The power of the beast often correlated with the strength of the hunter. Therefore, everyone aspired to hunt increasingly powerful prey.

The average tribal warrior’s rite of passage might involve something like a Forest Wolf, but she had found a Fierce Beard Lion...

"The big guy left me this." Boudica turned, lifting her tunic to reveal three claw scars on her taut, wheat-colored abdomen, alongside her well-defined abs.

Lance looked at the scars and could imagine how dire the situation had been; a little deeper, and her guts would have been spilled.

"But in the end, I carried that big guy back! All those whelps who doubted me had nothing to say!" Boudica declared, seemingly unconcerned about her injuries, appearing carefree and even somewhat boastful.

Lance had to admit, that was kind of cool. Scars were a woman’s medals of honor. More accurately, they were symbols of strength.

"And what about the marks on your face?"

"This? It’s our tribe’s Secret Technique, and this war tattoo of mine is the strongest among my peers in the tribe!" Boudica added, a boastful tone in her voice.

Lance immediately picked up on a question. "If there are different qualities of war tattoos, then why don’t you hunt those powerful beasts together instead of going out to kill them alone? Wouldn’t the resulting war marks be even stronger? Or is there some tactic where the chieftain picks a beast, fights it until it’s nearly dead, and then leaves it for their son? Does anything like that happen?"