The night passed, and under Luo Qing’s relentless command, Babale spent the entire evening performing square dances in his room.
By the time she stumbled out the next morning, her legs were trembling, and she had to cling to the walls just to stay upright.
Her weakened state did not go unnoticed by the members of the Tanit tribe. They exchanged shocked glances, their imaginations running wild.
Was Luo Qing truly that powerful?
After all, when their tribal leader sought… companionship in the past, it was usually the man who hobbled out the next day.
But now, she was the one clinging to the walls?!
Exhausted beyond measure, Babale had no choice but to lie down in her room for the entire day, conserving her strength for her plans to exact revenge against Luo Qing that night.
As the tribal matriarch, she rarely participated in labor anyway, so no one questioned her absence.
The day slipped by, and as night fell, it was time for the tribe’s nightly routine—gathering in the square to perform two rounds of their absurd, hideous dance, followed by sitting in neat rows to write their so-called reflections on “new ideals.” Only after completing the assignments could they rest.
Babale’s plan with Azarig and the other allied tribes was timed to coincide with the nightly gathering.
Weapons had been hidden earlier, ready to be retrieved during the chaos of battle. Babale and Azarig had even downplayed Luo Qing’s strength to the other tribes, hoping to weaken their forces in the process.
—
As the stars dotted the desert sky, Babale finally emerged from her room.
Though Luo Qing had generously spared her from the morning exercises, she still had to participate in the evening’s writing session.
Once everyone had assembled in the square, Babale called her closest confidants over for a quick, whispered meeting.
“When will they arrive?”
“Soon, Lady Babale. Any moment now…” Azarig glanced at her with concern. “Lady Babale, you seem… still unsteady. Perhaps I should take charge of tonight’s operation—”
The thought of Luo Qing leaving Babale in such a weakened state made Azarig’s heart ache. After all, he hadn’t yet had the honor of being chosen for her… attentions.
“No need,” Babale snapped. “I’ll personally make sure Luo Qing understands—”
Her gaze locked onto Luo Qing, who stood not far away, laughing and chatting with his subordinates. Her eyes burned with hatred.
She could have tolerated a fight to the death, but to force her to dance all night long? And threaten her with public flogging if she refused?
—
“Everyone’s here. Form five orderly rows!” Natalia barked out the command, prompting Sergei and another subordinate to haul out the large gramophone.
Rosalyne stood nearby, maintaining a watchful guard to prevent any disruptions.
Just then, shadows began to appear along the cliffs surrounding the camp. Figures clad in the distinct armor of the Eremites emerged, their numbers quickly growing as they lined the edges of the cliffs.
“Wait…” Natalia’s gaze flicked to the red-clad warriors. Turning back toward Luo Qing, who was leisurely humming a tune and sketching on a piece of paper, she called out, “Master Luo Qing, maybe now isn’t the time to be drawing… They’ve called reinforcements.”
Natalia rushed to his side as Sergei and another guard took up defensive positions near their leader. Rosalyne, however, remained unconcerned, her calm demeanor unshaken.
“You’re all so tense,” Luo Qing said, not even looking up. “I’m on a roll with this sketch. Let me finish first.”
The paper in his hands contained a design for a sleek, modern combat suit he had imagined—a gift to a certain someone. If realized, it could boost attack speed by at least 50%.
—
Meanwhile, on the cliffs, the reinforcements sneered at the sight of Luo Qing’s group.
“Really, Babale? Five people? You couldn’t even put up a fight against five people? And you call yourselves desert warriors?” one voice jeered.
“Exactly! You might as well disband your tribe now,” another chimed in mockingly.
Babale’s lip curled. “If you’re so confident, then by all means, go ahead. Show me what you’re capable of.”
The Eremite warriors began leaping down from the cliffs, quickly surrounding Luo Qing and his companions in the square.
“Tch, all this for five people,” one of the Eremite leaders scoffed, stepping forward. He was a towering man wielding a massive trident, the weapon glowing faintly with Geo energy.
His gaze lingered on Rosalyne, who stood poised and unbothered in the center of the square.
She was striking—her figure an enticing blend of curves and elegance, her aura exuding cold arrogance.
“That one’s mine. Don’t any of you dare touch her!” the man declared before charging forward, trident raised.
Even through his mask, he could sense her innate haughtiness, and it stirred a primal urge to conquer her.
But reality fell short of his ambition.
Before he could close the distance, Rosalyne raised her hand, and a pillar of ice shot forth, instantly freezing the man solid. A moment later, the ice shattered, leaving only fragments of his body scattered on the ground.
“Pathetic,” Rosalyne muttered, stepping forward with the grace of a predator. Her very presence seemed to cow the surrounding warriors.
“If this is the best you’ve got, I suggest you all come at me together.”
Her words struck a nerve.
“Don’t get cocky, woman!”
“Fine, let’s see if you can handle all of us at once!”
Desert-hardened and experienced in battle, the Eremites had no qualms about fighting unfairly. At their leader’s command, dozens of warriors summoned their shadowy familiars, sending them charging toward Rosalyne.
Some warriors hung back, loosing arrows and elemental projectiles from a distance, hoping to exploit any opening.
Rosalyne let out a soft, derisive hum as she moved forward, her steps as deliberate as a dance.
The air around her grew heavy with Pyro energy. Crimson flames seeped from her skin, her eyes burning with an ominous red glow.
The Eremites and their familiars closed in from all directions. Arrows, elemental blasts, and snarling beasts hurtled toward her.
“Desert fools… Feel the flames,” Rosalyne whispered.
She swept her hands outward, and a vortex of crimson flames erupted around her, forming a spiraling inferno.
The fiery whirlwind not only nullified the incoming projectiles but also surged into the advancing horde, consuming warriors and familiars alike. Agonized screams echoed through the square as the flames devoured their targets.
—
From her vantage point in the crowd, Babale stood frozen in shock.
This…
She had assumed Luo Qing was the primary threat, and that Rosalyne, despite possessing a Vision, was merely a lesser concern.
But now she understood.
Even without Luo Qing lifting a finger, this one woman alone…
She could annihilate the entire tribe.
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