Seventh Chapter Fourty-Nine Aosha's Gift

Rubaka Bloodwhip had just climbed out of bed when he heard the news that the northwestern small oasis had changed hands.

"Is that so?" He frowned. Although he had seen the oasis ablaze with fire last night, he hadn't expected the Roaring Clan to last even a single evening. Had a new clan with such formidable strength recently appeared in Silverstream? Why didn't he have any memory of it?

Rubaka patted the concubine lying beside him, motioning for her to leave, wrapped in a blanket, before turning to his subordinate, "Tell me in detail."

"Yes, according to the reports from those who escaped, the fire in the oasis wasn't set by challengers infiltrating, but by the Father's Heavenly Fire—"

"Bullshit!" He spat. "These cowards, pushing everything they can't solve onto the Three Gods. I'll have them all hanged at the gates of Iron Sand City!"

"However..." The subordinate hesitated for a moment, "My men also went to the small oasis camp this morning and found that the scene there was quite similar to what they described... The ground is full of black pits, and corpses and debris from houses are scattered everywhere. It doesn't seem like a simple arson could have done that."

"Debris?"

"That's right, it's as if a giant sandworm or burrowing scorpion rolled through the camp, tearing them to pieces." The subordinate chose his words carefully. "Most of those staying in the camp were unlucky, but those who went out to have fun organized a counterattack, but... they didn't even see their opponents before being routed."

"In other words, those fools were ambushed, and then they fled in panic without even getting close to the enemy?" Rubaka began to wonder if he had been too lenient with his watchdogs. He had spent a lot of effort to win them over, but was this all they were capable of? Or was the corruption of long-term stable life more serious than he had imagined? "And then? So far, they still don't even know which clan has occupied the small oasis?"

"My people are inquiring, and we should get news soon," the subordinate said, pausing hesitantly, "But some refugees said they saw many Northerners."

"Northerners..."

This news made Rubaka serious.

He walked naked to the window, looking northwest. The fire had long been extinguished, leaving only a few faint traces of black smoke.

Although the Roaring Clan was a watchdog jointly recruited by Iron Whip and Bone Carver, he didn't really care about their life or death. The challenger system was more of a protective wall set up by the six major clans for themselves than a qualification test. He understood this principle only after settling in Iron Sand City.

The Sacred Duel was merely a small-scale fight, but the challengers' struggle for the small oasis was a full-scale war between two clans. It was not uncommon for both sides to fight to the death, after all, even without entering Iron Sand City, the oasis was a must-contend place for every clan seeking to grow stronger. No matter which side won, they would generally pay an extremely heavy price, needing a long time to lick their wounds.

During this time, it was not difficult for the major clans to coerce and lure the challengers into becoming watchdogs, especially those clans who believed that compromise was only temporary, and they would eventually launch a duel after fully recovering. Basically, in the end, none of them were able to ring the holy bell of Iron Sand City.

Because then, new challengers would appear and sweep the watchdogs out of the game.

The major clans used this method to ensure that they would not fall into a state of serious injury.

Now that Iron Whip had climbed to the fourth position, even if a challenger immediately launched a duel, they probably wouldn't look for him. Therefore, the change of hands of the small oasis was not a critical matter.

But the appearance of Northerners was different.

For example, the previous Aqua Queen had caused no small amount of chaos in Iron Sand City—even if they were reduced to actual slaves and thugs, many people would still yearn for the ever-green land in the North. The defection of two potential challengers had emptied the small oasis, allowing subsequent people to easily launch a Sacred Challenge. It was also taking advantage of that chaos that Rubaka seized the opportunity and successfully became the fourth major clan.

Now, what tricks were they trying to play?

"Go keep an eye on those people and find out what's going on," he instructed his subordinate,

"Which city are the Northerners from, how many people are there, what weapons are they carrying, what are their intentions—I need to know everything!"

"Yes, Clan Leader!"

Perhaps, he should discuss this with the other major clans.

The rules of the Southern Border do not allow outsiders to interfere!

...

In the afternoon, the subordinate returned with news that Rubaka Bloodwhip found unbelievable.

"What did you say? The Aosha Clan?"

"They are indeed claiming that. All the flags in the oasis have been replaced with the Aosha battle pattern. I also saw the Aosha princess who was sold as a slave! She has become a Goddess and is gathering new clansmen. There seem to be quite a few respondents!"

This… how is it possible?

Rubaka was not completely ignorant of the Northern Kingdoms. Goddesses were completely regarded as evil existences in the eyes of Graycastle people. If the fate of the sand people slave was already miserable enough, then a Goddess slave would have even less chance of turning things around. But now, how did she win the support of the Northerners and return to the Southern Border as avengers?

He felt an indescribable absurdity, as well as a faint sense of panic.

The Mojin people had always been suppressed in the desert, not because they liked the desert, but because they were always unable to confront Graycastle head-on. If the other party wanted to harm Iron Sand City, the various clans might unite to resist outsiders, but what if the Aosha Clan, supported by the Northerners, only targeted his family? Would the other clans still be closely connected to Iron Whip?

This was almost a question that didn't need answering.

Damn it!

He smashed the wine glass on the table to the ground and stomped on it, turning it into a pile of glittering shards.

If you want to avenge your father's death through the Sacred Duel, then come! Rubaka thought viciously. The Northerners may have sophisticated weapons and a large number of people, but in the duel, the Mojin sand people are the most courageous warriors! I will let you know what despair tastes like!

At this moment, another subordinate entered his hall, "Clan Leader, the Aosha Clan has sent a gift."

"What?" Rubaka felt his forehead throbbing. "A gift?"

"Yes, it's in the outer garden."

"Take me to see it," he said through gritted teeth.

...

It was a huge wooden box, about one person long and half a person wide. It seemed to be pieced together from a few ordinary wooden planks, with iron nails hammered into the four corners. There was nothing unusual about the appearance.

"Where are the people who sent it?" Rubaka asked.

"They've already left."

"How many came?"

"Uh... only one person."

"One person?" He raised an eyebrow and kicked the box, causing it to roll several times, making a clanging sound—there seemed to be something else inside. But judging from the weight, it was almost hollow.

Was it severed limbs and flesh, or skinned human skin? Besides intimidation and bluffing, he couldn't think of anything else the other party would send.

"Move it to the stone fort," Rubaka said coldly. "I want to see what tricks they're trying to play."