The Rise of History’s Most Powerful Empire

Denel was the chieftain of one of the strongest tribes in 10 km, tribe Monla.

Monla had 230 people but only 100 of them were strong warriors and the most impressive force in the area.

Even 50km south of the Lost Plains it was only a mid tier tribe in the Ender Tribe Alliance. 

It was all because of that abominable neighbor, the Edson tribe who was always against them in unifying the other tribes and reaching a thousand heads. This caused trouble  holding power in the alliance and barely making the cut to be a mid tribe. Yet today, these two tribes, these two bitter enemies, have gathered in one place.

The dark hall, of wood and stone, was very crude. But with how primitive their civilizations were, it was rare and majestic in their eyes. 

Inside, the bearded Denel sat in his seat of honor, one he took pride in calling it a throne. Even though it was just a huge rock simply adorned with the skin of a tiger he hunted alone. He often sat on it, to showcase his bravery and might.

However this time was different as he was frowning in worry. But what could possibly affect the supreme chief in this 10 km radius?

On his left sat Anderson, Edson tribe's patriarch. He was an old man, once a mighty warrior but now he was weak and just sitting around eating, waiting for death. 

But he made up for it with his cunningness which is something savages lacked. His eyes flickered with a scheming light ashis body let out a cold aura that deterred anyone from approaching. 

The two sat there in the hall as time just ticked away with every heavy breath in the otherwise oppressive silence.

Denel had enough. As with his rough temper, patience was his most lacking virtue. 

"Anderson, speak to me. What are we to do with the rise of that new tribe?" Denel exclaimed in anger and fear mixed together. 

"It's been only ten days since it appeared, yet it took down the smaller tribes in twenty miles. They must now have over three hundred people."

Anderson paused, for Denel's sake, before continuing.

"While both of our tribes together are only four hundred. Neither of us alone is a match for it. If we are to defend ourselves, we must do it together!"

Anderson closed his mouth once finished, letting him ponder the words, whether the plan would be worth using.

Denel was in a frown over Anderson's proposition, his fingers rapping on the armrest of his throne. 

The sounds echoed through the large hall, as if to bear testament to Denel's inner turmoil.

‘Alliance. Mine and Anderson's tribe are enemies, and who knows how long our feud will last? Years, decades, centuries?'

For the sake of power in this small stretch of land, these two tribes had sent so many good men to their deaths, their bones could practically cover these plains. 

With mother earth as witness, the tribes had painted inch by inch with blood.

Now, to put aside this deep seeded hatred with Anderson's clan, was not something he alone could do. His tribe would refuse completely. But without combining their efforts, both of their clans would perish. ‘Oh, great ancestral spirit, please give me a sign!'

As the prayer crossed his mind over and over, his palms did not reflect his thoughts by touching as well. Finally, Denel steeled his will and took on a savage look, seeping bloodthirst. 

"Anderson, I accept. Our tribes shall unite to put an end to the new enemy. Afterward, we will fight." He shot to his feet and stared Anderson down, waiting for an answer.

A smile played on Anderson's lips, "Denel, I was right about you, a true chieftain that had fought me for the past dozen years. Alright, we will work together and gather all our forces in ten days. This will be enough time for you to settle your tribe's matters so we can focus on wiping out the enemy."

The two walked in the center, pulled out their blades and  cut their palms and held them together in vow.

Anderson then left the hall and joined his tribesmen in returning to his tribe with a ruthless conviction.

Denel called for the shaman. A shaman in charge of ritual sacrifices was a most respected position. It signified the connection to one's ancestral spirits. Their very word was their ancestor's will.

In this backward society, they were of firm belief the ancestors could bless them. This made such an ability in high demand among these tribes. 

After the shaman arrived, they discussed for a long time in private. All the others just saw the shaman walk out with a heavy look and climb on the sacrificial altar. 

Denel followed by gathering the tribe around the altar. He walked up and demanded for the alliance with the Edson tribe to take place.

Speaking with an absolute attitude in a tone that left no room for dissent, he ordered for this command to be carried out, just as the shaman consented as well.

The people left for their homes in anger, all of them. None of them had the heart to put in this plan. They all joined their families in discussing Denel's words, and each of them was filled with heavy malcontent for Denel.

In the dead of night, the clan's elders gathered in a remote house for secret talks. There were many brave and known warriors here as well. 

While that happened, Denel convened with his own loyal warriors in the hall. He bolstered, explained and exaggerated, making the faces of the warriors grow solemn and ready to act.

Anderson convened with his warriors as well, armed and ready.

T'was February 10, New Era, year 1, Lost Plains, Ender Alliance's Monla tribe and Edson tribe. In the elders' revolt, all of them were cut down with impunity. With the passing of each tribe's unrest, their power plummeted. Both tribes now barely qualified as having 200 people, having lost twenty warriors of 100.

The two tribes ruling made up of the circle of elders with the chieftain went through drastic change into totalitarianism. All power focused on a single man, the chieftain. What would the future of the weakened tribes hold?

(Note: from the moment of Zhong Yu's arrival into this world, the calendar changed to the New Era.)