Chapter Forty-Eight: The Slave Girl

Eve stood at the gate with the members of her tribe, her expression calm, though her mind wandered through memories of the past.

Her husband and eldest son had both been exceptional leaders—strong, quick-witted, and resolute. Yet, the ceaseless wars had taken them from her. Now, she had only her honest, simple-minded younger son, Worrell, to lead the tribe against the increasingly arrogant Star Moon Tribe. Over the years, the Silver Moon Tribe’s resources had dwindled, their numbers steadily decreasing, leaving their position within the Moon Alliance precarious.

She sighed deeply in her heart.

She had hoped her youngest son would return this time with powerful allies. But the messenger brought back word that he had found only a single companion. This news fanned the flames of dissent among those who doubted Worrell’s suitability as leader. Indeed, no matter how capable the newcomer might be, what could one man accomplish?

Those people never considered—besides Worrell, who else could shoulder this responsibility? Would they prefer Isidore, the old man who only knew how to cook and foster relations with other tribes, to take charge? In this world, strength still determined everything. At least Worrell was an outstanding warrior. For that alone, she had to support him unwaveringly.

With this in mind, Eve clenched her fists and straightened her back. By gathering her people to welcome Worrell home, she made it clear to all: in the Silver Moon Tribe, Worrell’s position was unshakable.

Suddenly, shouts and the sounds of blows came from behind her. She turned to see a male goblin wielding a stick, striking three female goblins—slaves. The goblin tribe kept slaves, usually prisoners of war or acquired through trade. In recent years, as the Silver Moon Tribe’s strength waned, the number of slaves had dwindled to just seven, of which these three women—goblins, to be precise—were all that remained.

Seeing her subordinate disciplining the slaves, Eve looked away. In the distance, a troop emerged from behind the mountain.

Standing atop the wagon, Christina spotted the crowd at the gate and immediately realized her grandmother and the others were there to welcome her. She shouted with joy, leapt off the wagon, and ran gleefully toward the camp.

“Sun Licheng, up ahead is the Silver Moon Tribe. That must be Mother waiting to greet us,” Worrell exclaimed to Sun Licheng beside him, his face alight with the excitement of returning home. The young girl had already thrown herself into Eve’s arms.

“Mother, I’m back. All our clansmen are safe and well,” Worrell said, straightening his furs and addressing his mother with solemnity.

Eve, fondly stroking Christina’s hair, smiled, “You did well this time, my child—like a true leader.”

Receiving his mother’s approval, Worrell scratched his head sheepishly and grinned.

After greeting Isidore, Eve took Christina by the hand and turned to Sun Licheng with a smile. “You must be the brave warrior who saved my son—Sir Sun Licheng, I presume?”

Imitating Worrell’s previous gestures, Sun Licheng placed his right hand on his chest and bowed. “I am Sun Licheng. Worrell is a brave warrior. Fighting alongside him has been my honor; you needn’t be so formal. In the days to come, I will rely on you and the Silver Moon Tribe.”

With that, he whistled, and the Wolf King pulled the wagon up to them.

“This is my first visit, so I’ve brought some gifts. I hope you’ll accept them,” Sun Licheng said, gesturing toward the wagon.

Eve’s face lit up at the sight of the many items aboard and she instructed one of the chieftains to lead Sun Licheng and the wagon into the camp.

As Sun Licheng moved away, Eve turned to Worrell, voicing her uncertainty. “This Sun Licheng looks only fifteen or sixteen, yet he carries himself with such composure.”

“I don’t know either. By age, I could be his father, yet his demeanor is even more mature than Uncle Isidore’s,” Worrell whispered, scratching his head. He glanced nervously at Isidore, who was speaking with someone else, and relaxed only when he saw he hadn’t been overheard.

“Is that so?” Eve mused, thoughtful.

If Sun Licheng knew, he would surely exclaim, “We’re the same age, my friend!”

…

In the tribe’s great hall, water boiled over the fire as Eve, Worrell, Isidore, and six other chieftains gathered to discuss how to receive Sun Licheng.

“I hope we can recruit Sun Licheng into the Silver Moon Tribe,” Worrell declared firmly. If Sun Licheng joined, it would not only strengthen the tribe but also solve his daughter’s future—a solution he was eager to support.

“No. Aside from the slaves, our tribe has never accepted someone of a different faith,” came a sardonic voice—Isidore shaking his head in disapproval.

“Our tribe is in dire straits. If someone has strength and worships the Moon Goddess, they’d surely join a larger tribe instead. For our tribe’s future, we must accept more warriors,” Worrell argued loudly.

“No. Faith in the Silver Moon Goddess is a matter of principle,” Isidore insisted.

“You—” Worrell was growing angry. The old man’s obstinacy was infuriating, and he was on the verge of an outburst.

“All right. Elder Isidore is correct—our devotion to the Silver Moon Goddess is the foundation of our tribe’s survival. This is not up for debate. As for Sun Licheng, he is our guest. We can offer him as much help as possible,” Eve interrupted, setting the tone for the discussion.

“Very well,” Worrell could only accept the decision with resignation.

Meanwhile, Sun Licheng was helping the goblins process a massive black fish.

A group of goblins struggled to unload the giant fish from the wagon, carrying it to a dry patch of ground. Spotting the stone slabs at his feet, Sun Licheng realized this was the tribe’s cooking area.

“All right, let me handle it,” he said, watching the goblins cycle through various tools, even bringing out a crude bronze axe, all in vain attempts to cut through the fish’s tough skin. At last, Sun Licheng drew his broadsword and stepped forward.

With a series of sharp chops, the massive fish was quickly divided into several pieces, making the rest of the work much easier.

A cheer rose from the onlookers at his display of skill. Christina, standing beside him, gazed at him with shining eyes full of admiration.

Though he was well past forty, the atmosphere here made Sun Licheng feel quite elated.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of a clay jar shattering silenced the crowd.

Sun Licheng turned to see an ugly woman—one of the slaves—had dropped the jar of salt he’d brought, scattering the precious amber grains on the dirt, where they were spoiled by murky water.

“Look at what you’ve done! I’ll kill you!”

With a roar, a burly male goblin rushed over, kicking the woman who was desperately trying to salvage the salt. He raised his stick and began to beat her mercilessly, the woman screaming in pain as she curled on the ground.

Suddenly, Sun Licheng felt his emotions seized by some mysterious force—his attention fixed entirely on the battered, ugly woman. With each strike of the stick, his anger surged uncontrollably.

“Stop!” Sun Licheng shouted, striding forward to wrench the stick from the man’s grasp and shoving him to the ground.

The crowd stared in astonishment at Sun Licheng, standing like a tower of iron before the woman.

“Sun Licheng, that’s a female slave,” Christina whispered, tugging at his sleeve.

“A slave?” Sun Licheng was surprised.

“Yes, and a goblin woman at that,” Christina added.

The male goblin, now picking himself up, glared furiously at Sun Licheng, his face flushed with rage. A few other male goblins, evidently his followers, appeared behind him—he seemed to be some minor leader.

“You may be a guest, but you can’t act so rudely. I was disciplining my slave—what gives you the right to interfere?” he shouted, though caution lingered in his voice.

“Yeah, what gives you the right to push Luther?” “Yes, what gives you the right?” his supporters echoed.

“What right? Damn it, I don’t even know! What’s gotten into me? Why did I act so recklessly?” Sun Licheng cursed inwardly, but now he was committed. Facing the furious Luther and his men, he remained silent, turning instead to help the slave woman to her feet.

The woman was homely and bloodied, her appearance causing Sun Licheng to frown. Still, he did not let go, for in her eyes he saw fear, gratitude, and disbelief.

“What a pitiful soul,” Sun Licheng thought, a strange sense of kinship welling inside him. “What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel this way?”

He tapped his head, feeling something was amiss.

With Sun Licheng ignoring him, Luther and his gang grew more agitated, some even drawing their weapons. Sun Licheng responded with a cold smile, gripping his sword’s hilt and shielding the slave behind him.

Just as the confrontation threatened to erupt, Christina stomped her feet in distress. At that moment, a thunderous voice commanded, “Enough! All of you, stop!”

Someone had gone to fetch the chieftain. Eve arrived with Worrell and the others.