Recently joined are four Grand Chieftains and three High Priests, all Counts in rank.
Some came from Great Corridor, others from Emerald Sea. Those from Emerald Sea all held the title of Jade Count, clearly superior to those from Great Corridor. The tallest, with a head full of vivid feathers, was the mightiest one among them — his aura of Deep Darkness even exceeded that of Eska, and there were hints that he approached the brink of breaking through to Marquis.
As Eska introduced each wolf warrior, they would step forward, kneel on one knee toward the direction of Qianye, placing a hand on their forehead, an utmost gesture of respect and reverence to their true ruler.
In this regard, wolves showed significantly more humility and loyalty to Qianye than even mercenary generals did. Even that fiery-haired chieftain, proud and lofty-looking as he was, maintained sincere demeanor during the ritual and only resumed his arrogant manner upon returning to his seat. Such behavior didn’t escape some generals’ noticing, causing uneasy feelings among them.
Once all new allied wolf warriors had been announced, Eska said, “His Majesty…”
Waving his hand to stop him, Qianye replied firmly, “That honorific is to be dropped entirely from now on.”
Eska seemed hesitant as he responded, “But among tribes, it’s a long-established custom… It’s difficult to control their usage given their ecstatic moods after such a monumental victory. And soon enough, won’t you achieve Duke status officially sooner or later anyway?”
Slightly frowning, Qianye answered, “Whatever lays ahead remains uncertain, but today, I yet earn neither the position nor the title so please let us do with it no more.”
“Yes…Lord Qianye.” Though it cost Eska some effort, his new address came finally. Continuing then, he announced: “They all carry with them firm intentions. In their homeland already, within ancestral temples where their forebears were called upon, they’ve each made room for Your Grace.”
Qianye could not suppress a strange look upon this, as placing a living person upon ancestral altars in Human traditions traditionally signified only the dead.
As if sensing his unease, Carolyn came close to Qianye’s ear and softly whispered, “Among the tribes who follow ancestral veneration amongst wolves, the enacting of your worship alongside ancient kings has long been the ultimate binding of faith. Far steadier than any sworn oath — provided naturally, you never descend from this newly-wrought throne.”
Thus the expression of the warlord hardened with a nod, knowing this act was more binding than any mere words — the kind of oath the wolf clans respected. Such a binding made betraying unlikely. Only when another king emerged might he be toppled and placed as past kings had—perhaps, even as Lord of Wraithbone.
These three tribes happened to be among the first Emerald Sea major clans to give pledges — and seemingly bore many hardships within Wraithbone’s domain themselves.
With his new wolf warriors, Qianye’s influence over Yunglu grew immensely. Yet employing this strength tactically remained no mean task either. At same time, halting further elevation onto ancestor altars within Great Corridor seemed an utterly lost cause.
Faith surpassed mere loyalty — nurturing it ensured fewer internal conflicts, surpassing fragile ink-bound pledges. This traditional force bore two faces after all. For the sake of harmony, Qianye reluctantly suppressed his personal discomfort.
Shifting attention next toward war tolls and ensuing restoration measures: Since the establishment of the half-wolf, half-human legions, emerald sea battle ranked largest, and bloodiest, campaign to date. Across entire battlefields, Great Corridor losses stood over 150 thousand in warriors slain and wounded while Xu Jingxuan’s personally trained recruits lost twice ten thousands alone — about half his newly-assembled host’s numbers.
As for emerald warriors, over three hundred thousands suffered loss. Their limited medical expertise meant thousands severely wounded still met their passing in days after the slaughter.
With Lord Wraithbone fallen, most emerald sea forces surrendered. At present, over four million prisoners lay captured, with few more thousands escaping amid the chaos into the wild.
Confirmed through interrogation: Within a day’s travel distance, remaining packs were en-route — together estimated tens of ten thousands across multiple clans. Upon news of this devastating defeat, they would undoubtedly flee home as well.
Ideal counterplan — immediately pursue and eradicate these retreating packs on their march, alleviating pressure from later subjugations across broader Emerald territories. Yet when observing around room Qianye found not even an unscathed commander present able to lead expedition. Worse still — managing nearly four million prisoners stood as more demanding priority lest unrest brew within.
Integration process of remaining emerald tribes, although intricate, proceeded smoothly. Without key core tribes present due to their total engagements led by the Wraithbone himself, only small peripheral bands escaped encirclement. Though their numbers might appear formidable — some 50 thousand in combined strength — dispersed far along distant flanks. Against even a remnant force led Qianye, they represented but scattered remnants ready for reaping — be it under his standard or even just the remnants of corridor or Xu’s regiments.
Further outer fringe tribes were summoned but couldn’t join the massed forces for varied challenges — long distances or insufficient rations prevented swift mobilization. Given enough patience such stragglers would eventually bow piecemeal over weeks or months.
Thus during the following days, Qianye convened countless meetings that often filled most daylight leaving no time for his spiritual refinement. Managing food supplies, accommodations and overseeing security measures among nearly four million warriors tested his patience — never expecting the logistical officers bore such burdens before.
One night session ended and Song Hui walked beside Qianye toward his personal chambers. Understanding she had words unspoken, Qianye shut the door behind them and awaited her thoughts solemnly.
“Why such devotion to these wolves? Surely you haven’t changed intentions towards them after all?”
“What choice might I have?” Sounding momentarily confused, she asked. Emerald together with Great Corridor numbered no fewer than twelve million wolves already gathered from the campaigns. Clearly integration stood favored. Left unchecked hostiles of such magnitude promised no peaceful slumber — nor easy victory even with arms raised.
Smiling slightly knowing her words often contained further depth Song Huo continued, observing calmly, “This is twelve million wolves. Remember history’s cruel lesson, they’ve endlessly raided Zheng strongholds generation after generation — not wanting war — merely unable to sustain such populations peacefully.”
Nodding thoughtfully in remembrance he continued, “Indeed…yet land barren for them holds plenty upon human care. Under the old lords they felled lands with raids only to find survival barely maintained. Oppression became sustenance when cultivation faltered.”
These tribes had lived in near-primeval states — hunting and raising beasts loosely without true knowledge of sustained planting methods. Even minor Zheng states dwarfed their agrarian knowledge. Yet within proper care, introducing high-yielding flora capable of adapting to local environment promised harvests doubling current capacities yearly if introduced early. Enough yield to sustain every beast in peace — not only grain for consumption, but nutritious fodder to improve livestock yield for warriors’ meat demand.
Only one transitional issue lay — this year. Now however with a reduction of hundreds of combat-thirsty legions their feeding pressure eased greatly as warriors, requiring four adult servings daily. Even idle effort would likely see them through until next harvest while trade with Empire during gaps was always an option.
But this was not where Song Hui led with, finally asking the critical blow, “Have you truly failed imagine this same stretch filled with humans in their place? What number supported?”
Surprised yet thoughtful — calculations spun anew within warlord’s mind as visions filled with possibilities. If land could support twenty million with his cultivation plan, then possibly upwards seventy or eighty million humans. Yet still the region challenged common human physiology — unrefined individuals perished quickly or lived half lifespans. Still from neutral territories or even empire’s edges, such settlements stood plausible.
Her words weighed heavy. Slowly frowning in discomfort, he replied grimly, “So your answer stands…mass execution or exile them — replacing wolves with man’s seed?”
“Just removal from lands desired; bloodshed perhaps spared through relocation.”
Qianye’s frown intensified further: for primitive beings uprooting their lives equated to genocide as well: during migrations half often died through disease, hunger under the open stars, leaving little real mercy in comparison.
“They will die regardless.” Qianye whispered. Even so — one million lives. Such weight could not simply be erased.”
“Their hearts shall twist against our kin always! Resources are finite — and every calorie poured to wolves is fewer for men! From the soil of the Empire, even ten thousand years back, none of it belonged to Man first!”
The midworld was rich and teeming — lands not void but taken by force, its first occupants long dust — a testament of Man’s birth from darkness through sheer conquest.
Knowing her words contained bitter history, blood of men and many dark kinds poured alike to reach this present day, Qianye fell into contemplation before finally breaking silence.
“I remember one belief — this world divided into only Light and Shadow, yet each species deserves survival here. Kill one tribe away — and only another, perhaps harsher, rises to replace, rendering mindless killing meaningless. Yunglu differs — from both Imperium and the Eternal Council. Perhaps — these willing servants may grant hope toward a new middle way?”
Pausing briefly before continuing, honest in conviction, he said, “Under such circumstances — I will not take their lives carelessly.”
Song Hui pressed: still skeptical, yet understanding he wasn’t swerving. Curious though, “They claim loyalty…what proofs exist? Evidence beyond mere oaths?”
“They paid with 200 thousand slain.”
At last, even she admitted weight. Nodding, she yielded. “…Acceptable. If later rebellion emerges — then?”
“Everything they deserve…I will give,” his voice softened before the end, “And if with all that…someone still betrays…well, I have not spared many creatures of the Dark who drew sword first. That you know.”
Satisfaction came. With deeper pondering she raised another question:
“Ultimately then — which light — The Dusk Accord or the Eternal Council shall rule this fledgling land? For all kings must align — whose war banner does this kingdom raise, whose cause does its blood nourish?“
This basic question — one all realms must answer sooner or later — now caught Qianye briefly speechless.
Even between the dual polar tides, nations claimed “Neutrality,” each hiding intentions under masks. True autonomy belonged to either too weak or too powerful to provoke, or where “balance” itself served greater purpose.
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