Iron Harvest: When Farming Becomes Conquest

The story concluded. They received fresh frozen meat sent by the Frost Tribe.

Herman faced the raw meat, unsure what to do, and ordered his men to collect firewood.

Sometimes, such situations are unavoidable.

He increasingly missed the River Valley, the warm and prosperous land, the majestic and radiant Your Highness.

"When will we return?"

"If all goes well, tomorrow." Gwen answered lazily.

"Not now?"

"You are the Silver Moon Knight, don't you know the moon is brightest at night?" The old witch retorted sharply.

That was also the time when those abominations were at their strongest. She frowned in thought, suddenly feeling uneasy.

The story she just heard whispered quietly in her ear: The ancient alien gods also created those abominations in the cold night...

Herman simply shut his mouth.

He never felt happy talking to these old witches.

His men brought back dry firewood, Herman drew the Silver Moon Sword with a clang, muttering under his breath, and suddenly struck down.

Crack!

The firewood was split in half instantly, sparks flew, igniting silver flames that quietly turned red as they stabilized and flickered.

Herman joyfully watched the silver-white sword in his hand.

It was sharp, light, and resilient.

Silver Moon Magic worked even during the day; all this was thanks to the great Your Highness. Otherwise, with their talent, they couldn't possibly master this Secret Technique in such a short time.

After all, even senior witches find it hard to quickly master a spell.

The knight stacked the firewood into a bonfire, took out a portable iron pot, put ice cubes and fresh meat, and placed it over the flames with a stick.

"Do you think those abominations hate fire?" Silver Moon Laisa stared at the bonfire.

"Lady Laisa, surely you don't take that ghost story seriously?" A Silver Moon Knight said.

"I think those giants aren't too impressive, and anything that can oppose them can't be too strong either." The knights gathered around another bonfire for warmth, chuckling softly.

"Don't think like that, you should show more reverence towards the Frost people, this place isn't simple at all." Monica stirred the iron pot with a wooden spoon, melting the ice and causing scum to emerge.

Roman's knights inherited his fearless spirit, trained as specialized war weapons.

But witches are different; they hold more reverence towards those divine legends.

The Northern Land possesses unfathomable powers.

Even the Seat Witches are like ants before the past of this land.

It is said that countless remnants and giant bones are buried deep in the snowfield, where even the Wind Snow God fell.

Their innate keen intuition makes them easily sense the unknown power flowing within Ular.

Ular is the Frost Leader and Priest, able to listen to the voice of the earth, which is the whispers of grandfather's spirit; Frost people act according to the divine hints.

Witches highly believe in those hints because they also come from mysterious realms, with latent spirituality suggesting to them—

Don't dismiss this lightly!

"Deputy Captain, someone's coming." The Silver Moon Knight on guard reported.

They circled around and knew the approximate size of this Frost Tribe, but the new Frost people clearly didn't belong to this tribe.

Moreover, the newcomers weren't alone but in a group, all dressed as Primitive Warriors, aggressive.

"Everyone stay alert!" Herman ordered.

The resting Silver Moon Knights began discreetly checking their armor and weapons.

The deputy captain thought the Frost people lacked warfare skills.

This camp is open on all sides, vulnerable to attack, without pits, no sharpened stakes.

A Frost Tribe with less than a thousand people has tents scattered over several miles, more free and scattered than witches.

If a Conquest Knight launched an assault, they'd all perish here.

Herman silently sent guards out and stood on a high point with a full view of the place, knowing who enters and exits, none escaping his watch, but the Frost people were unresponsive.

Even those rubbish nobles' Conquest Knights could kill them, Herman thought.

"Another group is coming!" Shortly after, the guards reported again.

The force of the Frost Tribe is gathering; they were previously scattered over the vast snowfield, now beginning to converge here.

"Gwen, what do you think?"

Monica was bored, wanting to pick fleas from her sister's hair. But not to mention there were none, even if there were fleas, they would have frozen to death in this icy land.

"Perhaps Ular is mostly worried he can't control us, so he found helpers, or maybe for other reasons." Gwen huddled by the bonfire, warm and cozy, feeling drowsy.

She yawned, recalling what the Prophet said, feeling increasingly heavy-hearted.

She closed her eyes: "Relax a bit, we're here to help, they have no reason to attack us... at most, they're cautious."

...

"Do we truly trust them?" asked the Frost Priest from other tribes.

"No other choice!" Ular decisively said, "Now the enemy is approaching, with the way those herds act, once they appear, they are bound to group together."

"Perhaps they are close at hand!" said another priest.

"But we cannot find any tracks of the foul beasts; unless we find them, the attackers are surely not them!"

"Grandfather has yet to give us a sign, the snowy plains are calm and peaceful, such a situation is unprecedented!" an old priest said gravely.

The most terrifying thing has happened!

The grandfather whom the Frost generations trusted can no longer provide warnings and protection to His children!

Who else can stop those hideous and cold spawns on this land in the future?

Rely on the Human Clan's strength?

The Human Spellcasters have been persecuted up to this day! The war of the gods and Witch even reached the isolated Frost Clan.

If not for this, Valia would never leave the snowy plains.

The gods want to obliterate them!

The old priest's heart, cold and hard as ice, trembled.

Two years ago, the spirit of Grandfather, for the last time, brought revelations to all priests, the content of which stated that the Guardian God of Wandong had died!

"The power of the cold night is eroding this land ah!" Ular felt anguished, "After the human Spellcasters sent Valia back, we found the fragmented deer bones in the forest twenty kilometers away!"

Ular took out the bone; it was gnawed to pieces, covered with chaotic bite marks.

"Those spawn come and go as they please! The power of the different gods is gradually reviving, the Ice Plain is no longer their prison!"

"The different god interfered with the spirit of Grandfather, spawns once never searched for slaughter targets, they are secretly gathering strength, and coming for Valia!" a priest said angrily.

"The Frost Clan has fallen! Not dead! Gather all Frost Warriors! Fight them to death!"

"Protect the daughter of Grandfather!"

...

Night fell.

Silver Moon Laisa and Herman accompanied by Ular went to Valia's place of slumber.

It was a tundra, solid and dark, cold and hard as iron, infused with Frost Power.

Valia was buried in the permafrost.

It's said this method aids her recovery.

Grandfather's power merged into the depths of the land, with the soul wandering the snowy plains, bringing enlightenment to the Frost Tribe.

This power weakens in summer and strengthens in winter.

Yet in the Endless Ice Field, Grandfather's power never diminishes even slightly. For the Endless Ice Field truly belongs to Frost people, while the roaming soul deep in the snowy plains is merely the radiation of Grandfather's power.

Valia was unearthed and lay sleeping in the deep blue ice, with wounds that once bled and brought her to the brink of death all healed, only the fierce scar on her face did not heal.

No one could awaken her from her dreams.

Maybe she was already dead? The soul merged into the bloodline of Grandfather...

This thought terrified and horrified the priests, leaving them no choice but to clench their teeth and remain silent, no one could pry it open.

The tribe had reached its bitter end, and if this tiny hope shattered, they would fall into eternal damnation.

Upon seeing the witch encased in ice, the witches also showed varied expressions.

"My sister." Gwen sighed.

"Frost Witch." Monica's face showed no relief, only heaviness. Her mind flashed to the scene of wielding the Divine Sword, leading everyone to break through the siege.

"The weapon left here by that Spellcaster transformed into a beam of light and shot into the sky, disappearing two years ago." Ular said.

Gwen nodded, that was the family heritage of Black Iron Dukes, now back in the hands of the Dukes.

"Laisa, begin." She said to Silver Moon Laisa. The latter was somewhat lost, but with the reminder, she immediately took out the gemstone.

The brilliance of the Silver Moon Gemstone can illuminate the Netherworld, guiding lost souls in the dark.

Slash!

A bright moon rose in the permafrost!

The blinding light illuminated the entire space, the range of a hundred miles clearly visible!

Laisa held the Silver Moon, her eyes closed, silver hair danced, and her face sacred, like the Moon Goddess descending upon the earth.

She softly spoke the call, "Valia... Valia... come back... hurry back... we need you... we need you..."

Whoosh!

The chill spread like the tide.

Cold wind blew.

The spawns silently appeared.