Chapter 16: Bimong (1)

Although the mountain winds sweeping across the northern wilderness carried a hint of coolness, the soldiers who had lived in this land for long had seemingly grown accustomed to such climate. Their bare arms revealed sturdy copper-colored muscles, with tendons coiled like earthworms. All of them had fierce tiger-like eyes and thick beards, along with spearheads three meters long, their red tassels fluttering in the wind. Yet the spearheads above the tassels appeared somewhat rough, clearly made from simply ground iron, which diminished their otherwise imposing appearance.

Tents arranged in concentric circles covered the entire wilderness. At first glance, it seemed one had entered an endless military camp. Tents of varying colors and materials indicated different tribes, but the large golden-domed tent in the center stood out clearly. The men standing outside it were all towering giants over two meters tall. Their golden armor covered only their chests, abdomens, and vital lower body areas. A tiger-head encircling mark on their left shoulders symbolized the uniqueness of this group of warriors.

Even just wearing armor was enough to prove the extraordinary status of these men. Orc warriors rarely donned such finely crafted armor. Even on the front lines of battle, they usually wore nothing but a broken leather helmet and a crude piece of armor on their chests. But these warriors were fully armored, even wearing round helmets with iron inlays—something that couldn’t be produced in orc territories. It could only be obtained by purchasing at high prices from humans or by seizing it through force. Yet all fifty of these warriors wore identical armor, which meant they couldn’t have acquired it through plunder alone. Apart from the King’s Guard, no one among the orcs had such strength.

The large leopard-tail flag standing in front of the golden tent proved this point. This was the residence of the Great Khan of the Orc Alliance, who ruled the northern wastelands in the western part of the Blue Continent. On the flag fluttering in the wind was a roaring tiger totem with its teeth bared, symbolizing that the current Orc Alliance was led by a tiger clan as its Khan. Naturally, the warriors guarding the golden tent were the elite guard of the tiger clan—the Variegated Armor.

The atmosphere inside the golden tent didn’t seem very harmonious. Expressions of frustration or dissatisfaction appeared on the faces of those present, as if they were arguing over some issue.

The burly man sitting in the center had large ears, a reddish-brown face, and piercing tiger-like eyes that exuded a formidable presence. Several dark brown patterns with faint glowing lines on his forehead were the most obvious signs of his status as a tiger king. Thick brownish-yellow beards covered his nose and chin, hiding his mouth completely. A jujube-red cape hung over his golden armor, and a silver-gray sword half a foot wide was deeply planted in the soil in front of him. The hilt of the sword, wrapped in crocodile skin, featured a large black sphere with rippling waves on top. Sami Tagore, the king of the tiger clan and the 32nd leader of the Mogan Wasteland Orc Alliance—anyone who was deceived by his seemingly rough and hearty appearance would pay a heavy price. Although he was the king of the tiger clan, playing the fool to deceive others was his greatest skill.

The Mogan Wasteland covered the entire northern part of the Eastern Continent of the Blue Land. It was a vast region, the birthplace and largest settlement of orcs, home to dozens of orc tribes. They called themselves the Bemon Kingdom, but other races, especially humans, refused to acknowledge this so-called Bemon Kingdom. They believed that the political structure of the orcs could hardly be called a nation—it was at most a loose tribal alliance. Thus, most people in other parts of the continent referred to it as the Orc Alliance. Some other races, such as elves, half-elves, merfolk, jellyfish people, and barbarians, also used another name—Orc Kingdom—out of disdain for human tyranny.

Although there were dozens of tribes in the Orc Alliance, only six tribes truly had the power to make decisions within it. It was these six tribes that determined all matters, big and small, for the entire alliance.

Sitting around the burly man were four men and one woman. An old man with squinting eyes sat slightly behind and to the side of the burly man, his long black hair covering half of his face, making it impossible to see his true appearance.

“Sami, didn’t those guys say they were willing to provide us with ample intelligence and supplies? Why is there no news now? Only a dozen battering rams were delivered, and they were damaged before we could make use of them properly. This seems quite different from what was agreed upon, doesn’t it?”

A slightly hunched, thin middle-aged man with a bluish complexion resembled a man who had indulged in excesses. A hint of coldness seeped from between his teeth, as his long, thin hands rubbed rapidly together in front of him. His deeply sunken eyes held flickering green pupils. The thick armor fit poorly on his gaunt frame, making him look more like a down-and-out merchant who had failed in business. Only the wolf sculpture on the front of his brown helmet, depicting a wolf howling at the sky, could prove his extraordinary status—it was the supreme symbol of the wolf clan. Carter Wolf, the undisputed leader of the wolf clan, a wise man who had raised the weakest of the six orc clans, the wolves, to a level comparable to that of the tiger clan. In the eyes of all wolves, he was even more suitable to be the ruler of the entire orc alliance than the tiger clan’s leader, Shami Tagore.

The burly man’s eyes sparkled as he nodded slightly. “Humans can never be counted on too much. Many of them are cunning and deceitful; morality and loyalty mean nothing to them. They won’t help us for no reason this time either. Although the siege engines they provided are useful for taking down the human fortresses in the north, they demanded that we not cross the Ural Mountains and rivers. I still don’t understand why they imposed such restrictions. It seems the humans west of the Ural Mountains were already prepared before us. There’s something strange about this—could they be thinking of us? Or are these guys colluding with the human forces west of the Ural Mountains and rivers? That seems absurd.”

No one knew which side these guys truly belonged to, but they did provide the orcs with advanced siege engines that they had long dreamed of—genuine and real. It was unclear how they managed to transport them past the blockade, and not just one or two, but fifteen! Though their role in battle might seem insignificant, the shock they caused to the human soldiers in those castles and fortresses was undeniable. For the orc soldiers, it boosted morale more than any reward. Whatever schemes those humans had in mind when selling them these siege engines, their use was crucial in allowing the orcs to easily take down so many fortresses and castles in the northern human countries. Everyone agreed on this point.

“As for why they no longer provide more siege engines, I think they’re probably worried that if we get too many of these weapons, our strength will increase too much, which wouldn’t be in the interest of the mortals. They want to use us while also restraining us—what a clever plan. The middle-aged man wore a genuinely cheerful smile, making him look more like a kind-hearted elder. ‘These mortals consider all possible consequences before taking any action. Their thoughts are more complex than we imagine. Dealing with them feels even more exhausting than fighting. As for why they give us siege engines, to be honest, I still have no idea.’”