Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 750 750 54 Blazing Fire_3

?Chapter 750: Chapter 54 Blazing Fire_3 Chapter 750: Chapter 54 Blazing Fire_3 “Circle upriver or downriver.” Tie Chi answered without a moment’s hesitation, “Where else can we circle?”

“I’ve scouted ahead.” The old Translator said in a deep voice, “The fire is huge, circling upriver means heading into the mountains!”

“Then we circle downriver.”

“Downriver is marked for other chiefs’ routes.”

Tie Chi grunted, “Why didn’t you just say, ‘We can’t circle,’ and be done with it?”

The arsonists had a pre-agreed “marching route” that was not merely a route, but also a “plundering range.”

Upriver was obviously easier to cross than downriver, which is why the arsonists had been somewhat self-serving in allocating the marching routes.

The arsonists allocated the upriver route to [Bao Wuer]—namely, their kin, the lineal descendants—;
And allocated the downriver marching route to [Ah Heita]—namely, those minor chiefs who were originally independent but forced or willingly attached to the Terdon Tribe—.

Paratu People set a massive fire in the upriver grasslands, squarely blocking the arsonists and their cronies’ route.

“Circling won’t do.” The old Translator flatly opposed, “We don’t know how long this fire will last, once we detour it might be hundreds of kilometers. Not to mention the delay; what would the Ah Heitas think?”

“Heck!” Tie Chi threw a fierce punch at his thigh, spewing saliva clear across the tent as he cursed, “How did these bipeds learn our movements? Who’s the rotten meat that crows wouldn’t touch that leaked the information? Find this gut-rotten traitor! Shoot him with a thousand arrows!”

The arsonists clenched their fists, and everyone in the tent shivered with fright.

“We’ll discuss these things later.” Seeing the situation, the old Translator immediately spoke to ease the atmosphere, “In any case, the rebels from Newly Reclaimed Land have gotten wind that we’re coming to plunder. However they found out, they know now.

We are like wolves lying in the grass, discovered by the gazelles before even getting close. The gazelles are about to run, and the wolves only have two choices: either save their energy and watch the gazelles escape, or chase after them and take a gamble. Let’s discuss and decide how to choose.”

The arsonists’ face was ashen, and the others—whether his own cousins or cronies—dared not speak.

In the end, it was Tie Chi, the uncle who had supported the arsonist in acquiring the “khan position,” who spoke first.

Tie Chi looked at his nephew, and said bluntly, “Enough, arsonist. If the bipeds to our east know we’re coming, then those in other places surely know as well. A wolf spotted far away by the gazelles shouldn’t waste any more energy chasing them.

Our losses aren’t too severe; just a few horses and some sheep dead. There’s still time to return to the winter pastures. Let the Ah Heitas go if they wish; we should head back now!”

The other Kotas in the tent murmured agreement.

While the arsonist might need a great plunder to reestablish his prestige, the other Kotas did not.

Compared to the elusive spoils of war, the Kotas cared more about their own horses tired to death, their sheep eaten—even if they were the arsonist’s blood relations and attendants.

The arsonist gazed down at his fists, silent.

“Arsonist, what does your silence mean?” Tie Chi’s temper flared uncontrollably as he shouted, “If you won’t speak, then we’ll decide by casting beans!”

The atmosphere in the tent plummeted.

The arsonist raised his head and spoke coldly, “Any of you who wants to decide by casting beans, stand up.”

Naturally, no one dared to stand, including Tie Chi who continued sitting.

“We’ve already had one decision by casting beans; there’s no need for a second. My mind is made up, cross the scorched earth straight to the bipeds’ territory.” The arsonist drew an arrow and held it above his head, snapping it with a fierce movement, “Whoever dares to undermine the morale of our forces, meet the fate of this arrow!”

Tie Chi grunted angrily, turned his head away from the arsonist, and said no more.

The others in the tent lowered their heads in submission as well.

“The Kotas needn’t worry.” The old Translator smiled and said, “The rebels have only set fire to a few dozen kilometers of grassland; we can cross it in a few strides. Once we cross the river and reach the rebels’ lands, there will surely be plenty to eat and drink. The rebels can set fire to the grasslands where nobody lives, but could they also burn their own land?”

This reassured everyone in the tent somewhat, and all the Bao Wuer rallied, patting their left chests in agreement.

Meanwhile, in the first military farming village of Forge Village, Iron Peak County.

Peter Buniel, nicknamed “Dwarf Peter,” was held down by four or five soldiers as he cried hysterically, “That’s my house, don’t burn it! Ah! Don’t burn! Please! Have mercy! Ah…”

Captain Thomas watched the grass shed before him and, gritting his teeth, ordered, “Burn! The council has decreed it; burn it all down!”

Dwarf Peter’s cries were heartbreakingly shrill, and no one had the heart to do it.

Thomas snatched a torch and personally ignited Dwarf Peter’s ramshackle wooden house.

The flames swirled up from the walls to the roof, eventually engulfing the entire shack as Dwarf Peter’s wails became inhuman.

“Let’s go,” Thomas lifted the torch, “Next, we burn my house!”