Chapter 408 Kill Him

Chapter 408: Kill Him

Hutuke's roar of "Who dares?!" exploded inside the royal tent like the final howl of a wounded beast, trying to use whatever authority he had left to hold together a scene that was falling apart.

For a split second, time itself seemed to stand still.

But this stillness wasn't submission—it was the calm before the storm.

In that silence, a figure who'd been sprawled on the ground, like his soul had already died right along with his mother, suddenly moved!

It was Erdene.

He shoved himself up off the blood-soaked carpet, movements stiff but carrying a bone-chilling resolve.

His eyes, once empty and lifeless, now burned with bottomless grief and raging fury, so bloodshot they looked ready to bleed.

His eyes locked onto Hutuke's face, his whole body shaking violently with rage, fists clenched so hard his nails dug into his palms and drew blood.

His mother's body on the ground hadn't even gone cold yet, that ugly pool of blood sitting just a few feet from him.

The smell of blood in the air no longer scared him—it just fueled a hatred that ran bone-deep and a madness that was burning out of control.

"HU! TU! KE——!!!"

Erdene dragged those three syllables up from the bottom of his throat, hoarse and cracked, every one of them drenched in blood, tears, and hate.

He stumbled forward a step, jabbing a finger at Hutuke:

"You... you killed my mother! You demon even the Eternal Heaven won't forgive! Are you trying to drive every last one of us to our deaths?!"

His chest heaved as he sucked in air, his eyes sweeping over his mother's body, then snapping back to Wuliji.

In those bloodshot eyes, past the hate, there now burned a desperate, reckless conviction that only came from being cornered: "Wuliji is right! He is a wolf! A bloodsucker!

Today he kills my mother over bigger livestock taxes, tomorrow he'll kill your dads, your moms, your wives, your kids for some other damn reason!"

He spun around, screaming at the other chiefs who were still hesitating, like a man possessed:

"What the hell are you waiting for?! Waiting for him to put a knife to each of our throats one by one?!

Did the Bayan tribe's people die for nothing?! Did my mother's blood... get spilled for nothing?!"

Erdene's outburst was like lighting the last fuse.

His loss and his desperate screaming showed, more directly and brutally than any carefully written speech ever could, exactly what following Hutuke would cost—and it ripped apart whatever fake calm was left.

One of the chiefs, who'd been sweating over his locked-up tribesmen, kept changing expressions, then finally gritted his teeth and growled: "Damn it! I've had enough!"

He abruptly stepped over to stand with Wuliji and Erdene—still a little hesitant, but his choice was clear as day.

The other two still hadn't moved, but the fear in their eyes had turned into serious doubt.

Without realizing it, they leaned forward from their cowering corners, eyes darting between Hutuke, Wuliji, and the clearly out-of-his-mind Erdene...

Hutuke's face went white as a sheet. He hadn't expected things to spiral like this when victory had seemed so close.

The pale didn't last long—his face twisted into something close to insane rage.

He yanked the jeweled curved blade from his belt, the edge flashing cold in the firelight of the tent. The guards around him instantly closed ranks, boxing him in at the center.

"Mutiny! You're all in mutiny!" Hutuke's voice went shrill and sharp, his blade shaking as he pointed it at Erdene, then swept it over the wavering chiefs.

"You traitors—you and your tribes will suffer the Eternal Heaven's worst punishment!"

He was trying to cow them with raw, primal fear of the divine.

And yeah, the words "Eternal Heaven's punishment" put a flicker of instinctive fear and doubt in the chiefs' eyes.

Out on the grassland, respect for the Eternal Heaven was bred into the bone.

Just then, Wuliji's steady voice cut through again—no fiery speech, just cold, hard facts.

But it hit like a butcher knife, slicing straight through the fancy threat to the ugly truth underneath:

"The Eternal Heaven's punishment might come in the next life, but Hutuke's taxes will starve our people this winter."

That hit like a bucket of ice water, freezing the hesitation cold and turning it into something sharper—fear, and clarity.

Right! What punishment? That was way too far off!

What mattered right now was—if they gave up another twenty percent of their herds, how much food would the tribe even have left?

How were the old folks, the kids, the weak supposed to survive the brutal cold coming? If they couldn't even stay alive, what the hell did fear of the gods matter?!

"That's right! Chief Wuliji's got it right!"

"Can't even fill our stomachs, who gives a damn about punishment!"

"No more taxes! More taxes and we're dead!"

A loud, messy wave of agreement erupted inside the tent. Not just the chiefs—even some of the royal court's minor officials and soldiers who'd stayed neutral before were muttering to each other, faces full of the same worry. The will to survive beat out empty threats.

Seeing the unrest building, a lot of people were now staring at Hutuke with open hostility.

Some even grabbed their sword hilts without thinking, shifting their weight like they were about to step forward with Wuliji and Erdene.

Every alarm in Hutuke's head went off at once, cold sweat soaking his back. He knew empty threats weren't going to cut it anymore.

A vicious glint flashed in his eyes as he jabbed the blade at the restless crowd, barking:

"Of course Wuliji ain't scared! He already moved his people out! But what about you all?!"

His voice climbed, dripping with nasty reminder: "Your tribes, your wives, your kids—a lot of them are still in the royal camp, right in my hands! Go ahead, make a move and see what happens?!"

That landed like a hand squeezing everyone's throat!

The chiefs who'd already sided with Wuliji or were about to move—their faces went pale in a heartbeat.

How could they have forgotten?! He still had their weak spots in his grip!

Seeing the threat land, Hutuke steadied himself and pushed the advantage. He traced an arc through the air with the blade, finally pointing it at the unshaken Wuliji, his voice dripping with temptation and cruelty:

"Now! Whoever kills this traitor Wuliji—I'll release all of his tribesmen on the spot!

Not only will you be off the hook for the taxes, but I'll give back double the livestock I took before!"

Kill Wuliji, and your people and your herds go free!

For chiefs whose weak spots were in his hands and who were staring down survival, that offer was absolutely lethal in its appeal.

They exchanged glances, seeing in each other's eyes the same shock, hesitation, and a grim, murky murderous intent born of being backed into a corner.

When their gazes once again fell upon Wuliji, it was no longer with the respect or sympathy of before, but with complex calculation and inner conflict.

Some even unconsciously shifted their feet, widening the distance from Wuliji, their hands slowly creeping toward the sword hilts at their waists.

Wuliji remained standing in place, his stance as immovable as a mountain. Facing the quietly shifting hostility around him, his face showed no expression, but his eyes grew only deeper, like the night sky before a blizzard.

Seeing this, Hutuke's heart settled considerably. With a glance, he signaled his guards to heighten their vigilance and slowly edged toward the tent flap, while continuing to fan the flames, his voice goading:

"What are you waiting for?! Don't you want your own people to live?! Act! Kill Wuliji, and everything can still be saved!"

The atmosphere turned suddenly, utterly menacing. Erdene, eyes bloodshot with fury, moved to shield Wuliji, but a single look from Wuliji held him back.

Zhou Ming, lying on the ground, forgot to even cough, feeling as though his heart might burst from his chest—this was wilder than any damn opera! A damn mutiny was brewing!

Just as someone's eyes turned hard and they seemed ready to grit their teeth and strike—

From outside the tent came the sound of footsteps and the clank of armor, even denser than when the Uerha Tribe warriors had entered earlier!

Amid officers' shouts, rank after rank of the royal court's elite guards, fully armored, surged in like a tide of iron, ringing the royal tent in an unbreakable circle.

Spears and blades bristled like a forest, their cold gleam glinting off the snow, instantly hemming in Wuliji and his men in a counter-siege!

It was Hutuke's most loyal personal troops, stationed at the heart of the royal court, arriving!

Hutuke's taut nerves suddenly relaxed, and wild elation swept away his earlier panic.

He halted his shuffle toward the tent entrance, even stepping forward two paces instead, a smug, all-knowing expression creeping back onto his face.

He looked at Wuliji, Erdene, and the few chieftains who had voiced support for them, now surrounded layer upon layer, like turtles in a jar.

"Wuliji." Hutuke sneered, jabbing his sword tip toward the Uerha Tribe warriors behind Wuliji, hopelessly outnumbered.

"This is the royal court! This is my royal tent! With just this handful of men, you think you can turn the whole world upside down?"

His gaze swept over the chieftains whose faces had again turned pale, his voice heavy with the weight of certain victory:

"Now, my warriors have arrived. Your earlier hesitation and wavering, I can overlook for now. I'll give you one last chance—"

He raised his voice, thundering through the royal tent: "Kill Wuliji! Otherwise, not only will your people die, but you, and your tribes, will all be buried alongside this traitor today!"

The tables had turned in an instant! The spark of defiance ignited by Wuliji's words and Erdene's outburst seemed on the verge of being stamped out under the cold iron heel of overwhelming force.

Those chieftains, already wavering, looked at the dark sea of royal elite troops outside the tent, then at their own paltry numbers. The hatred for Hutuke, kindled by the threat to their kin, was instantly drowned out by a more primal fear.

Their eyes turned to Wuliji again, filled with struggle, but this time the scales clearly tipped toward self-preservation.

Erdene's eyes blazed with fury, but he knew a straight-up fight meant certain death.

The warriors behind Wuliji still gripped their sword hilts tightly, but their bodies had gone visibly rigid.

Hutuke watched it all with smug satisfaction, his gaze on Wuliji like a man staring at a corpse. He was about to order the traitors taken down—

"Rumble!" Suddenly, the sound of urgent, muffled hoofbeats rolled in, like a tide surging closer, thunderous in scale!

"What's going on?!" Hutuke and the others all started.

Before they could react, a figure, backlit against the biting wind and swirling snow, rode a steed with four snow-white hooves, like a lightning bolt splitting the night, bursting into everyone's view!

The newcomer wore a fur-lined cloak, long hair streaming wildly in the gale like black fire, carrying the raw edge of a furious ride.

In hand was a round iron hammer, its head dark and heavy, exuding a fierce, unyielding ferocity.

And behind him followed a crowd of Northern Di men, women, and children, escorted by Uerha Tribe warriors and fighters from other clans.

"Father!"

"Mother!"

"My child!"

Those chieftains, who had been on the verge of moving against Wuliji under Hutuke's coercion, suddenly went wide-eyed at the sight of familiar faces.

"It's... it's our people!"

"They've been rescued!"

Hutuke was hit as if by lightning, all the color draining from his face. His body swayed, and he nearly dropped his sword.

He stared at those "hostages" who should have been under tight guard but now stood alive before him, then at the figure on horseback, his mind going completely blank.

"Neigh—!" Snowstep let out a high, piercing cry, bursting forward like an arrow loosed from a bow!

Cheng Ge crouched low, the gale whipping his hair and fur cloak taut behind him.

The backlit figure stood like a boundary stone splitting light and shadow, like the world's own fierce wind and snow, thundering toward Hutuke.

Every ounce of his body's force, combined with the horse's charging momentum, poured into the heavy hammer gripped in his right hand!

The hammerhead tore through the air with a low, hair-raising whistle, carrying the destructive force of a thousand tons.

Blowing past the few stunned royal guards in his path, it carved the most brutal trajectory, slamming down on Hutuke's head!

Hutuke: "!!!!"