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With a deafening "boom," the spot where Dos had been sitting exploded into fragments. A massive cyan halberd thrust up from beneath the ground, its blade swirling toward Dos with lethal intent. The weapon's edge was sheathed in an amber-like glow, condensing into twelve streaks of light that shot forth—almost tangible—a manifestation of combat energy refined to its utmost limit, a technique only the most elite Orc Sword Emperors could wield. Even a mere graze from this radiant combat energy could shred legendary-grade armor, let alone the halberd's blade itself.

"Beria's assassin?" In that split second, Dos found himself teetering on the brink of death.

Though Beria had dismissed him as "trash," how could any child of Samantha truly be incompetent? While not a practitioner of the Emperor Martial Overlord Art, Dos's combat prowess was still formidable—merely overshadowed by his father's legacy. Now, at the precipice of life and death, he erupted with astonishing reflexes. Realizing he couldn't evade the halberd's onslaught by retreating, he channeled his combat energy into his feet, detonating it beneath him to propel himself upward. Twisting midair with a serpentine twist, he miraculously slipped between the twelve lightning-fast blades of combat energy. Then, with a sharp pivot, he lunged toward General Monroe Cass. Though not his loyalist, Dos instantly deduced that the neutral officers there wouldn't stand idly by while Beria's assassin struck him down.

Alas, no sooner had this thought crossed his mind than a violet blade light tore through the tent's roof, severing his movement.

*Thud. Thud.* Dos's head and body hit the ground separately in the center of the tent, his horrified expression frozen in lifelike detail. The life of Samantha's eldest son had been extinguished.

Simultaneously, one of the three Orc Sword Emperors behind Beria stepped forward, his aura flaring with crushing pressure to confront Dos's loyalists, who had just begun reacting to the upheaval. Meanwhile, the auras of the other two "Orc Sword Emperors" rapidly dimmed, dwindling to the level of ordinary Sword Masters. In their place, the assassin wielding the cyan halberd—who had burst from underground—and the killer with the violet greatsword—who had descended through the tent—both removed their masks, revealing leonine features. Their combat energy surged, instantly matching the standing Orc Sword Emperor's. Side by side, the three powerhouses froze all would-be rebels in place.

Now, everyone understood: Beria had long planted these assassins, disguising two ordinary subordinates as Orc Sword Emperors with secret arts while deploying the real one to eliminate his brother.

"Tch. Had you not hidden like a rat, I wouldn’t have had to wait this long to kill you. Agreeing to this meeting was just bait to lure you out," Beria sneered, stomping on Dos's shattered skull as he scanned the room. "Now, who still dares deny that I am the head of the Splitfang Clan?"

Heroic Werewolf Scroll, Chapter 106: Lion, Tiger, Eagle, Bear, Yak, Leopard, Wolf

In the annals of the Beastfolk Hundred Clans' civil wars, none had ever been as audacious as Chen Xuanfeng—daring to pit fewer than 80,000 troops of ordinary Wolf Clan and yak lineage, bolstered by a contingent of boar-kin (modern half-orcs), against the combined elite forces of the Lion, Tiger, Leopard, Eagle, and Bear Tribes, numbering over 300,000.

It was as ludicrous as a pack of lone wolves hunting a pride of lions.

Yet the reality was this: the armies in Chen Xuanfeng's path tightened their formations, bracing for the storm, while his forces advanced triumphantly, unshackled by fear.

The linchpin was Chen Xuanfeng's band of Saints—like lone wolves sprouting venomous fangs and claws. Even the mightiest lions would retreat rather than risk fatal wounds. Of course, such strength alone couldn’t annihilate the lion pride, but without mutual willingness for mutual destruction, the lions preferred compromise over catastrophic losses.

Thus, before dawn, envoys from the Eagle Tribe and Bear Tribe arrived.

This deliberate leniency was his message—now answered. Chen Xuanfeng had struck both factions but slaughtered over half of the Splitfang Clan's commanders while sparing surrendering Eagle and Bear auxiliaries—even letting swift retreaters escape unscathed.

"Since the Eagle and Bear Tribes seek peace, I offer this pledge: During my reign, your territories, council seats, and traditional jurisdictions shall remain as under Samantha's rule. Future conquests will be divided by merit. This oath shall be enshrined in the Temple of the War God's records, unaltered."

The envoys departed with his sealed pledge, leaving Chen Xuanfeng to sigh. Ideally, he’d emulate Samantha’s subjugation of the clans, but his mixed heritage barred true fealty from the ancient noble houses. As Beastfolk King, he needed the Five Warrior Clans’ support, forcing mutual concessions. Even the Lion Clan, now under his wife Catherine's rule, followed this balance—lest rank-and-file unrest shift politics.

Such were the rules of the political game. Though Beastfolk played it crudely compared to humans, raw strength alone couldn’t redraw the board. For now, Chen Xuanfeng wielded both sword and olive branch, suppressing factions until accumulated authority eroded resistance.

Yet sometimes, violence *could* redraw the board...

As with the assassinations and purges unfolding within the Splitfang Clan, even as Chen Xuanfeng sealed his pact with the eagles and bears.