Chapter 100: The Onslaught of the Werewolves!

Leo gradually began to discern the truth and couldn’t help but grow excited.

Sure enough, Bjorn gathered his thoughts and said, “Leo, as you said, the northern part of the Wolf Hunting Grounds has indeed fallen into chaos due to the invasion of the beastmen. Large-scale mixed tribes of different races have moved south, plunging the region into turmoil.”

“The Wolf Fang Tribe of Magna, located just north of the Shattered Stone Hills, has recently been repeatedly invaded by a mixed tribe of various races. Their numbers have rapidly grown, surpassing a thousand in a short time. The Wolf Fang Tribe cannot withstand their attacks and has been forced to migrate south to avoid them.”

Leo frowned and asked, “A mixed tribe? What kind of races are in this group?”

“It’s mainly gnolls, making up about seventy percent, with some wild boars and dog-headed men.”

Listening to Bjorn’s account, Leo fell into deep thought.

Individually, gnolls are slightly weaker than wild boars, with physical attributes comparable to the Northern humans. A standard gnoll warrior’s height, weight, and muscular strength rival those of Northern human infantry.

But individual combat power depends not only on physical qualities but also on combat skills, army morale, and military discipline.

Gnolls are notorious as the most ferocious race in the world, known to even eat their own kind. From birth to death, they live immersed in slaughter and battle.

Every adult gnoll, male or female, is a competent warrior. The combat skills and military discipline honed from a young age far surpass those of human militias trained for just a few years.

Their blood runs with a thirst for killing and a fanatical genetic drive, a fervor for combat and carnage that greatly enhances their fighting prowess.

Whether in war or duels, once a gnoll’s eyes turn red, they fight to the death, to determine victory or defeat, life or death. Every gnoll prides itself on devouring the brains of its foes.

Such a race clearly cannot coexist peacefully; they must be exterminated, driven away, or avoided at all costs.

The Wolf Fang Tribe of Magna numbers about two hundred, surrounded by similarly sized small alien tribes, most of which they can easily overpower.

Their growth is limited, but they manage to survive.

This is the norm in the wilderness, where tribes maintain a fragile dynamic balance, killing and hunting each other to uphold their territories.

This balance is extremely fragile, easily shattered by natural disasters or human calamities. Now, the beastmen invasion has disrupted it.

Displaced tribes lose their hunting grounds and are forced to migrate, attacking weaker tribes to secure food.

The weaker tribes are either assimilated or slaughtered.

The victors cannot rest, for war’s destruction and rising populations increase food consumption. Without agriculture or trade routes, the meat from hunting grounds cannot replenish overnight. They must launch new wars.

Once expansion begins, it never stops.

The victorious tribe grows larger, demands more territory, and faces increasingly complex enemies—until defeated by an even stronger group.

Like dominoes falling, the beastmen invasion, though only in a small corner of the northern Wolf Hunting Grounds, has sent shockwaves throughout the wilderness.

The entire power landscape has been reshuffled. Some previously hostile alien tribes have united under immense survival pressure to become victors.

Currently, the victors in the region north of the Shattered Stone Hills are the gnolls. Nearby alien tribes must either join them or be eaten.

Their strength has multiplied several times over a short period, pushing the Wolf Fang Tribe to the brink of extinction.

They now face a dire predicament: northward is a combined alien tribe of over a thousand pressing in, making defense hopeless.

To the south lies the end of the Wolf Hunting Grounds, the domain of the Empire.

Once the wild folk leave the forests, it is as if soldiers shed their armor, snails lose their shells; under the siege of Northern lords, they can only be reduced to slaves.

Magna can only seek help from their kin, the wild folk tribe hiding beneath the Great Waterfall.

Unfortunately, the Great Waterfall basin cannot accommodate so many people. Zulvan said it could only take in a hundred at most; more would upset the balance, and they would all starve together.

Bjorn proposed a suggestion: they might try their luck at the River Bay.

The lord of River Bay, unlike the imperial nobles they had met before, possesses a merciful heart that embraces many races and the courage and ambition to accept strangers.

Listening to Bjorn’s explanation, Leo asked seriously, “So, your friends from the Wolf Fang Tribe, Magna the Great Hunter, are you planning to join us at River Bay?”

Magna nodded, speaking stiffly in the Imperial tongue, “The Wolf Fang Tribe lives and dies as one. We do not want to split. We do not wish to go to the Great Waterfall but hope to join your settlement, with equal treatment—not slavery—and the right to leave at any time.”

In the North, cases of wild folk assimilation are not uncommon, but the outcomes are rarely good. Once the wild folk put down their bows under the lords’ promises, those promises quickly sour. Endless labor and increasingly harsh taxes await them.

The wild folk are not skilled in production, construction, or farming. If they cannot pay taxes or complete labor tasks, their people risk becoming slaves.

Many assimilated wild folk tribes, after a year or two, led by their chiefs, retreat back into the wilderness, bringing with them hatred toward the Empire and negative impressions of the imperial nobility.

If not for Bjorn’s willingness to vouch for them, Magna would never have considered coming to River Bay.

If necessary, they would abandon some of their old, weak, and womenfolk, letting them become wandering spirits in the forest to survive this difficult period.

“As you see, there are no slaves at River Bay! Even the dog-headed men have basic human rights. Everything you mentioned can be discussed!” Leo said confidently, clapping his hands. Turning to Ivan, he said, “Go fetch Old Wu. This is important!”

Ulyan was not as free as Leo. Most of his daylight hours were spent either helping villagers with spring sowing or supervising with Valery the new refugees across the river, guiding them in logging, building houses, and constructing military camps.

The wild folk joining River Bay—two hundred at once—is undoubtedly a significant event for the small principality.

And negotiations of this sort require someone as seasoned and cunning as Ulyan.

Though Leo had enough authority to decide, he was well aware of his own limitations.

Namely, he was not greedy, selfish, or stingy enough.

He was even prone to sacrificing his own interests for harmony.

To him, as long as things went well, suffering a little loss was no big deal.

Such a gentle nature and approach might be virtues in civilized society, but before barbarians, they are glaring weaknesses.

His past life’s experience taught him that even in civilized society, humanity is largely composed of barbarians; all the more so in a more primitive otherworld, where not everyone will bear such goodwill.

Therefore, one can give without expecting return, but losses must come with gains. What is ours must be kept for our own!

Now the wild folk are not yet our own; we must follow the rules. Once they integrate into River Bay and become kin, Leo can truly give them his heart.