218 Tuscahara Tribe

When the An Clan left Tongshu province, they rode their horses through the fields of the western lands until arriving at their camp a few miles away.

The white shafts of daylight had passed, replaced with the shadows of evening. A large bonfire in the center was lit and the flames rose boldly against the black sky. Before that great fire, the Tuhan's skin glowed red, orange, and gold.

Every eye reflected the flickering flames, each iris containing a small picture of the bonfire before them. The men were smiling and jesting among themselves while enjoying the feast.

In one of the camp's [1]yurts, An Ruo, Manchu, and other members of Tuhan men gathered around inside. A faint light shone down through hidden windows above. Sheepskins were scattered across the mud floor. They drank fresh, fruitful wine and ate delicious roasted meat from the prey they hunted not too long ago.

"Commander, how come we didn't just invade the province and be done with it? Why spare them?" A Tuhan soldier couldn't help but ask, his comment causing the other men to recall their commander's actions earlier.

Although they didn't say anything, everyone else was curious as to why they showed mercy. Even if the province surrendered, the An Clan would show mercy to no one. They would kill, enslave, and take all the women for themselves. That was their way.

Yet today, their commander showed a rare sign of tolerance. This decision confused many of them.

An Ruo faced their inquisitive stares and grinned. He rested a hand on his knee and happened to direct his sights on a certain figure standing in the far corner. While the rest were enjoying their feast, Manchu had settled himself in a chair by the window and stared out with a vague expression.

He couldn't care less about what they were discussing.

An Ruo smirked and looked back at the Tuhan men.

"I want something they have. Something very valuable."

"Then why don't we just kill all of them and take it?" A Tuhan man asked.

The others voiced their agreement and nodded their heads. An Ruo shook his head as if they spoke of something absurd.

"Something, no--someone like this is not to be taken so easily. If I want to take them, I need more preparation."

Manchu, who had been drinking quietly in the corner, suddenly froze to An Ruo's words. He tried not to look in his direction to divert suspicion, the unease in his chest surging forward. His eyes were still filled with murky, unreadable depths, and his thin lips were pressed into a line.

"What makes this person so important?" Someone asked.

The crackling sound of burning coal from the braziers on their sides sounded through the room. With an unreadable look, An Ruo's eyes glinted mysteriously.

"My father once told me about a story. It was a legend about a tribe called the Tuscahara, who once settled across the Eastern Empire's lands. Their men and women possessed blond hair and green eyes. This extraordinary appearance of theirs was said to be because they were the children of God. However, in the years to come, the tribe was attacked by rulers of the Eastern Empire. Nearly half were enslaved under the belief of their ability to grant their masters great success. When this was proven to be true, more people sought members of the tribe. That's when the Tuscahara people started to disappear. Those that were enslaved died of a mysterious illness. The remaining was never to be found. It is said that they still linger among the empires, hiding."

His eyes seemed to carry more passion than usual as he stared at the red coal, which had almost been swallowed in darkness. His deep gaze was currently filled with greed.

"I never believed in the legend until a few years ago, and now."

"You mean..." A Tuhan men's eyes widened.

The usually icy expression on An Ruo's suddenly turned into a smile.

"That's right. Someone from the Tuscahara tribe is among Tongshu province. It's clear they're supporting them, so simply attacking won't work."

Finally understanding their commander's reasoning, the Tuhan's eyes lit up. After hearing An Ruo's previous words of the Tuscahara people, they couldn't help but grow excited. Even if it was a legend, there was always truth among them. If they had someone like that on their side, they would be unstoppable.

At this moment, Manchu suddenly stood up, catching everyone's attention. The eyebrow on An Ruo's face raised.

"Is something wrong, Manchu?" He asked.

"I have no interest in listening to legends." Manchu saw a darkness in An Ruo's eyes when he said these words, and soon after he had spoken he walked out of the yurt, ignoring the contemptuous expressions.

Stepping outside, Manchu never stopped walking forward. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew he needed to clear his head.

Manchu wasn't stupid.

While he didn't completely believe in the ability of the Tuscahara people, he knew they existed. After all, the little strategist was enough proof.

Manchu seemed to recall the words An Ruo spoke in the yurt.

[I never believed in the legend until a few years ago, and now."]

These words conjured up the memory of seeing a man with blond hair and green eyes with An Ruo. Perhaps that man was someone from the Tuscahara tribe. As these messy thoughts brawled back and forth inside his head, he managed to walk a rather far distance.

An Ruo...he wanted the little strategist.

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[1]Yurt - A traditional yurt or ger is a portable, round tent covered with skins or felt and used as a dwelling by several distinct nomadic groups in the steppes of Central Asia. The structure consists of an angled assembly or latticework of wood or bamboo for walls, a door frame, ribs, and a wheel possibly steam-bent.