Chapter 88: 88 Offering a Strategy

Chapter 88: Offering a Strategy

In their previous conversation, Ronin had already gained some understanding of the size of the Purple Berry Tribe.

Though its population was under three hundred, it exceeded his expectations—Jenny’s family included, the Purple Berry Tribe totaled 242 souls, cultivating 806 mu of farmland.

Besides a modest amount of vegetables, the majority of the land was planted with barley and wheat.

The vast expanse of farmland was primarily the legacy of a time when the tribe’s population had been much larger—rumor had it that at its peak, four or five hundred people had lived here.

Now, with fewer than three hundred remaining, the grain yield was modest, yet the food supply was relatively more abundant.

According to Jenny’s estimate, this autumn’s harvest would yield over thirty thousand jin of barley, and when combined with previously gathered wheat and stored wild greens, the tribe would surely survive the winter.

Before deciding to convert the barley fields into mulberry groves, Ronin chose to wait until dawn to inspect the condition of the mulberry forest.

Though he now held silkworm cocoons in his hands, turning them into silk remained a formidable challenge.

He knew the steps—boiling the cocoons, reeling the silk—but he had no spinning wheel, no loom; weaving was an obstacle.

Yet his domain raised flocks of sheep, yielding wool each year. Many women at home engaged in simple weaving, and tools such as spindles and looms existed here—though crude.

Though these instruments could not be used to weave silk—silk being far more delicate and intricate—sometimes understanding mattered more than tools.

If they could grasp that silk could also be woven into cloth, with time and persistent trial, they might one day produce silk.

Ronin remembered Tom’s mother ran a tailor’s shop; she was likely skilled in weaving. Once back, he could ask her to study the matter of silkworm silk.

Of course, he would assist.

His understanding of sericulture was unparalleled—he had proposed boiling cocoons and reeling silk, a leap from nothing to something.

That night, Ronin dined a “sumptuous” meal at Jenny’s home.

Before Ronin, Macken, and the other transcendent ones stood a dish of white fruits. The subordinates ate with great delight, yet Ronin could not bring himself to touch his portion.

Primarily, preconceived notions weighed on him—he found the idea of the dish too heavy, too grotesque, evoking images of dark, writhing pupae that stirred revulsion.

Yet beneath Eileen’s eager gaze, Ronin reluctantly took a bite.

To his surprise, the fried silkworm pupae were crisp on the outside, tender within, and fragrant beyond measure.

“How is it? Delicious, isn’t it?” Eileen asked with a beaming smile.

Ronin nodded, smiling. “Setting aside its appearance, fried silkworm pupae are truly a delicacy. I’ve heard not only is the flavor excellent, but its nutritional value is high.”

Those seated around the table nodded as they ate, having never tasted such fare before—this visit to the Purple Berry Tribe had granted them a novel experience.

Sated and full, two servants cleared the dishes, and all the transcendent ones gathered in the parlor.

Flickering candlelight faintly illuminated their blurred faces. They knew: the Baron would now unveil his next battle plan.

It had been less than two days since leaving the Forest Town, yet they had already seized two savage tribes—swift indeed.

“Our next target is the Ash Soil Tribe.”

Ronin scanned the group. “But you know they’ve built fortifications, and their number of transcendent warriors exceeds both the Purple Berry and Green Bamboo Tribes. A direct assault would not come without losses, as it did yesterday and today.”

His gaze settled on Jenny. “Jenny, I recall you mentioned a way to secure the Ash Soil Tribe with less effort and time. What is your plan?”

One-meter-forty-two-tall Eileen sat beside her mother, listening in silence.

Her eyes darted between the faces around her.

Until today, she would never have imagined that these older brothers and uncles—even her own parents—would hold such reverence for this young man who seemed scarcely older than herself. For the first time, she truly understood that status and authority bore little relation to age.

Her gaze finally rested on Ronin—the silver-haired boy was utterly captivating.

Jenny did not know what her daughter was thinking. Her own thoughts were fixed on offering a strategy to her new lord—her oath of loyalty.

“The leader of the Ash Soil Tribe is named ‘Slein.’ His ancestors were merely common refugees, but he awakened a martial qi seed, and over the years his strength has grown steadily—he is now a thirty-eight-year-old High Knight, stronger than Horn by a slight margin.”

Ronin glanced at Knight Horn. The man was only a Middle Knight, yet barely weaker than a High Knight. Clearly, Horn was either on the verge of breakthrough, or his combat experience and technique surpassed his opponent.

It seemed Horn and Jenny’s cultivation talents were not insignificant—no wonder their daughter possessed such exceptional potential.

Jenny continued: “My lord, you’ve likely heard from Woton and Dandi that our three tribes formed a tripartite alliance. In its early days, we clashed several times with the Black Land Tribe, and during that time, communication among us was frequent.”

She paused, glancing at her husband, then went on: “Slein has repeatedly confessed his feelings to me, urging me to leave Horn and live with him in the Ash Soil Tribe. I have always refused.”

Ronin rubbed his nose. Of course—romantic entanglements occurred everywhere, even among savage tribes struggling for survival.

He studied Jenny anew.

To his own heart, her beauty rated a six out of ten—not beautiful by any stretch.

But here, in the northern woods, she would rank among the most beautiful.

And do not forget—Jenny was born into a viscount’s family. Though the Frank family had declined, she came from true nobility.

Decent looks, noble birth, and the power of a Middle Mage—such a woman was irresistibly alluring to others.

It was entirely reasonable that Slein desired her.

And yet she refused—perhaps because her bond with Horn ran deep, and she had a daughter; perhaps because she simply despised a man like Slein.

Ronin glanced at Horn. His expression remained unchanged—he clearly knew of this. Perhaps even fought Slein.

After all, Jenny had just said Slein was slightly stronger.

Without testing, without clashing, how could such a conclusion be drawn?

His eyes returned to Jenny. He smiled. “So—you plan to use the Beauty Stratagem?”

Beauty Stratagem?

The others stirred, ears perking up. They had never heard the term before.

“Thank you for your compliment, my lord!”

Jenny blushed slightly. “Though I’ve never heard the phrase ‘Beauty Stratagem,’ your meaning aligns closely with my thoughts.”

For a moment, Ronin did not understand why she suddenly felt shy and thanked him.

Then it struck him—she thought he had been praising her beauty.

“My lord,” Jenny continued, “Horn and Slein have always been at odds.”

“I could write Slein a letter, claiming Horn has ascended to High Knight, grown furious over years of subordination to me and the humiliations he suffered at Slein’s hands, and has now gone mad—imprisoning both me and Eileen. I beg him to send men to rescue us.”

Horn watched his wife helplessly. How had this gentle, devoted husband, this man who loved his wife and daughter, become a monster?

Macken, however, was inwardly stunned. Women’s words could not be trusted—this scheme was cunning, ruthless.

Ronin nodded. He had expected as much.

Yet he hesitated. “Will Slein believe it?”

“Yes,” Jenny said with certainty. “Slein has always considered himself the leader of the tripartite alliance. He is arrogant, self-important, stubborn. Most crucially—he not only covets me, but has also set his sights on Eileen.”

Her gaze grew cold—perhaps the natural instinct of a mother whose child’s safety was threatened.

“Upon receiving my plea, he could kill Horn, absorb the Purple Berry Tribe, and claim us as his own. He will not resist.”

Ronin frowned, glancing at Eileen, who had shrunk deeper into her mother’s arms. He had not realized there was this layer to the story.

Now he understood—perhaps part of why Jenny and Horn had surrendered so readily was to protect Eileen’s safety.

Yet, regardless of the reasons or intentions behind their allegiance, Ronin greatly approved of the opponent’s stratagem.

“Agreed!”

Ronin gave his assent. “Let’s try it, just as you’ve proposed.”

(End of Chapter)