Chapter 93: 93 Unexpected Intelligence

Chapter 93: Unexpected Intelligence

The last time he triggered the Slayer King achievement was on his way to the first visit to Woodland Town, when he slew the Skeleton Guild mage, Pedro.

Today, Rowning seized the opportunity to complete the requirement of [Slain Tier-Three Supernatural Unit] by killing Srein.

He casually checked the achievement interface—the Slayer King achievement had already been updated.

【Slayer King】: Kill any Tier-Four Supernatural Unit. Reward: +200 Attribute Points, +400 Energy Essences.

Though the reward this time had increased significantly over the previous three, a Tier-Four Supernatural Unit—if human—meant a Bronze-Rank Knight or a Grand Mage.

Such beings typically held status and influence; slaying them was no simple matter.

For instance, if a noble family possessed a Bronze-Rank Knight who had a feud with Rowning and was subsequently killed, unless that feud was grave enough to warrant death, Rowning might face severe retribution from the family.

But if it were a beast, matters became far simpler.

After all, a finishing blow would still complete the achievement. So perhaps Rowning could enter the Wushan Mountains a few times—surely he’d encounter a Tier-Four beast eventually?

“My Lord, what shall we do with these people?”

Ridal approached, gesturing toward the group of Gray Earth Tribe members kneeling under control.

Rowning walked over, scanning them. “Which among you are professional knights?”

“I am!”

“I am too!”

“I as well...”

Including Mam, five professional knights answered in frantic unison.

In this world, even defeated professional knights were more desirable than common folk. Even if the victor had no use for their loyalty, they could be sold to slave markets—and still survive, albeit in chains.

Rowning nodded slightly, turning to the remaining five cavalrymen. “Will you pledge allegiance to me—or will you die like Srein, defiant to the last?”

All the captives shouted in unison: “We pledge!”

At this moment, not one among them harbored another thought.

Even Mam, who had just fled, now knelt in supplication. Since escape was impossible, he would beg for mercy. If Jennie demanded justice, he would weep and plead—anything to live.

“I accept your oaths,” Rowning said, “but I despise traitors.”

His gaze settled on Mam—the man reminded him of a legendary figure: Lü Bu, the turncoat who served three lords.

Yet Lü Bu possessed true prowess. Mam? He was nothing but a shadow.

Rowning had subdued these wild tribes far too easily. His public image had been one of mercy, never cruelty.

Mercy was a noble virtue—but unchecked, it bred weakness. It made men think him soft.

Now, all surviving supernaturals from the three tribes stood before him—perfect timing to show them what could be done... and what could never be forgiven.

“Jennie, you mentioned Mam before. Wasn’t he originally from your Purple Berry Tribe?”

Rowning glanced back at Jennie. As the battle ended, a crowd of Purple Berry villagers had gathered to watch, even timid Aelin standing beside her parents.

Jennie hesitated.

To say “kill him” seemed petty.

To say “spare him” left her uncertain of Rowning’s true intent.

But remembering his earlier words—“I despise traitors”—she paused, then replied: “Mam betrayed the Purple Berry Tribe first, then Srein afterward. The word ‘traitor’ is already branded into his soul.”

“If Your Lordship dislikes traitors, then sell him to the slave market.” She offered her answer.

Mam, kneeling, immediately protested: “Jennie, I joined the Gray Earth Tribe out of necessity! The Black Collar Tribe was strong—and had patrons. If Gray Earth couldn’t hold them, our three-tribe alliance would be devoured whole!”

His voice was firm, unshaken. “I acted for the good of the alliance—for all three tribes! Joining Gray Earth strengthened our bond, ensured our survival! This is not betrayal!”

Jennie snorted coldly. “Not betrayal? Then why did you repeatedly come to persuade me? Why did you threaten that if I didn’t join Gray Earth, my family would be destroyed?”

Rowning raised a hand, halting their bickering.

“You said... Black Collar Tribe has patrons?”

He latched onto the phrase. Curious. What patronage could a wild tribe possibly have? Was there another, greater tribe beyond these four?

“Honorable Baron, Black Collar Tribe does indeed have patrons!”

Mam’s tone instantly shifted from defiant to reverent. “Lord Raisen of Sain Domain is his patron. Without Sain Domain’s backing, Black Collar could never have grown so swiftly—or dared to face all three of us alone.”

Rowning blinked, nearly laughed.

So after all this, Sain Domain had been dragged into it.

“Is that true?” Rowning asked again, skeptical.

“Yes, my Lord!” Mam’s brow glistened with sweat. He was under immense pressure—praying this tidbit would alter the Baron’s view of him.

“Srein told me. He said their leader, Joffrey, tried to recruit him using this excuse. But Srein wanted to lead himself, so he refused.”

He pointed to Babulin beside him. “I hadn’t joined Gray Earth yet—but Babulin was there. He heard it too.”

Rowning turned to the middle-aged captive kneeling nearby. “Is this true?”

“Yes, my Lord!” Babulin kept his head bowed, avoiding Rowning’s eyes. “I was present. I heard it with my own ears.”

Rowning nodded slowly—this information was confirmed.

It seemed Lord Raisen didn’t merely covet Woodland Town—he aimed to swallow every wild tribe within the Northern Woods.

Perhaps he shared Rowning’s ambition: to absorb all of Wushan’s northern territories and become the undisputed ruler of the north.

“Though you spun a plausible tale about betraying Purple Berry, your desertion of Srein during battle is undeniable.”

The topic returned to Mam’s fate. “I do not employ traitors. Nor do I wish to be betrayed by my own men. I will not accept your plea. Nor will I sell you to the slave market.”

“No! You cannot!”

Mam trembled violently. “My strength may not be the greatest, but my management, my wisdom—they surpass them all! If you spare me, I will follow you to my dying breath!”

Management? Wisdom?

Rowning saw none of it.

He waved a hand. “Traitors are better dead.”

“You—!”

Mam’s eyes bulged. He struggled to rise—only to feel the cold kiss of a blade severing his throat. His body went limp, collapsing to the earth.

The scent of blood drifted through the Purple Berry village. Mam’s corpse lay like a crimson line drawn in the dirt—a warning to all who had surrendered to Rowning in recent days: some lines cannot be crossed.

“McKen, handle these captives. Use those who are useful. Deal with the rest as you see fit.”

Rowning ordered. “Ridal, you leave tomorrow to take control of the Gray Earth Tribe. Oh—and if Wilson has finished the census of the Green Bamboo Tribe, bring him along.”

He would not go to Gray Earth himself. Other matters required his attention here.

Once things stabilized there, he would appear—inspect, observe.

If Black Collar Tribe had Sain Domain meddling in its affairs, then this could no longer be handled lightly.

If the other side reported his annexation of the wildling tribes, and the higher-ups responded by appointing a knight-errant or some minor baron to claim this land, it would bring unnecessary trouble.

Better to maintain the status quo for a while longer, until the right moment arrives, when Roning may lawfully claim all the land north of Mountainwood for himself.

By then, shouldn’t he be a viscount?

The Viscount of Wu Bei.

“Jenny, Horn, I leave the cleanup to you.”

Roning gave the two a casual instruction.

“No problem, my lord!”

Roning chuckled, turning to Ellyn beside him—only to find fear and avoidance flickering in her gaze. Had the earlier events frightened the child?

To decide a person’s life or death in a single word—yes, that naturally bred dread.

Roning smiled and gently stroked Ellyn’s head, then stepped toward the house. “Elron, come with me.”

(End of Chapter)