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The mountain shadows were deep, and the path was treacherous.
The foothills were littered with rock fragments, occasionally interrupted by sparse forests, but mostly barren and desolate.
The resources in these mountains were scarce, and aside from raiding, the mountain clans could only hunt goats and shadow lynxes.
But it was unclear whether the shadow lynx was prey or predator.
Due to the scarcity of resources in the Mingyue Mountains, the people of the mountain clans often fought over the smallest scraps of food and territory.
It was the Daru people who guided Cole. Though the Seven Kingdoms called them savages, their customs and beliefs were merely primitive, and their intelligence was no less than anyone else's. They weren't fools.
The Daru knew Cole and his group were tough, much like the shadow lynx. If they couldn't overpower them, they'd be destroyed. So, the Daru chose to agree to Cole's proposal.
They had been walking for some time when suddenly someone from behind slipped into the forest, moving with great agility.
Cole raised his bow, pulled the string, and shot an arrow. A scream echoed from the bushes.
He drew his sword, spun around, and drove it into the Daru's chest. "People can't be too greedy," he muttered.
Seeing Cole unsheath his sword, the guards sprang into action.
"No one's hurt, right?" Cole asked, wiping the blade clean with a strip of cloth cut from the mountain man's clothes.
"No," came the reply.
They left one alive.
He was a scrawny boy from the mountain clan, probably twelve or thirteen years old, and he was brought before Cole, his face filled with terror.
"You'll lead the way for me, and I'll spare your life," Cole threatened.
The boy had been the one guiding them so far.
The child nodded frantically.
"Don't even think about running," Cole warned, pointing to his bow.
The cold winds were howling down from the mountains, and the snow on the peaks had started to move down in layers. The breath of a long winter was settling in, and Cole knew the free folk of the Mingyue Mountains could feel it approaching.
"I remember that your Black Ear tribe isn't here," Cole said, turning to the boy.
"It's the Painted Dog tribe and the Burning Man tribe. They came from the Flatlands." The boy hesitated, almost saying "Flatlanders," but he feared offending the leader. "They took a lot of armor and weapons from the mountains, then drove our tribes here."
They had been walking for two days through the mountains, and finally, a stretch of green forest appeared before them.
Not long after entering the forest, they were surrounded by dozens of free folk.
Then, a familiar face emerged before Cole.
"It's been a long time, Time."
It was the boy who had burned his own eyes.
Time stared at him for a long while, before speaking in surprise. "You are the flame. No... the king has returned to the Kingdom of God. Who are you?"
"Cole. I am Cole. The one who took your sacred objects," Cole replied.
Time furrowed his brow.
"I've come to honor my promise, Time. Please take me to see the fire priest."
Time walked forward, scimitar in hand, tilting his head to study Cole, before finally shaking his head. "If you are truly my king, prove yourself with flames."
He took a torch from his side and handed it to Cole.
Without hesitation, Cole thrust his hand into the flames. Just then, a shout came from one of the guards. "Your Majesty the Marquis!"
Cole held the torch by the burning end, turned it upside down, and gripped it tightly, extinguishing the flame in his hand.
"Is this enough?" Cole asked calmly.
He wiped his blackened hands on his clothes and then spread his uninjured palms.
The guards' eyes were wide with disbelief.
But Time was already convinced. He knelt on one knee. "Lord of Fire."
Seeing the red hands pressed to the ground, the surrounding flame people also knelt.
Cole kept his promise and released the black-eared boy. Then, under Time's guidance, they headed toward the settlement of the Painted Dog Tribe.
After their arrival, the Fire Priest called for a clan meeting, and all the leaders of the Flame People gathered in the Painted Dog Tribe's trial cave.
Cole sat beneath the great keel, with Time standing behind him.
Some people looked at him in surprise, while others stared coldly or remained expressionless.
"Fire Priest, you summoned us here in the name of the Lord of Fire. What does this mean?" one of the leaders called out to the half-bowed old woman.
Before the Fire Priest could respond, Time spoke, "The King of Fire is sitting here."
The leader stood, laughing, and pointed at Time. "Do you mean to say this flatlander is the King of Fire? Or are you suggesting that Time wants to be the King of Fire?"
"My king, allow me to cut off his head for you." Time raised his scimitar.
"The Flatlanders are cunning lynxes, unworthy of leading the noble free folk," someone else said.
Cole had expected that they wouldn't immediately recognize him as the Lord of Fire. Fortunately, Time still believed in him. Time was the Fire People's greatest warrior, and with him, Cole's task became much easier.
"Time, is everyone here?" Cole asked.
"My king, two people have not yet arrived."
Cole gave a small nod.
"I believe my face isn't too unfamiliar to you," he said, standing up.
"Even if you forget me, it doesn't matter. You will always remember the armor you wear."
"Flatlanders," one leader shouted, "these armors were earned by the brave Fire People through battle."
"I know your bravery is renowned," Cole said, "but are you satisfied with just armor and weapons?" He paused. "Do you remember the prophecy of the Fire King?"
Of course, they had all grown up hearing stories about the Fire King. The Fire King was their god, much like the King of Fishbeams was revered by the Woodmen.
"I'm not sure I am your Fire King, nor do I wish to be," Cole said. "But since you've fought for me, I will honor the promise I made under the flames."
"Can you feel winter approaching?"
"What are you trying to say?" One leader had lost his patience.
"I don't know how many of you have seen winter, or how many winters you've lived through. In the Kingdom of the Flatlands, we all know that the long winter is coming."
Some of the older members seemed to recall something that frightened them.
"I can offer you a forest rich enough to survive the winter," Cole continued. "A forest even larger than the Moon Mountains." He couldn't quite compare it to the Royal Forest, but exaggerating never harmed anyone.
"We already have the best place in the Mingyue Mountains. Why should we follow you?" someone demanded.
"The supplies there are ten or even a hundred times more plentiful than here," Cole replied. "You could hunt red deer, wild boars, and rabbits. And no one will fight you for it."
"How can we trust you?" another voice called out.
Cole smiled. "Why don't you see for yourselves?"