The cold wind howled through the camp, biting at the skin of every survivor. The beastman warband was no longer a distant rumor—its presence loomed closer with every passing hour, like a gathering storm on the horizon. Scouts reported that they would be upon the camp by nightfall.
Within the camp, panic had set in. The leaders argued fiercely, their voices rising into a cacophony of disjointed plans and desperate measures.
"We need to flee before they arrive!" one of the council members shouted, pacing furiously. "We won't survive another attack!"
"And where will we go?" retorted another, throwing her arms in the air. "There's no place to run. The Southern Border is too far, and we'll be picked off one by one in the wilderness!"
Arguments and counterarguments flew back and forth, the weight of leadership crumbling beneath the pressure. No consensus, no direction, just chaos.
Hui Jian stood at the edge of the firelight, watching it all unfold in silence. His presence was barely acknowledged by the others, as it had always been. They underestimated him—an advantage he had carefully cultivated. He didn't need to shout to be heard; he didn't need to command to lead. He already knew how this would play out, and he was ready to move the pieces into place.
He let them argue, watching the fractured leadership expose its weaknesses. He had carefully nudged certain figures into positions of command—leaders who had challenged him before, those whose loyalty he questioned. Now, in the face of the impending attack, those very leaders were showing their incompetence. It was a subtle, strategic decision: let them falter and fail publicly, ensuring their downfall in the eyes of the survivors.
Later that night, after the arguments had died down to exhausted murmurs, Hui Jian made his first move. He approached Ren, one of the few people whose respect he had earned through actions, not words. Ren had been skeptical of the leadership's bickering for some time, and tonight, his frustration was palpable.
"Ren," Hui Jian said quietly, his tone measured. "This indecision will get us all killed."
Ren's brow furrowed as he turned to face him. "I know. But they won't listen. Everyone's afraid."
"That's the problem," Hui Jian replied, stepping closer. "They're too focused on survival, but survival without a plan is just death delayed. We need to strike first."
"Strike first? Against a warband?" Ren asked, skeptical but intrigued.
Hui Jian nodded. "We know they're coming. That gives us an advantage. We don't have the defenses to hold them off, but we can catch them off guard before they're ready. A well-placed ambush. We use the terrain, and we hit them hard."
Ren's eyes narrowed, considering the proposal. "You think that'll work? What if it fails?"
"If we do nothing, we're dead anyway," Hui Jian said, his voice steady. "But if we take the initiative, we have a chance. I need you to help me convince a few of the stronger fighters. We can't rely on the council—they're too fractured."
Ren hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the campfire where the other leaders continued their futile discussions. Then he nodded. "Alright. I'll rally a few. But what about the others?"
"We leave them to their bickering," Hui Jian said simply. "This isn't about saving everyone. It's about saving who we can."
Ren's gaze hardened, but he understood the truth of it. There was no room for sentimentality in the North Plains.
In the hours that followed, Hui Jian quietly approached key figures within the camp. Mei Lin, a skilled tracker, Lao Shun, an experienced fighter, and a handful of others. He spoke to each of them in the same calm, calculated tone. His words were not grand promises of victory, but cold, logical arguments that cut through their fear.
"We either strike first, or we die," he told them. "If you want to live, follow me."
There were no rousing speeches, no dramatic declarations. Just a quiet, growing understanding that Hui Jian's plan, while dangerous, was their best option.
By the time the moon had risen high in the sky, a small group had gathered at the edge of the camp, armed and ready. The others, still huddled around their fires, had no idea what was about to happen.
But Hui Jian had not selected his ambush team without thought. Among the fighters were two of the more vocal council members—Shen Ru and Liang Bo, both of whom had openly questioned his strategies in the past. Hui Jian had placed them in critical positions for the ambush, areas that would bear the brunt of the attack. If they performed well, they would survive. If not, their absence would rid the camp of potential troublemakers. A calculated risk.
The night was cold and silent as Hui Jian led his small group toward the point where the beastman warband was expected to pass. The snow crunched softly beneath their feet, and the air was thick with anticipation.
They reached a narrow pass flanked by jagged cliffs, a natural choke point where the beastmen would be forced to pass through. It was the perfect spot for an ambush.
Hui Jian crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. The Frozen Mind Gu, nestled deep in his aperture, pulsed faintly, clearing his thoughts and sharpening his focus. The others, too, crouched behind the rocks, weapons at the ready, their breath visible in the frigid air.
Hours passed in tense silence, the wind howling through the cliffs, carrying with it the scent of frost and blood. Then, in the distance, they heard it—the unmistakable sound of heavy, beastly footsteps crunching through the snow.
The beastmen were close.
Hui Jian motioned for the group to remain still. His heart beat steadily, his mind calm. He had planned for this moment, every step calculated. Now, it was all about execution.
The warband approached, their brutish forms barely visible in the darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon. There were ten of them—huge, hulking figures with fur-covered bodies and crude weapons slung across their backs. They moved slowly, cautiously, unaware that death waited in the shadows.
As the beastmen reached the center of the pass, Hui Jian gave the signal.
The first strike was swift and brutal. Lao Shun leaped from the shadows, his blade glinting in the moonlight as he brought it down on the nearest beastman's neck. The creature let out a guttural roar, but it was silenced quickly as it fell to the ground, blood pooling in the snow.
Mei Lin's arrows followed, slicing through the air with deadly precision. Two more beastmen fell, their massive bodies crashing into the snow with heavy thuds. The rest of the group surged forward, weapons flashing in the moonlight as they engaged the remaining beastmen in fierce combat.
Hui Jian remained on the outskirts, his eyes scanning the battlefield, watching the flow of the fight. Shen Ru and Liang Bo had been positioned closest to the thickest part of the enemy formation, and as expected, they were struggling. Their inexperience and overconfidence showed in their movements, and within moments, Liang Bo was struck down by a beastman's crude axe.
Shen Ru, too, faltered, her blade missing its mark as a beastman overpowered her. Hui Jian could see the panic in her eyes as she realized her mistake, and though a part of him could have intervened, he chose not to. Her fate was sealed.
The battle raged on, but with Hui Jian's plan in place, the tide quickly turned. The remaining beastmen were overwhelmed, their brutish strength no match for the precise, calculated strikes of Hui Jian's ambush team.
When the last beastman fell, the snow was stained with blood, and the group stood victorious. But not all had survived.
Hui Jian glanced at the fallen forms of Liang Bo and Shen Ru, their bodies lying still in the snow. The camp had lost two leaders tonight, but in Hui Jian's eyes, it was a necessary sacrifice. Disloyalty had no place in a world as unforgiving as this.
Ren approached him, wiping blood from his blade. "It worked," he said, his tone a mix of relief and disbelief. "We actually did it."
Hui Jian nodded, his expression calm. "It's not over yet. This was only a small group. There will be more."
Ren's face darkened, but he knew Hui Jian was right. The North Plains were unforgiving, and this victory was only a temporary reprieve.
As they made their way back to the camp, Hui Jian allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. The others would see him as a savior now, a leader they could trust. But it was not their trust he wanted. It was their loyalty. Their dependence on him. That was what would ensure his survival in the long run.
When they returned to the camp, the survivors were greeted with stunned silence. The blood on their weapons, the tired but determined expressions on their faces, told the story before any words were spoken.
"You... you defeated them?" one of the council members stammered, disbelief etched on her face.
"We did," Ren said, glancing at Hui Jian. "But we were only able to do it because we struck first."
The council members exchanged nervous glances, unsure how to react. They had been paralyzed by indecision while Hui Jian's group had taken action.
Tao Lin approached Hui Jian again, her eyes wide with something that looked like a mixture of awe and suspicion. "You really did it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You... survived."
Hui Jian didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames of the campfire. He could feel the shift in power, the subtle change in the way people looked at him now. He had proven himself, but he wasn't ready to take control—not yet.
There was still more to be done. The beastmen were only the first challenge. The real test would come later, when the survivors were forced to make harder choices. Choices that would require them to rely on him even more.
And when that time came, Hui Jian would be ready.