Chapter 38: A New Reason

"Did you hear that?"

"It was the noise from Lord Ian's tent, right?"

A couple of the Tianli clan members, who had woken up, put on their clothes and came out. It seemed they weren't mistaken. They hurriedly ran to where Ian and Beric were and soon confirmed that the entrance was half-open.

"Lord Ian? Are you alright?"

"Is there a problem? Beric, you're not dead, are you?"

As soon as they stepped inside, they saw an unknown figure sprawled on the ground, and Ian was clutching his reddened neck, coughing.

"Cough!"

"Lord Ian? What's going on?"

"That guy, that guy tried to overpower me... He suddenly tried to kill me..."

Only then did they notice the scattered dagger fragments on the ground. They immediately informed the outside and tied the man's arms and legs.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. When I woke up, he was trying to kill me."

"But how did you knock him out? You haven't even received any training, Lord Ian."

"...It just happened."

Ian pretended to stroke his neck, making it seem difficult to answer. Soon, all the members of the clan woke up. Kakantir was also there, dressed only in his lower garments, looking casual.

"What's the commotion? Someone attacked Lord Ian?"

"Kakantir! It's this guy. He's been like this since we found him."

"An idiot? What kind of person is he?"

"Exactly..."

"Who is he? I can't see his face."

It was a purely innocent question, devoid of any malice.

Honestly, even a child of the Tianli clan could have easily overpowered Ian in terms of combat ability. So, how did this guy, with his build, end up unconscious?

"Take off his mask."

Kakantir, though bewildered by this unprecedented situation, carefully examined Ian's condition. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be injured.

"From now on, we will treat you as a guest. If anything unpleasant happens, it would be a great dishonor."

"Thank you."

Kakantir smiled lightly, as if expecting something, and left the tent. Amidst the chaos, Beric was still sleeping with his mouth wide open.

"Snore."

"Haa."

Judging by the loud snoring, he seemed to be recovering. Given the hole in his side, he looked to be in surprisingly good condition.

Ian then noticed a new gurut leaf on the table. He burned a few under the lamp and placed a few more, well-dried, under Beric's nose.

* * *

Swish!

As the darkness cleared, Kakantir's subordinates poured sand on Bumart's face. Normally, they would use water, but this was the middle of the Great Desert. Ian felt a strange burning sensation on his cheeks.

"Keep pouring until he regains consciousness."

"Yes, Kakantir."

Sand poured endlessly, rising to Bumart's chest. Finally, he twitched and regained consciousness. Kakantir looked at him sharply, examining him closely.

"Bumart."

"Ah..."

His limbs were bound, and he was propped up with wooden stakes. Bumart twisted his body, then lifted his head with an expression of injustice.

"Bumart. Did you attack Lord Ian at dawn?"

Bumart hesitated. Human tongues could tell lies, but they had the Wincen. Kakantir would surely discern the truth from the interrogation.

"Kakantir, please... just take my arm and don't ask any more questions. Lord Ian used some strange power. His eyes turned golden, the air condensed, and then exploded. He's definitely suspicious."

Kakantir stared at Bumart intently. Murmurs arose, but only for a moment.

"You're speaking without being asked. Bumart, do you know how disgraceful you look right now?"

Bound in a pile of sand, mumbling in front of the entire clan—any warrior who prioritized honor and glory would have bitten his tongue and died.

Bumart's face turned red with humiliation. Ian, who had been watching quietly, raised his hand.

"May I testify?"

"Go ahead."

"Clearly, he mentioned Derga."

If he was willing to give up an arm to keep a secret, it meant there was something more significant hidden behind it. Everyone stirred, disturbed by Ian's words.

"He seemed to describe my proposal to Kakantir as a scheme and appeared to try to stop it. It seems there was some connection with Derga..."

Ian paused, as if something had just occurred to him. Kakantir patiently waited, while Bumart swallowed hard.

"Have you ever sent a letter to Derga, Bumart?"

On the day Ian sneaked into the office to steal the seal, he had found a letter written in Tianli language in the drawer. He didn't remember the details, but...

"I once saw a letter on Derga's desk that said, 'Who will be the next chief after the current one?' Bumart, was it you?"

Everyone's gaze fell on Bumart, who was kneeling. He glared at Ian with a hardened face, then took a deep breath and bit his tongue.

"Stop him!"

The moment Derga's name was mentioned, the time for a warrior's honorable death had passed. The subordinates immediately pressed their fingers into his tongue and stuffed a cloth into his mouth.

"Mm! Mmm!"

"Bumart! Is this the truth?"

"Stop him! Stuff more cloth in!"

"Damn, what the hell..."

The clan members' faces twisted with shock and betrayal. Ian carefully but confidently speculated.

I've seen such things happen frequently in the palace.

"Perhaps Bumart's actions are related to Wincen's deteriorating health. He is the food supply manager, after all."

Killing Wincen and taking over the chief's position... Indeed, if that had happened, Bumart would have been a strong candidate.

"I don't know the specifics of his collusion with Derga, but I imagine Bumart was promised the glory of being chief, while Derga was promised economic benefits."

Kakantir stared at Bumart in silence, seemingly organizing his thoughts. He then stood up, grabbed Bumart's hair, and dragged him.

"Let no one hear this."

He headed towards Wincen's tent. The subordinates watched the two disappear inside, tense with anticipation. The wait felt like an eternity.

When Kakantir emerged, his face was covered in blood, and he held Bumart's head in his hand.

"Throw him into the desert and bring his family here."

"...Yes, Kakantir."

Not giving him a proper burial and leaving him for the beasts was a declaration of his treason. As Kakantir threw Bumart's head, the clan members spat on it as they passed.

"Lord Ian. A moment."

At Kakantir's call, Ian moved closer. Kakantir wiped his face and hands with a wet towel, muttering.

"We need to adjust our plans."

"What do you mean?"

"Our job was simply to support you when you enter Brats and establish your position."

Directly confronting the central army was too risky. But given the current situation, the Tianli clan had no choice but to get involved in their fight.

"We will take care of Derga's hidden threat."

"Ah."

Daring to pretend to make peace with Kakantir while colluding with their family to kill Wincen, their spiritual pillar, was an act far worse than smuggling gurut leaves.

Ian nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation.

"I understand, but it might be difficult."

"Why?"

"Because Derga's crime is 'treason.' If the palace investigation team, which has been traveling for a month to execute him, finds out that a border tribe has already dealt with him, it would be quite awkward."

The execution of a traitor was a grand, cruel, and solemn event. It was the highlight of the festival, and they couldn't hand it over to a border tribe.

"Still, we, I, must kill Derga myself."

"...It's not impossible."

Kakantir's resolve seemed unshakable.

"Following our original plan, I will take control of the Brats territory. More precisely, 'officially.' If that happens, I can be involved in the execution and assist in upholding the Tianli clan's will."

"In any case, we must help you."

"You're too kind. I'm the one asking for help."

Kakantir's lips curled into a smile, not out of happiness but in anticipation of the future.

"Alright. Let's do it."

"Demosh."

"Demosh."

Ian and Kakantir exchanged a fist salute. At that moment, a doctor approached and called out to Ian.

"Beric has regained consciousness."

"...Already?"

"Just his mind, not his body."

"...Ah."

Ian nodded, catching the subtle implication.