The Barbarian Tribe was located at the heart of the Black Soil Plain. It stood as a dominant force, casting its influence across the entire region. Despite having only around 300,000 people spread across two main strongholds, it fielded nearly 50,000 warriors—an astonishing number that revealed the depth of its military strength.
This formidable force was made possible by the tribe's unique system.
Many years ago, the barbarians had crushed all opposition on the Black Soil Plains through brute strength and relentless warfare. Yet, instead of absorbing the conquered tribes, they imposed a system of forced tribute. Every year, these subordinate tribes were required to hand over vast amounts of grain just to retain the right to exist.
This ruthless system relieved the barbarians of any food shortages, allowing them to dedicate more of their youth to warfare. As a result, while their population remained modest, their number of fighters was unparalleled.
For centuries, the barbarian tribes had reigned supreme. Challengers had come and gone—defeated, driven out, or simply erased from the land. The barbarians' dominance was etched into the hearts of all who lived on the plains. Their tyranny had become a way of life.
But now, a new power had risen. A power unafraid to challenge the old order.
Standing atop a ridge overlooking the barbarian stronghold, Ye Zhan narrowed his eyes. A cold smile played across his lips as he spurred his horse forward.
"Brave warriors of the Night Tribe, follow me—charge!"
His voice was like thunder across the plain. Without hesitation, Ye Zhan surged ahead, leading his personal guards at full speed. The rest of the cavalry thundered behind him, their battle cries ripping through the silence of night.
Ye Zhan held the second-highest military authority in the Night Tribe, second only to the clan leader. He was also among the earliest members of the tribe, and his loyalty was beyond question. Through countless battles and hard-fought victories, he had proven himself time and again.
Su Xingyu had once hoped Ye Zhan would evolve into a great strategist. But while his courage and valor were unmatched, his talent for command plateaued at a rating of 79—forever just shy of excellence.
Still, where he lacked in strategic brilliance, Ye Zhan more than made up for it in ferocity. He led from the front, spear in hand, preferring to crush the enemy with raw force rather than cunning.
The barbarian tribe had not expected an attack—not here, not now. Though they quickly began rallying their fighters, they were too late.
The Night Tribe's cavalry crashed into the stronghold like a storm. With minimal defenses and little preparation, the barbarian outer lines fell apart in an instant.
"Kill!"
"Sacrifice the blood of our enemies to the God!"
"Fight for the King!"
The warriors of the Night Tribe howled as they charged, driven by vengeance and divine purpose. Many of them had long suffered under the oppression of the barbarian clans. They had come not just to conquer, but to avenge.
To their credit, the barbarian warriors did not collapse. Startled from their sleep, many grabbed weapons and formed loose formations to counterattack. Their response, though uncoordinated, was fierce. Even half-dressed and disoriented, the barbarians met the charge with a roar of defiance.
This was why the barbarians had ruled for so long. Any lesser tribe would have crumbled under such a sudden assault.
But the Night Tribe warriors were no ordinary army.
They had trained and fought for this day. Their hearts burned with a purpose beyond mere survival. They had grown up hearing tales of the barbarian tribe's cruelty. Now, they were here to rewrite the story.
"Die!" Ye Zhan shouted, his spear slicing through the air and taking down enemy after enemy. Blood sprayed across his armor as he advanced like an unstoppable beast.
Inspired by his fury, the warriors around him pushed forward, unwilling to fall behind. The battlefield erupted in chaos—blades clashed, men screamed, and fire licked the sky as tents and stores burned.
Despite their fierce resistance, the barbarian warriors began to fall. Their once-feared strength was overwhelmed by the sheer momentum of the Night Tribe's assault. For every barbarian that struck back, two more fell under spear or saber.
And still the Night Tribe advanced.
Their belief turned to frenzy, as if every slain enemy brought them closer to justice. They had lived under the barbarians' shadow for generations. Tonight, they would tear that shadow down.
Soon, even the most elite barbarian warriors began to falter. Surrounded by flames, tripping over corpses, watching their comrades fall—despair crept in.
Clang!
At the center of the battle, Ye Zhan faced off against a massive warrior, clearly the barbarian chief. The clash of spear and axe rang out with every blow. Both men were blood-soaked, their armor torn and dented.
The chief roared, swinging his long-handled axe with terrifying power. Each strike threatened to shatter bone and armor alike.
"Who are you? Why have you invaded us?" the chieftain bellowed.
He had ruled this stronghold for years, never once imagining such a nightmare would unfold. All around him, his men were dying, and hope was vanishing.
"Night Tribe. Ye Zhan," came the reply, voice cold and resolute.
A crimson aura erupted around Ye Zhan. Blood coated his body and shimmered in the firelight. With a final roar, he hurled himself forward and drove his spear straight at the chieftain.
"Die!"
The barbarian raised his axe, trying to block the blow, but Ye Zhan twisted the weapon upward with both hands. The axe flew from the chieftain's grip and landed yards away.
Swish!
The spear struck again, lightning-fast.
"Wait—"
The chief's plea was cut short. The weapon punched through his neck, silencing him forever.
Ye Zhan yanked the body upright and lifted it for all to see.
"The leader is dead! Surrender, and you will be spared!" he shouted.
"The leader is dead! Surrender, and you will be spared!" the soldiers echoed, voices rising like thunder.
"The leader is dead! Surrender, and you will be spared!"
"The leader is dead! Surrender, and you will be spared!"
The chanting grew louder, reverberating across the stronghold like a drumbeat of doom.
Faced with their fallen leader, surrounded by enemies, and consumed by fire, the remaining barbarian warriors finally dropped their weapons.
One by one, they surrendered.
The era of the barbarian tribe had come to an end.