"This guy is really belligerent."
Watching Ye Zhan's retreating figure, Su Xingyu chuckled and said, "But you're right. It has been a while since we last fought."
Su Xingyu was never truly opposed to war. Now that the Ye Tribe had grown stronger, it was no longer the weak group that couldn't afford a loss.
This world follows a brutal law: the strong prey on the weak.
Big fish eat small fish. Small fish devour shrimp.
Large tribes absorb smaller ones, and even the smallest tribes seek prey weaker than themselves.
In such a world, it doesn't matter if you want peace or not.
All power lies in the hands of the powerful.
When you're strong enough, people may resent you, but none will dare to oppose you—even if you stand right in front of them. But if you're weak, no matter how far you flee, you'll still be hunted down.
The best way to avoid war is to become so strong that no one dares to challenge you.
Now that the Night Tribe had absorbed all their available resources, they needed a worthy opponent to test their might.
"A perfect opportunity to evaluate the incarnation of divine power," Su Xingyu mused, stroking his chin. It was time to prepare for the next plane expedition.
Several border outposts remained incomplete, and he had no intention of stationing foreign troops within his homeland just yet. The Blood-Red Mountains were still largely unexplored and too dangerous to claim at the moment. The Dark Cave was a tougher beast altogether—he would wait for the right time to strike.
That left only one option: the fragments of the void plane.
Plane fragments were enigmatic realms filled with diverse species and unpredictable threats. But for players, they were ideal training grounds.
First, the risk was manageable. If a player couldn't win a battle, they could retreat through the portal, avoiding serious losses. The creatures there couldn't chase them beyond the portal, making retreats safe.
Second, there was no worry of leaving one's homeland vulnerable. The portal allowed instant returns for defense if needed.
Third, the rewards were worth the effort. Capturing plane fragments granted system bonuses, and treasure chests often held far more useful items than plundering native settlements.
But most importantly, these fragments held the Origin of the World. Relying solely on their own plane's resources would result in painfully slow growth.
Su Xingyu's Instrument of Rules still awaited an upgrade. He had no patience to wait. Seizing fragments would accelerate everything.
And there was another reason: testing the incarnation of divine power.
No matter how powerful a weapon, it had to be tested in battle to prove its worth.
Su Xingyu had not yet created his incarnation, but the method was already in his hands. Forming it wouldn't be difficult, just a matter of expending divine power.
And divine power? He had it in abundance.
After two months of slumber, some of his divine concentration had diminished, but his vast number of believers ensured his divine source had only grown to staggering levels.
Considering all that, exploring the plane fragments wasn't just a good choice—it was the best one.
This wasn't just true for Su Xingyu. It was the ideal strategy for many players.
Especially those with monster tribes. With a little luck, they could gain an entirely new population from the fragments.
Su Xingyu recalled a goblin plane he had once explored. It contained hundreds of thousands of goblins. If a goblin-player had stumbled across it, they would have been ecstatic.
As for human tribes, based on current intelligence, they rarely appeared in the plane fragments. As a race with relatively average base stats, humans struggled to adapt to the wild, often chaotic conditions of these mysterious realms.
Still, that wouldn't deter Su Xingyu's resolve.
Time passed quickly.
Half a month later, within a fragment of the void—
A barren land stretched before them. Sparse vegetation dotted the cracked earth, and there was barely a trace of green in sight.
Spanning hundreds of miles, this fragment was medium-sized among others. Its lack of resources made it a desolate zone. Only one species had managed to thrive here:
A mutant variant of the ratman species—the gold-eating ratmen.
Larger than goblins, their bodies were wiry and tough, their blood-red eyes gleamed with greed. Sharp fangs and claws protruded from their hands, making weapons unnecessary.
At this moment, two massive armies stood on the scorched battlefield.
One side belonged to the Night Tribe Expeditionary Coalition—led by humans, supported by jackal warriors, and bolstered by semi-metal giants.
Nearly 100,000 strong, they were fully armed and overwhelmingly powerful.
Opposing them was a sea of ratmen, a tide so vast it stretched to the horizon. There were hundreds of thousands, perhaps more.
These creatures lived beneath the earth, devouring metal ores. They had no need for weapons—their claws were as deadly as forged blades.
Screeching and shrieking, the rat tide surged forward, an unstoppable wave of fur and fangs.
It had been ten days since the Night Tribe entered this fragment. They had clashed with the ratmen multiple times.
At first, the sheer number and ferocity of the rats overwhelmed the coalition. But now, they had adapted.
The troops were no longer panicked—they were prepared.
Given the terrain and enemy type, the coalition had brought few cavalry units. Infantry formed the bulk of the force.
The battle began with a roar of steel.
The towering semi-metal giants were the first to charge into the rat tide. Swinging their massive iron maces, they shattered the frontline. Bodies flew, limbs twisted mid-air, and blood sprayed in gruesome arcs.
But the ratmen were relentless.
"Chichichichi!"
They screamed in frenzy, rushing the giants with no regard for life or limb. Hundreds would sacrifice themselves for a single bite.
But this time, their assault was futile.
In the past, such an attack might have overwhelmed the giants. But things had changed.
The Night Tribe had grown stronger. After witnessing several divine descents, the semi-metal giants had become true believers of the Dark God.
Though the Dark Favor had less dramatic effect on their mechanical bodies compared to humans or jackals, they were further enhanced by the Instrument of Rules—specifically, Power.
It was a perfect match.
The ratmen's suicidal bites now left only faint white marks on their armor, unable to pierce the metal.
Still, the ratmen's sheer numbers were a threat. To avoid being engulfed, the giants didn't fight alone. They grouped in squads of three to five, carving through the enemy in coordinated strikes.
Over a thousand of these mechanical titans marched through the battlefield like colossal war machines—unstoppable and brutal.
But they were not the only force to fear.
The real carnage was wrought by the human warriors and the jackal soldiers.
"Kill!"
A human warrior swung his sword, and a ratman's head flew through the air. Blood fountained from the twitching neck as another claw slashed toward him. He raised his shield, blocked, and retaliated with a fatal blow.
On the other side, the jackals were in their element.
They wore armor but carried no shields. Their fighting style was raw and vicious.
Who needed defense when you could tear through enemies before they touched you?
They charged like beasts, eyes wild with bloodlust. Every swing of their blades felled several ratmen at once.
Blood spattered their armor, dyed their furs red.
But they did not slow.
Even when wounded—clawed across the chest, thighs torn—they howled in rage and pressed forward, driven by instinct and fury.
The battlefield was chaos incarnate.
Steel clashed with bone. Roars mixed with shrieks. Blood soaked the earth.
But it was here, in this storm of death and glory, that the Night Tribe thrived.
They had come to test their strength.
And the gold-eating ratmen would be the ones to measure it—with their blood.