The morning after the battle, the camp reeked of a mixture of blood and burnt vegetation. Several elder orcs were processing the hyena orc corpses, their movements practiced and detached, as if this were merely part of their daily routine.
A Lie had left his tent early; his wounds seemed to have little effect on his mobility. When Gu Liang was led out of his tent by the guards, he noticed the spoils of last night's battle piled in the central clearing—several hyena-beast corpses discarded carelessly to one side, while the leopard warriors shared the choicest cuts of the prey.
When Chief Mo Zong saw Gu Liang, his gaze lingered briefly on the brand beneath the warrior's collarbone before he gestured to the guards. Today, Gu Liang was assigned to assist the females in processing hides—a task somewhat less grueling than cleaning entrails.
Throughout his work, Gu Liang kept his eyes lowered, yet every sense was sharply attuned to gathering information. He noticed a subtle shift in the leopard warriors' attitude toward A Lie—while they still maintained their distance, their reverence now held a hint of genuine recognition. Several young warriors even attempted to speak with A Lie, though he responded only with brief nods.
During the midday break, Gu Liang was permitted to rest by the fire. He carefully chose a spot where he could observe the entire camp, slowly chewing the dried meat he'd been given.
Just then, he witnessed an intriguing scene: Mo Zong approached Alei, who sat alone nearby, holding a prime cut of leg meat. The chieftain stopped before Alei, but instead of immediately offering the meat, he first tapped it with his finger, then gestured toward the camp's outer perimeter—apparently the direction from which the jackal-beasts had attacked the previous night.
A Lie lifted his head, his golden pupils narrowing slightly. He shook his head, first pointing at himself, then tracing an outward arc before finally pointing north. Mo Zong's brow immediately furrowed. He stepped forward, speaking urgently with repeated taps at the meat, then gesturing toward the leopard tribe's totem banner.
Gu Liang held his breath, piecing together the gestures and expressions to venture a guess at the silent exchange: Mo Zong seemed to be using food and status to persuade A Lie to stay, while A Lie was firmly insisting on leaving for the north.
A Lie abruptly stood up, his frame towering half a head above Mo Zong with an imposing presence. He made no further gestures, merely shaking his head firmly before turning to leave. Mo Zong remained rooted to the spot, his face darkening.
At that moment, Gu Liang's heart pounded violently. A dark, resolute thought coiled around his mind like poisonous vines—he must feign, must endure, must learn everything about survival in this world from this powerful captor, and find the weakness that could bring about his downfall.
As evening fell, when A Lie returned to the tent, Gu Liang was arranging animal hides. Unlike before, he did not avert his gaze this time. Instead, he lifted his head and met A Lie's stare.
A Lie visibly faltered, a flicker of surprise darting through his golden pupils.
Gu Liang slowly rose, walked to the tent's corner, and retrieved clean water and a fresh hide—noticing a deep wound on Alei's arm still oozing blood. Hesitantly, he extended a finger, pointing first at the wound, then at the water and hide.
A Lie's gaze sharpened, as if weighing the meaning behind this gesture. After a long moment, he slowly sat down and extended his wounded arm.
Gu Liang carefully cleaned the wound, moving as gently as possible. He could feel A Lie's gaze fixed on him, filled with scrutiny and confusion. When the cleaning was done, Gu Liang hesitated, then pointed at A Lie's wound, gestured toward the brand beneath his own collarbone, and finally shook his head softly.
The gesture's meaning was clear: I'm treating your wound—can you stop hurting me?
A Lie suddenly seized his wrist with such force it made Gu Liang wince. Golden pupils locked onto him, as if trying to pierce his true thoughts. Finally, A Lie emitted an ambiguous hum and released his grip.
That night, A Lie didn't treat him with his usual brutality. When he pulled Gu Liang closer, his movements even carried a hint of hesitation. Gu Liang offered no resistance, yet he didn't respond either, merely passively accepting it all like a soulless puppet.
Late into the night, after A Lie's breathing had settled into a steady, deep rhythm, Gu Liang quietly opened his eyes. Moonlight seeped through the cracks in the door curtain, illuminating A Lie's sleeping profile. Without his usual sharpness and oppressive aura, he looked almost... ordinary.
Gu Liang's fingers silently traced the Swiss Army knife hidden beneath the animal hide. The cold touch of the blade jolted him awake.
Just one thrust, he thought, just aim for the neck and drive it in—
Just then, Alei stirred suddenly, uttering a muffled murmur. Gu Liang immediately held his breath, freezing completely.
"The throne..." Alei murmured in Orcish from within his dream, "Must return..."
Gu Liang gently withdrew his hand, tucking the military dagger back into its sheath.
The time wasn't right yet. He needed more information, needed to wait for a better opportunity. This silent battle had only just begun.