The Cursed

The banquet was held as scheduled that evening. The young and strong soldiers had eaten and drunk their fill and began to sit together, drinking and boasting.

At this point, some of the less important people, namely the thin tribespeople and the elderly, began to line up, holding bowls, to receive their meat soup.

The best meat had already been divided among the warriors, and the fact that they could get some hot soup with the aroma of meat and some small pieces of meat was already a great comfort on the cold Freljord.

Aisha was also holding a bowl filled with meat soup... Although she was the honored guest who brought the food, she always felt inexplicably out of place.

The Horde atmosphere of Winter's Claw is quite different from that of Avaros.

Although Ashe's mother, the former War Mother Glenna, was not as "naive" as Ashe and also believed in the supremacy of strength in the Freljord tradition, as the strongest warrior in the region, she did not mind giving some protection to the weak.

In the event of any major migration or food distribution, Glenna never forgets the hearth workers and tribespeople following behind her.

But the Claws of Winter are completely different. There is a very clear hierarchy here, and the only standard for judgment is strength.

Instead of eating the fattest chunks of meat like the other warriors, Ashe chose to drink meat soup with the weaker ones.

The aroma of the meat was equally enticing, but Ashe couldn't feel happy; the cheers and laughter of the surrounding warriors seemed to have nothing to do with her.

She wasn't sure if she could fit in here; she had already lost her tribe and hadn't yet gained the approval of the Winter's Claw Warmother, Korgia…

Just then, a commotion arose next to the large pot of broth, growing louder and louder until it seemed to have turned into an argument.

Aisha snapped out of her daze and walked over curiously.

Two young men in tattered leather jackets stood there with their heads down, while the soldier in charge of distributing the broth was pointing at them and scolding them with his bone spoon.

"Do you think I'm blind? You damned furnace makers! Who gave you the guts to come here?"

Although the two young men were also very strong, they cowered and dared not speak. After a long while, they finally stammered out their words.

"We saw everyone else receiving them..."

"Heh, really? What business is this of yours, you furnace operators! Get out of here!"

The two young stove-makers, holding their bowls, lowered their heads dejectedly under the watchful eyes of the crowd, preparing to slink away in disgrace.

"Wait a moment!"

At this moment, Ashe walked over, and even from just a few words, she could roughly understand what had happened.

Out of kindness, she stepped forward.

"Are those two the hearth keeper here? Aren't they considered members of the tribe? Why can't they share food?"

"Ah... of course they distributed food, but it didn't include the meat from the banquet."

The warrior's attitude towards Ashe, the "guest" who brought food, was much better, but he still insisted on his own opinion.

Aisha couldn't understand why, since they were all part of the tribe, and the feast was only a bowl of meat soup, they couldn't share it with them?

"So, what if I wanted to share some of my food with them?"

Upon hearing this, the soldier shook his head and said...

"Thank you for bringing food, Avarosa, but the distribution of food is up to the War Mother... If the War Mother says no, then no."

Ashe was speechless. She opened her mouth, but as an outsider who had just arrived, she could not comment on the rules of the Winter's Claw Warmother.

She pondered for a moment, looked at the wooden bowl in her hand, walked up to the two dejected young stove workers, and handed it to them.

"I only took a sip... You guys shouldn't mind, right?"

"No...no, but..."

The two fire-starters exchanged a glance but did not take it; it was Aisha who insisted on putting it in their hands.

"It's not much, but at least it can warm us up."

"Thank you... thank you so much, may God bless you..."

Although it was just a bowl of not-so-rich meat soup, it was enough to make the two young fire-starters, who had suffered cold treatment in the tribe, feel grateful to the point of tears.

Aisha smiled and waved her hand. This was the only thing she could do... At least she had the right to distribute the food she received.

However, at that moment, a discordant sound came from behind.

"Stop trying to win people over here, Avarosa people."

Ashe was taken aback by what she heard and turned around to see that it was Draklon, the Frost Priest of the Winter's Claw tribe, leading his people over.

His face wore an extremely unsettling smile; just by looking at him, you could tell he was up to no good.

"Your name is Ashe, right? An Avarosa... Glenna's daughter, Marukolo often mentions you."

Marukolo was the Frost Priest before Avarossa, and also the mastermind behind Avarossa's eventual destruction. He was killed by Ashe herself... Hearing this name at this time is not a good omen.

Ashe's heart tightened, and she took a step back, gripping the bow with one hand and secretly reaching into her robes with the other to grasp the Serpent's Fang.

"You know him? Did you make him betray our tribe?"

"Hehe, we sometimes understand each other perfectly."

Draklon gave a cold laugh, no longer answering Ashe. Instead, he turned around, looked at the crowd whose attention had been drawn by the arrival of the priest, opened his arms, and spoke loudly.

"Friends! Why do you feed this fraudster, outsider, and heretic when you yourselves can't even feed yourselves?"

His voice was melodious and captivating.

"Don't be fooled by her appearance! We have witnessed darkness, and we have also resisted it."

Draklon was highly respected, and the Frost Priests, represented by him, had for many years been dedicated to providing free treatment to the sick and injured members of their tribe, in exchange for only verbal "piety."

This may be a way to win people's hearts, but no one can refuse a priest who will help them out without expecting anything in return at a crucial moment.

Therefore, as soon as Drakorn said this, the people in the tribe immediately began to whisper among themselves. It seemed that the little bit of goodwill that Ashe had worked so hard to win over had been destroyed by his few words.

"She's cursed..."

Finally, Draklon delivered his final "judgment" and, in front of everyone, pulled the Frost Dagger from his pocket.

This was a special instrument used to punish the guilty, and everyone immediately understood... The Frost Priest was going to kill Ashe.

But due to Drakon's prestige, everyone chose to remain silent... Even those who cherished their past relationship with Avarosa, who might have sick family members at home, all turned their faces away without prior arrangement.

Aisha suddenly felt a sense of loneliness, as if she had fallen into a helpless situation once again.

She could only grip the Avarosa longbow tightly, the chill brought by the Zhenbing becoming her only warmth at that moment.

Draklon turned around and walked slowly toward Ashe.

"Accept your fate, Avarosa..."

"Stay away from her! It's time for the ritual!"

Just then, a sharp shout rang out, and everyone looked over. Even Delacron stopped what he was doing and turned his head away.

Then they saw the furnaceman who had just come with Ashe, shirtless, striding over while holding a giant hammer upside down.

The giant hammer dragged a deep track in the snow, and strangely left a long icicle.

Delacroix's face immediately turned cold.

"This is none of your business, Luxiang people."

Heron did not answer, but instead dragged the giant hammer straight to the two of them and slammed it heavily into the ground.

Invisible ripples spread outwards, and a layer of ice quickly covered the surface of Drakon's shoes, causing him to involuntarily take a step back.