I was a lord farming, how did I become an emperor?

Chapter 68 Charge! Charge! Charge!

Outside the Blade's Edge Mountains, in a forest in a hilly area.

"Thank you for your generosity, Your Excellency Baron of the Shattered Rock Empire."

The elderly prophet bowed deeply, his aged voice tinged with caution.

Although he was covered in rough animal skin and still had a lot of dirt on him, he already possessed a level of etiquette rarely seen in savages.

Knowledgeable savages are different.

Rhodes pondered to himself, his gaze sweeping over the prophet.

It seems my generosity did not move you.

Rhodes surveyed the crowd following the prophet; behind him were only four savages wielding spears.

"I thought you would come to me with all your people."

Rod was a little annoyed that he hadn't seen the relocated White Frost tribe.

They were unwilling to be polite to this savage prophet.

"I'm very sorry to have disappointed you."

A hint of apology appeared on the prophet's wrinkled face, and his fingers nervously twisted together.

His eyes flickered; he dared not meet Rhodes' gaze directly, yet was unwilling to bow his head completely. After a moment's hesitation, he continued:
“I do not want my people to be slaves forever.”

"Do you have any other skills?"

He took a step forward, closing in on the prophet, and demanded, "Farming? Blacksmithing? Raising livestock?"

“I admit that some of you are skilled hunters, but I won’t let you roam freely in my territory right now.”

"Besides, haven't the people in your White Frost tribe who are capable of hunting already become my slaves?"

Rhodes was no benevolent lord; these savages could only exchange food for labor, not freedom.

Unless the entire White Frost tribe consists of artisans, there is no room for negotiation.

The White Frost Prophet was somewhat embarrassed by Rhodes's quick refusal and explained, "We still know a bit about farming..."

The voice became smaller and smaller, and finally became almost a soliloquy.

“That’s not farming, that’s wasting food.”

Rhodes inquired in detail about Tassa's lifestyle; their farming was even more primitive than that of Frostleaf Town.

Without clearing land, turning the soil, or sifting seeds, they simply chose an empty plot of land, scattered the grain, and left it to fate.

Iron smelting was out of the question; the White Frost tribe used stone tools.

According to Tasa, these savages do know how to weave baskets and make pottery.

But during the bargaining process, how could Rod possibly bring up the other party's strengths?

The prophet gave an awkward laugh.

He knew all too well that the knowledge he was so proud of in front of his people was utterly worthless in front of these imperial people outside.

The only thing I can demonstrate is my divination skills.

They have consistently led the White Frost Tribe to survive by choosing the path of struggle.

Last night, the prophet performed a divination, and the result was that joining Frostleaf Town would be a good outcome, but becoming a slave would not.

For the White Frost tribe, there are better options.

As for what it was, the divination did not provide an answer.

The White Frost Prophet didn't sleep all night and finally came up with an idea.

"Your Excellency, the Imperial Baron, if I were to exchange some slaves with you, would you be willing to grant the White Frost Tribe the status of subjects?"

Rhodes was somewhat surprised, "Your White Frost tribe still has slaves?"

Tassa did not mention this.

How could they possibly capture slaves?

The prophet shook his head slightly. "We don't have slaves, but I can help you capture some."

As he spoke, a wicked smile appeared on the prophet's wrinkled face, and his eyes narrowed into slits.
“Not far from our tribe are the Graystone and Giantwood tribes, who can be your slaves.”

Rhodes understood.

This prophet wants to sell other tribes to himself.

Others can be slaves, but you can't, right?
Rhodes' lips curled into a playful smile. "Sure, go and capture them. One slave for one commoner status."

"We can't catch him..."

The prophet hesitated again: "Your soldiers will need to do the work." "So you're just going to talk and tell me which two tribes there are?"

Rhodes shook his head slightly. "I will not allow the soldiers to enter Blade's Edge Mountains."

The Blade's Edge Mountains are dense, primeval forests with no fixed mountain paths, steep cliffs and bottomless abysses everywhere, not to mention venomous snakes and ferocious beasts.

Entering such a dangerous and unfamiliar place without proper preparation can easily lead to getting lost.

Even with the White Frost Tribe as a guide, Rhode would not allow his soldiers to venture in and risk their lives.

No need.

"Your soldiers do not need to go deep."

The prophet lowered his voice, a sly glint in his eyes.

“As long as you set a bait, I will lure them all out.”

Rhodes' lips curled up slightly as he re-examined the savage prophet before him.

This guy is indeed different from ordinary savages. He uses his brain to solve problems instead of his strength, and he is also quite cunning.

How could someone like this appear among a group of savages?

Bloodline Awakening?
Or is it the enlightenment passed down from the prophets?

Rhodes nodded slightly, suppressing his curiosity, and asked, "The idea is good, but will they listen to you?"

The prophet's face was filled with confidence.

"Hunger will make them believe it."

……

……

The sky was gloomy and pressed down on the earth, with layers of dark clouds hanging like a black curtain above the Blade's Edge Mountains.

A gentle breeze rustled through the wild grass, creating a soft whisper, as if telling secrets hidden in the wilderness.

Not far away, three carriages moved slowly forward, the sound of their wheels rolling over the mud sounding particularly jarring in the oppressive atmosphere.

The carriage was bulging with goods, covered with a tarpaulin to keep out the rain, and looked very tempting.

In the distance, in the woods, a large group of savages lay prone in the grass, staring intently at the caravan ahead.

"White Frost Prophet, are you sure all these wagons are loaded with rye?"

The Graystone chieftain swallowed hard, and the Giantwood chieftain beside him wiped the saliva from the corner of his mouth.

Sweet and delicious rye!

It's right in front of us!
“It was covered with an oilcloth, so I’m not sure, but you’ve seen the results of my divination.”

The prophet calmly said, "As long as we seize this team, we will all have rye to eat."

"Let's see if you dare."

"Why don't you dare?"

The Graystone leader said with a sneer, "Do you think I'm like your White Frost leader, who runs away in fear and gets caught when he encounters ten people?"
We brought... several tens this time!

The Graystone leader excitedly held out his ten fingers, only to find that he couldn't count them at all.

"In short, there are far more people than those caravans!"

I can't even count to eighty-five.

The White Frost Prophet sneered inwardly, but his face remained impassive.

"Don't talk big yet, let's take over this caravan first."

The White Frost Prophet's calm tone once again stirred the Graystone Leader's emotions.

"The White Frost Tribe is unworthy of having a prophet. Come join our tribe after you've robbed this caravan!"

With that, the Graystone chieftain jumped up, completely ignoring the Giantwood chieftain beside him, and brandished his spear.

"Greystone warriors, charge!"

"Woo-la!"

The Greystone savages screamed and sprang up, following their leader in a charge!

"idiot!"

The White Frost Prophet cursed under his breath and quickly kicked the Giant Tree Chieftain beside him, reminding him, "If you don't go soon, they'll rob everything!"

The giant tree chieftain reacted instantly, scrambling to his feet and shouting, "Giant Tree Tribe, charge! Charge! Charge!"

(End of this chapter)