"Stop shooting arrows..."

"Hurry up and rest..."

"Damn it..."

"Boss, boss..."

A buzzing roar echoed in his ears as Ryan opened his eyes, shaking his head to clear the fog. A burly man in leather armor, blood smeared across his face, was shouting at him, pulling a giant sword from the chest of a slowly collapsing corpse. The dead body had an eerie dark green skin, was massive, ugly, and sported strange tusks.

The man kicked the corpse away, and the dark green body fell back, his iron-headed hammer clattering to the ground. Just then, the hammer's owner disappeared behind a rock wall, crashing to the ground with a thud.

"Boss! Are you okay?" The burly man rushed over, grabbing Ryan's swaying body.

Ryan jolted awake.

The scene before him was bizarre and horrific. It wasn't the familiar conference room, with its large screens and suited colleagues, nor the bustling city scape outside; it was only the raging wind and snow and the crude rock walls hastily constructed from massive stones.

He was standing on a rock wall, surrounded by hard rock, with dead bodies strewn about beneath him—dark green corpses and others in animal skins that looked like his own people. The ground was already soaked with blood.

What the hell is going on? Wasn't I just in a meeting? After a month of pushing a project, I finally had a perfect presentation, and everyone was applauding. I felt relieved and then just wanted to close my eyes for a moment...

"Boss? Boss?" The burly man, broad-shouldered and gray-haired, probably in his forties, gripped Ryan's shoulder tightly, shaking him with great force. The blood on his face made his expression appear fierce, but Ryan could clearly feel the concern in his urgent voice.

Is this a dream? Ryan licked his dry lips and touched his head, which throbbed painfully; his helmet was dented, likely from blocking a lethal blow from the iron-headed hammer.

This dream feels so real. The buzzing in his ears and the vice-like grip of the man's hand on his shoulder held him fast.

He pushed the man's hand away and steadied himself, looking ahead.

The wind and snow whipped ferociously. In this strange, dream-like world, he saw a scene one might only find in a game or a movie: a narrow, primal valley, with a rugged rock wall stretching across, connecting the mountains on either side, forming a solid barrier.

Outside the four-meter-high rock wall, a river several meters wide rushed out, its banks clearly shaped by human hands, creating a natural moat. Beyond that, scattered corpses lay on the ground, many pierced by one or several arrows. They, like the recently slain, were large, ugly figures with tusks and thick limbs, reminiscent of grotesque green giants.

"Boss, are you alright?" The burly man, fearing Ryan might fall from the wall, reached out to steady him.

"I'm fine, Splitting Blade!"

Splitting Blade? Why did I just say his name?

As that thought crossed his mind, Ryan's memories seemed to burst open like a floodgate, providing answers to many questions in an instant.

This was the Spear-Point Valley, a nearly abandoned remote territory on the wilderness border, belonging to the Highland Alliance.

It was an age of cold weapons and magical beasts, and they were currently facing enemies from the rival Forest Alliance's Tiger Tribe, a bloodthirsty orc clan.

The anxious Splitting Blade was his family guard for many years. On the rock wall, amid the swirling snow, there were still eight or nine guards left, along with dozens of poorly clad individuals wielding hunting bows and spears—natives who had lived in Spear-Point Valley, driven to the walls to fend off the Tiger Tribe's attack.

And he was the new lord of this small territory, Kent.

To be precise, he was the illegitimate son of the royal family from the Wilderness Tribe of the Highland Alliance, wrongfully embroiled in a family succession dispute, framed and oppressed by his half-siblings, and sent to be the new lord of this remote border territory.

They had just arrived in the territory yesterday, and today, they were attacked by the Tiger Tribe.

Ryan was shocked; this was definitely not a dream. Dreams couldn't have such logical memories and clear sensations: the stinging snow hitting his face, the hard rock beneath his feet, the bloodied corpses around him, the pain in his head, the warm breath of the guards, and the long sword in his hand...

He looked down at the sword, its blade already bearing several nicks and dripping blood.

The cold, familiar sensation coursed through his hand to his brain; this sword had been with him for many years. From the blade to the grip, his gloved hand, and his filthy leather armor—now soaked and sticky—he couldn't tell if it was blood mixed with snow or snow soaked with blood.

This feels so real; this isn't a dream!

He had somehow crossed into a strange tribal continent and become Kent?

From an engineering graduate and cross-industry marketing expert to a lord on the wild borders of the Highland Alliance?

And with the identity of an illegitimate son and heir to a wilderness tribal royal family?

All these memories flooded into his mind in a flash, providing him with answers.

But why had he been transported to this strange world? How had such an odd thing occurred? Those are not questions to ponder now.

Not that they weren't important, but there wasn't time to think.

What he needed to consider now was how to survive.

"Boss, I feel something's off..." Splitting Blade gasped, "These bastards seem to be coming for you..."

As royal guards of the Wilderness Tribe, Splitting Blade and several others had been close to their illegitimate son and had been "exiled" to this remote territory. Though they felt some reluctance, the illegitimate son treated them well and never looked down on them. They were all willing to accept their fate and followed him here.

But arriving in this new territory only to be attacked by the Tiger Tribe felt too coincidental.

Even the simple-minded guards couldn't help but suspect they might be becoming pawns in a family feud.

"Splitting Blade, what do you suggest?"

Kent's mind raced, sifting through the memories related to this situation. He needed time to assess his options.

As the newly "parachuted" leader in this unfamiliar world, Ryan needed to gather his trusted allies' thoughts and suggestions before making a decision in such a pressing situation.

"Boss, we don't have enough workforce, and there's no need to hold this broken place..." Splitting Blade wiped the blood from his face and said, "Let's pull back."

At the mention of "pull back," the faces of the nearby natives instantly turned ashen.

This remote little place had never been attacked by the Tiger Tribe. This time, with the new lord and his trained guards helping to fend them off, they had managed to withstand two waves of the Tiger Tribe's assaults thanks to the defensive advantage of the rock wall.

But if they all retreated, the entire tribe in the valley would likely not survive the night.

"Pull back?"

Ignoring the pleading looks of the surrounding natives, the illegitimate son's eyes were cold, almost terrifyingly calm.

What a headache...

Using his modern analytical skills, Ryan quickly began to piece together recent events.

Fabricated evidence accusing him of colluding with outsiders… feigned pleas for mercy during family punishment… the deliberate suggestion of being sent to a border territory… then spreading news to the enemies of his family…

What a clever scheme of fabrication, deception, and manipulation!

However, those worthless half-siblings of his lacked the capability to devise such a sinister plot. Who had pointed them in this direction—some elder of the royal council, perhaps?

Splitting Blade was right; there was indeed no value in holding this position. But the real question was, where could they retreat to?

Back to the plateau?

Leaving aside the fact that winter had set in, and the journey would take nearly half a year, they would likely freeze to death on the way back.

Even if they could return in disgrace, how could his half-siblings allow him to re-enter the power struggle?

And if they didn't go back to the plateau, what place in this vast world could guarantee their survival...?

"Is there even a way back..." the illegitimate son scoffed, surveying the empty valley and then glancing at the guards and the frail natives around him, many of whom were already trembling from the cold and fear. He sighed inwardly, making up his mind: "Going back means death, but staying might offer a glimmer of hope..."

The wind and snow grew fiercer.

"Splitting Blade!" the illegitimate son commanded. "First, find a way to hold off the Tiger Tribe. We'll deal with the rest later."

"Understood, boss! I'll do as you say!" Splitting Blade replied decisively, casting a sidelong glance at the other guards.

After traveling for several months through desolate terrain, they finally reached this remote and desolate borderland in winter. There was no choice but to stick together; they had to fight together to survive.

The guards were seasoned veterans, and they understood this basic principle well.

It was no surprise to Splitting Blade that the illegitimate son made such a decision. The other royal family's young lords usually treated the guards like dogs, while the illegitimate son was the only one who treated them as equals. He often asked them for details about battlefield tactics and trained and hunted with them, sharing food and drink.

Moreover, the illegitimate son disliked being called "master" like the others; he insisted on being addressed as "leader" or "boss," mimicking those in the adventure groups across the continent.

This personality made him well-liked wherever he went.

It was no wonder his royal siblings viewed him as a significant threat to their family's inheritance.

"At the mouth of the valley, we've spotted the third wave of the Tiger Tribe—four or five squads... Wait!" A voice shouted through the wind and snow, the sound of barking dogs accompanying him. A lookout from a high tower warned, "A giant beast! There's a giant beast..."

A creature fit for the battlefield? Everyone felt as if they had plunged into an ice pit.

At the warning, Ryan... no, the illegitimate son, Kent, narrowed his eyes.

They really want to eliminate me completely.

To want me dead so soon after my arrival… this opening act leaves much to be desired.

First, he needed to survive before he could think about anything else.

"Splitting Blade, organize a few people to move the barrels of oil and the stone jars of wine from the wagon at the back..."