Chapter 175: The Gate to the South

Chapter 173 The Gate of the South

Everything has an end, whether it is the members of the royal family of Qarth or this war.

Mathos Mararovin fought alone and was hacked to death by the Dothraki warriors, and the battle of Kaiser Pass finally ended.

Except for the elite warriors of Qarth who were seriously injured and fainted, there were no people wearing copper scale armor and long-beaked helmets alive on this hillside. Only a very small number of slave soldiers escaped back to other positions or fleets.

However, the victorious Dothraki were too tired to feel joy or sadness.

Many warriors were seriously injured, and the number of people who died in this war was even more difficult to calculate. No precedent can fully describe today's tragic situation.

The hillside was full of corpses, some were stabbed to death, hacked to death, burned to death, some were crushed to death by boulders, and some were shot through the head by archers.

The air was filled with the smell of fire. Many defense facilities were burned or pushed into the burning trenches. Many bodies were burned beyond recognition. The entire battlefield was shrouded in burnt and smelly smoke.

Facing the ruins and the scene of killing, Mosuo, who had unloaded a heavy burden in his heart, had his eyes blurred by fatigue and tears.

Next, people began to try to clear a path in the wreckage. More than a dozen soldiers carried five stretchers and walked out of the pile of corpses. Everyone who met them put their fists on their chests to salute.

They carefully placed the dead thousand households on the clean ground and covered the bodies of the captains with black cloaks. They also held several torches. The flames were pale in the sun and swayed left and right in the wind.

After all the warriors paid silent tribute to the victims, the funeral pyre of the Dothraki was lit at noon. The brave descendants of the horse god died in a distant country. They slept in the Kaiser Pass beside the Skadden River, and could never return home in triumph, to the holy city and green grasslands in the north.

Mosso also came to the pyre. His face was gray due to fatigue, and the onlookers could feel his grief.

At the same time, he kept muttering something, and his voice became louder and louder, as if these heroic souls were going farther and farther away.

"The flame is like blood, and death is like a shadow. Dothraki warriors will never bow their heads."

His words were as calm as the warm sunshine sprinkled on the spring water, with a kind of peace beyond death, as if these warriors in front of him had just stepped into their destination.

Finally, all the ceremonies were over, and Mosso's heavy emotions immediately disappeared, and his soft heart hardened again. He said no more and turned away.

The surviving officers followed closely behind. They now admired this brave and fearless old Wanhu and dared not despise him anymore.

"The price of this victory was too painful. Lazha Wanhu actually lost half of its officers on the same day." While returning the salute to the soldiers he met on the road, Mosuo asked the officers behind him:

"Who can lead the tribes on their behalf at this time?"

Hearing the commander's question, the officers thought quickly. The Qianhu who had raised objections before the war was the first to answer:

"I personally think that before the arrival of the great Kao, the hundred households with the highest merits in each Qianhu should take charge of the tribes."

The other officers nodded in agreement, and then Mosuo spoke:

"Then don't waste any more time. The current situation is very urgent. Go and convey the appointment quickly! The great Kao once said that the officer must be a meritorious person."

The officer received the order and turned away. The other Qianhu followed Mosuo and continued to move forward.

Not far away, there was a man wearing a sheepskin shirt, with a scimitar hanging on his waist. His skin color was the same as that of the Dothraki, but his height was about the same as that of a child.

When he saw Mosso and his group, he shouted happily in a singing voice:

"Sir Mosso! Great, you know? I guessed it was you a long time ago, but they all said it was impossible and didn't dare to follow me to attack the Qarth people. How did you do it?"

Mosso laughed and took the hand of the Lajarin and said:

"Black Sheep, I'm so glad to see you! It's a pity that now is not the time to chat."

The Dothraki nicknamed the Dothraki "Sheep Man" because of their cowardly character.

However, the boy in front of him was different. Mosso thought he was brave enough, but he just lacked some necessary teachings, so he let him receive training as a horse warrior and fully supported him to become the leader of the Lajarin.

The boy was once just a shepherd boy without a real name. He had a close relationship with the Dothraki, so he got the name Black Sheep.

Then, they walked towards the tent that the Qarth people had set up. Black Sheep used this time to describe his great achievements.

"The reason I am here is that I have been chasing the Qarth fleet." He held the scimitar and tried to act like a brave Dothraki warrior, and said happily:

"If they row their famous boats to the shore, I will lead people to attack them and burn their ships."

"But this is completely unable to use all my abilities and knowledge." Black Sheep seemed to remember something, and he couldn't help but sigh and said:

"Unfortunately, my tribe is too small and too weak. They just want to escape and go back to the pasture to graze."

"I really hope that all Lajarin people are like Dothraki warriors. You are the bravest, most skilled in fighting, and the most powerful of all races."

Mosuo had been watching the black sheep, and seeing the fearlessness and genuine regret on his face, he put his hand on his head, stroked his short black hair, and slowly said:

"Don't worry, the war has not yet reached its end. There will always be some Lazha people who are as brave as you. My Lazha camp has gathered many of your compatriots. You can go there to find real warriors and take back your territory."

"That's great!" The black sheep's face instantly became excited, he puffed out his chest, and showed his With a proud look, he said:

"If I lead them, we will definitely be able to take back Lacha, and I think I can still find some food for you from there."

"You are a young boy!" Mosuo stroked his beard, looked at the black sheep, and laughed:

"You will create a bright future for the Lachalin people. This will be an honor that you will never forget and be proud of in your life."

At this time, they just came to the tent of Mathos Mararovin, the former commander of Qarth.

Everyone fell silent, watching the shimmering Skajdan River under the bright sun in the south. Countless warships were wandering on the river, and farther away was the pass of Meereen.

In Mosuo's eyes, this is the gate to the south. He can already see the scenery of Meereen City and Slaver Bay through this gate. This is by no means the last war, but the beginning of everything.