From Slave to King: My Rebate System Built Me a Kingdom With Beauties!-Chapter 173: Welcome, Stonehide Tribe.

The Chieftess came down the mountain with her entire tribe, their massive forms descending the rocky passes in a procession that made the earth tremble with each synchronized step.

The sun hung low in the sky, this was no longer a camp, but a settlement that sprawled with purpose and structure. The mountain winds carried the scent of pine and stone dust as they walked, their leather armor creaking softly, weapons clinking with a rhythm that sounded almost ceremonial.

She was no longer going to live in the mountain stronghold, for she had secured it through ancient rites and blood oaths, placing wards carved into the rock faces and claiming it as sovereign territory that none would dare challenge.

The caves and peaks were hers by right of conquest and tradition, but more importantly, she wanted to watch Byung from a close distance, to observe this anomaly who had defied every expectation and rewritten the rules she thought immutable.

He had exceeded every single expectation she had set for him during their duel. She had tested his strength, his adaptability, his will to survive when faced with overwhelming power and killing intent that should have broken his spirit like dry kindling.

Yet he had not only endured but got better mid-battle, his body sharpening like a blade in the forge, his perception heightening to track her movements that should have been invisible blurs.

He had turned her own momentum against her, landed a strike that drew blood from a warrior who had stood undefeated for decades, earned respect in a way that no amount of begging or political maneuvering ever could.

This already placed him above all the men she had met—orc warlords who boasted of conquests but crumbled under her gaze like sand castles before waves, human knights who challenged her honor with flowery speeches and died screaming when steel met flesh, dwarven champions who fought with technical skill but lacked the spark of something more, that indefinable quality that separated true warriors from pretenders.

Byung had that spark, that dangerous combination of intelligence and instinct that made him unpredictable, fascinating.

She didn’t need to worry about the mountain being overrun in her absence because this was the ultimate goal of their alliance—mutual protection, shared territory, a buffer against threats that neither could face alone. The mountain stronghold would remain hers by right, her honor guards rotating through to maintain the wards and keep watch over the high passes. But her presence here in the valley, among the goblins, would cement the bond forged in combat and sealed with respect, demonstrate to any who doubted that the Stonehide tribe stood with Byung’s people.

Every goblin in the town stopped what they were doing as the Stonehide tribe entered through the main road. Hammers paused mid-swing at the forges, the metallic ring cutting off abruptly, leaving only the hiss of cooling metal and the crackle of fires. Scouts froze on watchtowers, hands shading their eyes as they tracked the procession. Young goblins hid behind the older goblin legs with wide eyes, peeking out to stare at the towering figures who moved with predatory grace despite their size.

The orcs were imposing—seven to eight feet tall, muscles like corded steel rippling under scarred green skin, weapons that gleamed with deadly purpose strapped to backs and belts. Their presence radiated power that made the air feel thick, charged like the moments before a storm breaks.

But the cold look in the Chieftess’s red eyes had softened somewhat, the perpetual frost that made lesser beings avert their gaze now tempered with something approaching curiosity, perhaps even approval.

Byung had changed her view on this entire race, challenged the assumptions she had carried for centuries like stones in her heart. Goblins were supposed to be weak, cowardly, disposable—vermin to be exterminated or ignored.

But here was proof that they could be more, could build, could fight, could evolve into something worthy of respect.

Maybe they weren’t so worthless after all, if they could produce one like him.

The thought unsettled her in ways she didn’t fully understand, shaking foundations she had thought unshakeable.

Maui saw her approach and instantly knew there was one more test Byung had to pass, a trial she hadn’t anticipated but should have recognized from orc tradition.

She gulped, her throat suddenly dry despite the cool evening air, her hands clenching at her sides.

He had to satisfy her in bed. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, making her stomach twist with a mixture of anxiety and something else she couldn’t name.

This would be a lot harder to accomplish than the fight, perhaps impossible, because the Chieftess had a body men yearned for—curves that could break hearts, strength that could crush bones, beauty that was as dangerous as it was captivating, skin smooth as polished jade, breasts and hips that drew eyes like moths to flame—but those men barely met the qualification to even gaze upon it, let alone touch.

Most who tried found themselves dismissed with icy contempt or, worse, hospitalized from the sheer force of her rejection when they presumed too much.

The Chieftess’s standards were impossibly high, forged by centuries of disappointment and disgust at the weakness she encountered.

Maui quickly greeted the Chieftess with a deep head bow, her braids falling forward as she bent at the waist, showing deference and respect ingrained from years of orc culture.

"Chieftess," she said, voice carrying just enough to be heard over the murmurs of the gathering crowd.

"You honor us with your presence. The town welcomes the Stonehide tribe."

Byung had seen her in the distance, his golden eyes tracking the procession as he descended the stone steps from the mine entrance where he had been overseeing forge operations and reviewing weapon production quotas. He approached with measured strides, his simple armor gleaming faintly in the fading yellow sunrays, the bone daggers at his belt a reminder of battles won through cunning and ruthless efficiency. Byung had no idea about the expectation that he would have to fuck her, the cultural weight behind such a union—his mind focused on logistics, on greeting the Chieftess properly, on ensuring the tribe’s integration into the town proceeded smoothly without friction or misunderstanding. Politics and practicality, always his focus.

The Stonehide tribe were astonished by what they saw as they entered the town proper, their eyes widening fractionally despite their stoic training. The advancement of this civilization in just a month showed how capable Byung truly was, how his mind worked on levels most couldn’t comprehend.

Structured buildings instead of tents, organized professions instead of chaotic survival, paved roads instead of mud paths, functioning supply chains that moved food and resources with clockwork efficiency.

This wasn’t a desperate survival camp clinging to existence but a thriving community that rivaled some orc settlements in efficiency and surpassed them in innovation and adaptability.

Byung noticed they were a little over a dozen strong, their number small but each warrior radiating power that made the air feel heavy, oppressive, like standing too close to a forge fire. Quality over quantity. If each of these orcs were stronger than the average orc—and their bearing suggested they were elite even among the Stonehide—that was more than enough to tip any battle decisively in their favor, to make enemies think twice before attacking.

Maui looked over her shoulder at Byung approaching, and she shuddered involuntarily, a chill running down her spine despite the warm evening.

She had completely forgotten about this cultural expectation, this unspoken rule among orc leadership where strength was proven not just in battle but in intimacy, in the ability to match a partner’s power.