The chief of the Black Stone Tribe crouched down and picked up a partially burned bone from the ashes at the cave entrance, examining it closely.
There were many more bones scattered within the charred remains.
These bones were nothing unfamiliar for the Black Stone chief, who had eaten human flesh more than once during the harsh winter.
And that was precisely why he was furious.
If this tribe had chosen to relocate to avoid paying tribute to him, rather than resisting outright, he might have been able to tolerate it.
But judging by the scene before him, this tribe had not fled. It had been attacked.
No tribe would burn its people before migrating—certainly not even the weak ones.
After all, in severe food shortages, even the weakest individuals still had their uses.
This tribe, which had once submitted to them, had been wiped out by another.
For the Black Stone chief, who had grown increasingly arrogant after obtaining meteoric iron weapons, the thought that one of his vassal tribes had been so easily destroyed by outsiders was nothing short of an insult.
Yet, after his initial rage, he fell into deep contemplation.
Who had attacked this tribe?
Could it have been due to a lack of food?
This was not a season of scarcity. And the fact that the invaders had burned the bodies of the dead proved they were not after food.
But if not for food, then for what?
Taking captives would only increase the strain on their food supply.
The logic of it all eluded the Black Stone chief.
Just then, one of his men approached, holding something he had picked up from the grass nearby.
It was an arrow that Shupi’s warriors had lost during their raid.
The Black Stone chief took the strange weapon in his hands, eyeing it with a mix of curiosity and confusion.
To a man who valued brute force, such a small weapon seemed laughable.
How much damage could something this tiny even cause?
He imagined holding the thin, fragile weapon and stabbing it at prey—or worse, trying to use it in battle.
The thought alone made him grin mockingly.
If a tribe ever tried to attack them with weapons this feeble, he would crush them with his black stone weapons before they even got close.
He twirled the arrow in his fingers before his attention fell on the feathers at the tail end.
He plucked at them absentmindedly, wondering why anyone would bother tying feathers to a stick.
Did they think it looked nice?
Or perhaps… they believed the feathers would make the stick fly high and far, like a bird?
A sudden thought struck him, and he chuckled, convinced he had figured it out.
Without hesitation, he threw the strange weapon as hard as he could.
The arrow spun through the air, traveling briefly before slanting and embedding itself in the dirt.
It didn’t even fly as far as a rock.
The Black Stone chief scratched his head in confusion.
If not to make it fly farther… then what was the point of the feathers?
He walked over, picked up the arrow again, and held it. After thinking for a moment, he gripped both ends and snapped it in half with little effort.
How could such a fragile weapon possibly harm anyone?
Weapons much thicker than this had been easily cleaved in two by their black stone blades—let alone something this flimsy.
With that thought, the Black Stone chief casually tossed the broken arrow to the ground.
At first, he had felt some apprehension about this unknown tribe. But now, looking at the snapped arrow on the ground and then at the solid black stone weapon in his hand, a powerful sense of confidence welled up inside him.
He shouted, rallying his warriors as they searched the area.
Right now, he wanted to find this seemingly weak tribe that had dared to attack his vassal and crush them into submission. Then, they could replace the destroyed tribe and begin offering food to their people instead.
Of course, the Black Stone Tribe failed to find many traces of Shupi’s warriors. The season wasn’t winter, meaning tracks faded quickly, and Shupi’s tribe had already left this area some time ago…
A Short Distance Away.
Shupi’s settlement had grown significantly in population.
The people he had captured were now part of his tribe. After executing their newly appointed chief with a bone knife in front of everyone and forcing them to smear his fresh blood on their faces, these captives had quickly learned obedience.
At that moment, one of the newly captured individuals spoke excitedly in front of Shupi, jumping up and down to emphasize his words.
Gradually, Shupi’s expression darkened.
And when the man found a thick wooden stick and mimed a chopping motion, Shupi’s frown deepened even further.
There’s another powerful tribe out there?
And their weapons are strong enough to cut through something this thick?
And they demand tribute from other tribes?
This unexpected discovery immediately dampened Shupi’s earlier joy from his recent victory.
What if that tribe eventually comes here to collect food from my people?
Worry crept into Shupi’s mind.
But his concern didn’t last long. His gaze landed on the nearby longbows, then shifted to the not-so-tall walls surrounding his settlement.
My tribe has powerful weapons too.
That tribe’s weapons might sound intimidating, but his bows and arrows were just as deadly.
He and his archers would shoot them down before those warriors could even reach his people.
Aside from that terrifying yet unforgettable tribe from his past, Shupi feared no one.
He stood up, raised his bow above his head, and waved it vigorously as he spoke loudly.
The rest of the tribe followed his lead, lifting their bows and shouting in unison.
Their chaotic voices echoed across the land—a defiant challenge to a tribe they had yet to meet…