A cloud of gloom hung over the War Pig camp.
Even though they knew the tide had turned, they still tried their best to put on a posture of fighting to the death, praying only to earn a sliver of capital for mercy from the humans.
The envoy had already gone to the human encampment.
And they were still sharpening their blades, preparing to meet their end. Little did they know, the fate of those young War Pigs with the most fighting spirit and highest morale had already been sealed.
The Sage of the War Pigs, Cyril, seemed to be even more stooped than before.
Within the human encampment, gazes as cold as knives fell upon him.
He knew very well—if he could not convince that Saintess, the butcher’s blade would fall upon the War Pigs.
“I greet the Saintess.”
“Cyril.”
Aililan’s voice carried clear displeasure. In the past, she had maintained a degree of respect for this Sage, but now she addressed him directly by name.
A single form of address had drawn a clear line between them.
“Saintess, perhaps we should talk.”
“What is there to talk about? The war was started by you War Pigs. Now you want to stop just like that? Do you think we humans are made of clay?”
As Aililan’s words fell, Gareyas suddenly drew his sword and with one slash, cleaved the table before him in two.
“Talk, my ass! At most three days, once the Jackal Tribe is assembled, we’ll press forward with everything we have and wipe them out to the last! All who betrayed humanity must die!”
“The War Pigs must die.”
“Lord Gareyas, you overestimate the War Pigs too much. Those clans that attached themselves to them have long since lost their loyalty. Once we launch the final assault, they’ll be the first to flee.”
“Ungrateful scoundrels, hmph.”
“Why dirty our hands? We can just let the Winged People handle the War Pigs when the time comes. It would be merciful if they let any War Pig live past the height of a wagon wheel.”
“Wait, when you say ‘past the height of a wagon wheel,’ you don’t mean… lying down, do you?”
The encampment instantly erupted in uproarious laughter.
Mockery, ridicule, contempt, and naked disdain filled the entire space.
This was the current standing of the War Pigs.
Even with Cyril’s steady temperament, his face now alternated between green and pale, and a bone-chilling cold arose in his heart.
Because the humans meant what they said.
But who could they blame for all this?
The humans had once poured vast resources into the War Pigs, even planning to help them establish a nation. But the War Pigs were insatiably greedy, bit the hand that fed them, and were now reaping what they had sown.
“Saintess Aililan, please hear me out.” Cyril’s voice carried a slight tremor.
“Hmm?”
Aililan gave a light wave of her hand, and the encampment instantly fell silent.
“Saintess… within our War Pig tribe, there were… the wrong people.”
“I don’t see anything to talk about.”
“Saintess, please listen to me—things shouldn’t have turned out this way…”
“Cyril.” Aililan interrupted coldly. “Out of respect for you as a Sage, but are you insulting my intelligence? Do you truly think I am unaware of what your War Pigs have done?”
“The Saintess is right… So we are paying the price for our mistakes. We implore you to give us a chance.”
“How are you paying the price? My chances are not so easily given.”
“Our chief, Baccus, is willing to atone for his crimes with his death.”
“Are you joking?”
Aililan sneered. “If I break into your camp, I can just as easily string Baccus up and chop him into three hundred and sixty pieces.”
Cyril fell silent again.
Just as Aililan grew impatient and was about to have him expelled, Cyril suddenly knelt.
“This time, all the main war faction, a total of three hundred and twenty-six War Pig tribesmen, will atone with their deaths, including Baccus… What do you think?”
“Three hundred and twenty-six?”
Aililan let out a laugh, beckoned for someone to bring a list, and casually tossed it at Cyril’s feet.
“I recall it was two thousand, seven hundred and forty-six people.”
“Wh… what?”
“Cyril, don’t say I’m not giving you a chance. These two thousand seven hundred plus people are all the young and aggressive faction within your War Pig tribe who instigated the war.”
Her tone was indifferent:
“Before dawn, deliver their heads to me.”
“Otherwise—in three days, I will come and take them myself.”
Cyril shuddered all over.
Aililan paused, then added:
“Furthermore, I will not kill Baccus.”
“I want him to personally execute these people, then abdicate, handing his position over to his daughter, Naris.”
“Saintess… you…”
Cyril left, utterly dejected.
When the news returned to the War Pig camp, it was like a boulder dropped into the sea, stirring up towering waves.
After the anger came powerlessness and despair.
Only two paths lay before them:
The first—fight to the death, the entire tribe perishes.
The second—kill the young and aggressive faction, live on in humiliation.
Die with dignity.
Live in humiliation.
They had to choose one.
At this moment, it was actually Baccus’s generation whose blood boiled with fervor.
While the young and aggressive faction fell into silence.
“Chief, if we die, will the humans truly spare the War Pigs?” a representative of the young faction asked.
Baccus shook his head in agony. “No! Don’t think like that! As long as we live, there is hope! We can break out—”
“And what about our families?”
The man’s voice was low. “The humans wouldn’t even need to lift a finger. To prevent revenge, the Winged People would slaughter all our children.”
“They wouldn’t dare!”
“Chief… perhaps we were truly wrong.”
“Don’t think such thoughts! Come back! I forbid you from doing this!”
However, it was already impossible to stop.
That night, hundreds of young War Pigs chose to die with dignity.
Those unwilling to be dignified were forced to be dignified.
All for the continuation of the tribe.
It was a hatred that cut to the bone.
They hated the humans, and hated that Saintess even more.
Yet—
What did that have to do with Aililan?
Watching the pile of heads stacked like a small hill, intelligence personnel were checking them one by one. If any were missing, the War Pigs would have to make up for them.
Gareyas frowned and whispered, “Saintess, this is a blood feud… Aren’t you afraid?”
Aililan lightly covered her nose and mouth, blocking the stench, and said calmly:
“Gareyas, don’t just focus on the War Pigs.”
“Look further, at all the Beastmen.”
“If one day we breach the Beastman Royal Court, how should we rule?”
“Even if we promote racial integration, with the Beastmen’s population size, it would be difficult to implement.”
“So—how to control the population? And how to reduce it on a large scale?”
Gareyas fell silent.
“Take one step, but see a hundred steps ahead.”
“You only see the threat of the War Pigs.”
“But in my eyes—”
Aililan’s tone was flat:
“The War Pigs are but a single wave in the torrent of the era.”
“If they can even get my shoes wet, that would be a testament to their ability.”
Her words were light and casual.
Yet they plunged Gareyas into deep shock and contemplation.
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