"Boss, those barrels of black oil?" Splitting Blade tossed a tiger clan corpse down the cliff and looked at Kent with a hint of confusion after hearing his command.
"Stop dawdling and get moving! Hurry!" Kent shouted.
The valley entrance was roughly two thousand meters away from the rock wall. From the first sighting to actual combat, they had around ten minutes to prepare.
Four or five squads—about fifty warriors.
Combat tactics on this continent were straightforward and forceful, with little in terms of actual strategy. The tiger clan especially relied on raw strength, with no sense of teamwork. It wasn't surprising they thought their formidable warriors could leap over a four-meter-high wall with ease.
Luckily, this time, the tiger clan had not sent an organized battalion but rather a few tribal guard warriors, not professional battle troops. To the tiger clan, it probably seemed simple enough to send a few squads to kill a royal bastard from a highland clan.
What they didn't know was how much they could gain in return for killing him.
After his new identities as a time traveler and an illegitimate son quickly fused together, Kent's intense desire to survive merged with a thirst for vengeance. Suppressing his disorientation, he realized that his first task was to stay calm and strategize.
In his newfound role, Kent found a welcome surprise in the bastard's past: a penchant for tinkering with new ideas. Kent had a few barrels of black oil stored on the cart—oil that could be set alight, producing thick black smoke. The poor used it to help burn damp wood, but the bastard had toyed with the idea of using it to make lamps that could burn all night. So he'd ordered the guards to load several barrels of it.
This is oil—perfect material for an incendiary bomb.
Watching Kent command the guards and hunters to empty out dozens of jugs of the dwarf's ale, then fill them with the black oil, Splitting Blade was bewildered. He watched as Kent tore apart an expensive roll of linen cloth into strips, twisted them into wads, and stuffed them into the mouth of each jug.
These jugs, although small and only about the size of a human head, were precious dwarf's ale! And that linen roll—it was worth two gold coins!
Had Kent gone mad? Was he trying to scare the tiger clan away with thick smoke?
Splitting Blade tried to hide his discomfort. The tiger clan had brought a giant beast capable of directly smashing through defensive structures, shattering any sliver of hope he had.
"Boss, let's retreat into the valley. We might be able to hide up in the mountains." He bit his lip and suggested.
Kent raised his head, looking at Splitting Blade with a doubtful gaze, then glanced back at the valley behind the rock wall. There, scattered across the gentle slope, were makeshift huts of stone and branches—the dwellings of the native inhabitants.
The hillside was packed with people, mostly elderly, women, and children dressed in rags.
If the tiger clan hadn't come, today would have been the day these natives met their new lord—himself.
These people were now his first subjects.
Although he couldn't see clearly, Kent was certain that fear—and a small glimmer of hope—were visible on every face.
Because their men were on the rock wall.
If they gave up the wall, everything would be over.
They would all die.
Kent, the bastard, would die too. And Ryan, the time traveler, would also die.
Death, death, death… why was death the only option? Was survival that hard?
Blood surged to his head, and he felt something inside ignite as he began to breathe heavily.
"Look behind you! Where could we possibly hide? Damn it—" He shot Splitting Blade a fierce glare, clenching his teeth as he growled, "I'm the lord! This is my land—"
Though his voice was low, many on the wall heard him.
"If we retreat, we lose everything!" He spat fiercely on the ground and raised his voice, shouting, "I'm going to keep you all alive. Do you… want to live?"
"Yes…"
"Dammit, are you all cowards? Do you want to live?"
"Yes!"
"Louder! I can't hear you—"
"Yes!"
"Screw it! Fight the tiger clan!"
"Survive!"
"Survive—"
…
Facing the valley entrance, the figures of the tiger clan and a massive beast were now visible.
Kent stood on the edge of the wall, gripping a large stone outcrop—an ideal spot for shooting arrows—with such force that his knuckles were whitening.
Splitting Blade noticed a new intensity in Kent's gaze. Perhaps facing the tiger clan in direct combat had awakened a primal ferocity in him. For a moment, Splitting Blade saw the resolute spirit of a true wild clan leader in Kent's eyes.
That cold and ruthless look—it was like that of a dormant beast.
He began to understand why the royal sons had sent the bastard away.
"Crow, Scar, Pockmark, Bear…" Kent called out the names of a few guards.
"Yes!"
"Boss."
Several bloodstained men stepped forward. Some were tall, others short, some strong, others lean, but all wore the leather armor of guards. Their eyes were filled with a fierce, newly ignited resolve—a do-or-die determination.
"The positions I mentioned earlier," Kent instructed, "Wait for my signal. Watch me demonstrate."
"Understood, Boss!" They each took a few of the freshly crafted firebombs and moved to their assigned spots.
At twenty-meter intervals along the rock wall, several fires were lit.
In the wind and snow, the wood was hard to ignite, but the black oil served as a reliable fuel. Four fires billowed thick black smoke, a taunting signal to the advancing tiger clan.
The rock wall beneath them was somewhat worn and clearly old, but Kent could tell at a glance that its design and positioning came from someone skilled in defensive warfare. The wall was made from the valley's native red iron rock, durable and tough. Even a beast would need multiple ramming attempts to break through.
Stretching nearly a hundred meters, the wall wasn't a straight line or a simple curve. Instead, it had several protruding angles, like ridges, perfect for archers to collaborate from multiple angles in a crossfire.
"Boss…" Seeing the other guards entrusted with important tasks, Splitting Blade asked, a bit awkwardly, "What about me?"
"You?" Kent glanced at Splitting Blade. "Go climb the mountain."
"This… this… Hey, Boss, please cut a rough guy like me some slack," Splitting Blade mumbled, lowering his voice in an embarrassed plea. "If we beat back the tiger clan and I survive, you can deal with me however you like."
Kent understood that Splitting Blade's suggestions came from concern for him. As a guard, Splitting Blade was focused on ensuring his master survived. But as someone in Kent's position, he had to face the harsh reality of surviving—and living with dignity in the future.
If they truly reached a dead end, he would consider retreating from the wall as advised.
But right now, he believed there was one step left before that final point.
A step known as "fight to the death and live."
The native fierceness of these tribal people had only just begun to stir.
This group of natives, considered a lowly class, were used to being at the very bottom of society, oppressed and bullied. So, even with the tiger clan attacking, their participation in defending their home felt more forced than willing.
But when they thought their lord might abandon them, Kent stayed, giving them a glimmer of hope. And Kent's few fiercely provocative words just now had made them realize that their new lord truly saw this as his land and was determined to keep them alive!
The blood was heated now; the rest was up to fate.
No…
Kent glanced at the firebomb in his hand.
And to technology!