CHAPTER 231: CHAPTER 193: FANG WOLF TRIBE_2

In front of the idol lay a jumbled heap of items: shattered stone statues, torn beast-hide banners, broken animal bones, and charred totem carvings. These were all Spirits of the Wilderness from defeated tribes, every one of them sacrificed to the Wolf God.

Most of the dwellings within the tribe were leather tents; the slightly better ones were wooden houses. The only stone-built house stood beside this ancient tree. Only the Wizard serving the Wolf God could reside here permanently.

"Why have you summoned me back?" Warwolf shouted towards the house, while the Giant Wolf beside him lay down, its head bowed. Before this door, even the proud Wolf King had to lower its head. Warwolf’s tone was far from friendly; indeed, he didn’t even offer a greeting before bluntly asking his question. He had been out hunting but had to return prematurely upon hearing the tribe’s call, missing out on further spoils as a result.

"I said... before any action... you must consult with me..." Words uttered with a strange, staccato inflection rang out as the door opened, and an elder wrapped in beast hides stepped out. His head was crowned with a bizarre helmet fashioned from a wolf’s head, his entire face framed perfectly within the wolf’s maw. Various unidentifiable trinkets adorned his body, and he held a staff topped with a carved wooden wolf’s head.

"THUD!" The old Wizard’s walking stick struck the ground as he sternly rebuked, "Who allowed you to lead the tribal warriors to provoke those caravans?" His raspy voice carried an authority accumulated over time, instilling even Warwolf with a tinge of awe. But that didn’t mean Warwolf would back down. On the contrary, he was fed up with these weak old men, which was why he had overthrown the previous chief. Only he could lead the tribe to glory!

"The hatred persists in my heart! The invaders must pay!" Warwolf’s roar imbued the entire area with a savage, bloody aura.

The old Wizard looked at the ferocious Warwolf without a hint of fear, instead scolding him sharply.

"Our tribe may look impressive now, but such rampant plundering is bound to rally the surrounding tribes against us.

"Many from those smaller tribes we conquered have fled to the forests, not to mention that the genius of the Deerhead Tribe has also vanished into the woods.

"And those caravans, do you think they just boldly enter the Mountains to trade without any backing? They are Messengers between the major tribes and the various countries of the continent.

"If they unite against us, we will be unable to resist. So why provoke them?"

"Then I will lead the tribal warriors to kill all enemies! The Wolf God will witness my bravery!" Warwolf bellowed forcefully, showing no fear of any enemy.

The old Wizard, looking at his defiance, knew Warwolf’s thoughts well, yet still revealed the reason he had been summoned. "Three days ago, the Wolf God told me that a Wolf King with an awakened bloodline has appeared."

Upon hearing this, Warwolf couldn’t help but glance at the white wolf beside him. Could there really be a wolf with a stronger bloodline than his own? After all, this one had accompanied him in challenges, defeating the previous Wolf King and absorbing its bloodline.

The old Wizard’s speech continued, his words implying the tribe was now without retreat.

"You possess the greatest talent seen in the tribe in decades and are the most likely to ascend to the Legendary rank. To advance further, you must find this new Wolf King. I will then conduct a bloodline advancement ceremony for you.

"Either you ascend to Legendary, assimilate the spoils from the recent raids, and lead the tribe to grow and become a major tribe again.

"Or we will face their vengeance and, like the tribes we have exterminated, become sacrifices to other deities."

"Hmph! Tell me where it is, and I shall retrieve it and offer it to the Wolf God."

The old Wizard certainly noticed the young chief’s disdain and couldn’t help but remind him, "You didn’t defeat your father because you were truly stronger than him, but because the Wolf God chose you, because *I* chose you."

"I don’t need you to remind me of that." Warwolf showed no intention of further discussion. Though his gaze lifted slightly, it revealed his impatience. "Tell me the location."

"Bring me ten prisoners of war, and I will commune with the Wolf God for you."

The old Wizard watched Warwolf walk away.

The Fang Wolf Tribe had once been a formidable power, but it had fallen into decline during battles with the invaders. Forced to migrate—or rather, flee—they had remained in this state for several decades. The previous chief, Head Wolf, had endured past hardships. He was comparatively conservative, as patient as a wolf, and had successfully helped the Fang Wolf Tribe recover from its suffering. Yet, to truly revive the tribe, a much stronger chief was needed. For that reason, he, the Wizard, had chosen Warwolf, the most talented in the tribe.

But once Warwolf became chief, he blindly initiated wars, plundering and slaughtering wildly. The tribe indeed grew rapidly in a short time, but the problem was that its tribal warriors were being depleted, its internal wounds hidden behind the revelry. At the same time, external enmities continuously accumulated, offending almost everyone and dragging the entire tribe towards ruin.

At this moment, he even missed Head Wolf’s mature and steady nature, momentarily unsure if his earlier choice had been correct. But things had already come to this point; all that remained was to continue down this path...

Each Spirit of the Wilderness has different preferences, so their rituals also vary significantly. For example, the Fang Wolf Tribe prefers conducting various ceremonies at night, much like wolves that roam in the darkness.

Surrounding the altar under the great tree stood a circle of Barbarian Tribe warriors; all who qualified to be there were the elite of the tribe. Ten bound prisoners of war were dragged over. They weren’t weak or sickly; on the contrary, they were all captured in battle. The cowardly and submissive had already become slaves; these were defiant warriors, no ordinary captives.

From their appearances and various adornments, it was clear that most were from other tribes, with not a single Imperial Person to be seen. This was understandable, as the Fang Wolf Tribe’s sphere of activity was not within the Empire; their recent wars had mainly targeted surrounding tribes.

"Choose your adversaries. The winners will survive."

Though these prisoners were not from the Fang Wolf Tribe, upon seeing the ritual scene, they seemed to understand: they would become sacrifices, meant to please the Spirit of the Wilderness through combat and bloodshed.

"I volunteer!" A young warrior, perhaps only twelve or thirteen years old, stepped forward, his face filled with grief and anger. He must avenge his deceased family with the blood of these murderers!

The spectating warriors showed little interest in the boy, but in recognition of his courage, a Barbarian Tribe warrior carrying a Spear stepped forward. Someone among the onlookers tossed a weapon to the youth as well—another Spear.

The youth didn’t refuse. Instead, the moment he caught the weapon, he exploded into action, charging at his enemy. Far from feeling afraid, his imprisonment had only fueled the anger smoldering within him; he had to make these fiends pay!

The Spears collided in a thrust, and the battle began. But it ended quickly; a momentary burst of rage was destined to fall short.

The warrior pulled his Spear from the youth’s chest. Looking at the boy, still twitching and not yet dead, he felt little emotion and, preoccupied, continued the ritual. He cut off both hands, then split open the chest, extracted the still-beating heart, and offered up these three items.

The hands were offered because, according to legend, the Wolf God had fought another deity and bitten off one of their hands; sacrificing an enemy’s hands was meant to praise the Wolf God’s strength. The heart, on the other hand, represented a creature’s source of vitality and power, a material used in many rituals. On the battlefield, they would even devour an enemy’s heart, believing it would grant them greater power.

The youth’s death did not frighten the remaining warriors; instead, it incensed them. One after another, they stood up to issue challenges. At that moment, only a fight to the death was conceivable; how could they even speak of surrender!