Dragon Tribulation of All Realms

Chapter 274 The Power of the Collective Unconscious
"Follow me, Northmen, for I am the king chosen by the Old Gods!"

The city wall collapsed.

The army was routed.

Having activated his bloodline, Jon Snow possessed a power far greater than he had anticipated. He had expected to expend considerable effort to achieve final victory, but he never imagined that when he raised his longsword, rode his giant wolf, and leaped atop the heavily fortified walls, the city defenses that had once seemed so vast and imposing to him would appear so weak.

With just a swing of his sword, soldiers fell in droves.

All you need to do is keep your head down and move forward, and even the bravest warrior will kneel down.

No one could stop him, no one could hurt him. Even if a seasoned archer reacted and fired a stray arrow, he could strike back and knock him down before the swift arrow even touched his back.

He single-handedly defeated all the warriors in the castle.

He single-handedly overcame all the obstacles.

And when he severed the drawbridge connecting the moat, riding his giant wolf to the pinnacle of victory and issuing his final declaration, both his former adversaries and his current subordinates bowed down before his voice and power.

"King of the North!" cried one of his followers. "The King of the North chosen by the Old Gods!"

“We submit…we follow the King of the North chosen by the Old Gods!” His defeated subordinate hesitated for only a moment.

Because they knew him, because he had single-handedly defeated them all. And because he had only wielded his sword, without causing much bloodshed.

Victory was thus in his hands.

Thus, the foundation of his hegemonic enterprise was laid in his hands.

He then laughed heartily, displaying the same tolerance and generosity as Robert Baratheon in his prime. He didn't understand the ways of kingship, but he at least knew that his father Eddard Stark's methods would be utterly useless in the rise of a monarch.

"Prepare food, prepare weapons, prepare your soldiers!" he shouted, his voice so loud it shook the sturdy city walls. "Follow me, and I will bring you victory and glory!"

Countless people responded to him.

The rare discordant notes were drowned out by the tide of voices.

Perhaps even Jon Snow himself didn't expect his actions and words to have such considerable power. And what followed was the rise of the sons of the dragon and wolf.

Because he had taken the first and most important step. He had established his authority with an undeniable victory and won armaments for his men—the Night's Watch and the barbarians beyond the Wall were, after all, just a group of lightly armed and poorly equipped infantry. But now, they had camps, provisions, and fine swords and armor.

The snowball thus began to roll.

A snowball that's started rolling won't stop easily.

After the first city fell, the second fell even faster. And when the third noble territory blocking his path bared its fangs, he simply ripped the gates open with a casual charge. The remaining ninety percent of the work was done by his soldiers and the surrendered northern nobles.

Victory, and then another victory.

His army grew at an unimaginable pace, quickly reaching tens of thousands in number. Unlike the soldiers led by other nobles, who would tire after just one major battle, his followers were not only full of energy, but their physiques and strength were also quietly increasing.

He has arrived at the gates of Winterfell.

"Indeed, the humans on this land possess a collective subconscious. And they are now striving to save themselves."

Hera remained among the crowd, but unlike before, she was now riding a dire wolf—she and Wuchen appeared seamlessly and naturally within Jon Snow's newly established Knights of the Old Gods. They had also provided some minor assistance in the previous battle.

Not much, really just a little. Their contribution did not exceed the weight they were supposed to bear in their current positions. It was just an overly fortified fortress and a few exceptionally brave warriors. And nothing more.

The mind-control ritual was only used initially to help Jon consolidate his forces. After that, they did not exert any mental influence on Jon's men or enemies other than concealing their own whereabouts.

They didn't do anything.

They simply watched as this young man, who considered himself to bear a heavy responsibility, recklessly and impulsively wielded his immense power on this frozen northern land.

Everything shouldn't have gone so smoothly. He wasn't, after all, a truly recognized Stark, and the Wolf Family had ruled this land for countless ages—in the Northern Kingdoms, no one questioned the Starks' rule. And those who dared challenge this order were destined to face the fiercest resistance.

That's how it should be.

Among the noble territories he conquered were old-school lords, loyal, upright, and rigid, willing to shed their last drop of blood for the Stark family. His name, 'Jon,' would normally only invite contempt and ridicule, but now they all knelt before him.

They were affected.

This influence stems from collective cognition, from the spiritual ocean of pan-consciousness. And naturally, once it is recognized, it is successfully placed under Hera's observation.

“A very interesting topic.” Hera adjusted the pointed hat that she had somehow gotten into. “I might spend some time on this.”

She turned her head and looked at Wu Chen, who was also riding a dire wolf.

The latter responded knowingly.

“Go on with your work,” he said. “Perfect timing, I’ve also sensed a new goal.”

Wu Chen raised his hand, and an invisible pointer was created by his magic. The end of the pointer pointed in a certain direction within Winterfell.

There lie his lost possessions, his treasure trove of power. Even if that treasure isn't particularly powerful.

He nodded, ignoring the beautiful witch beside him, lost in her academic world. In the distance, a resounding horn blew atop the fortress. The gates of Winterfell opened before the army.

"Only knights are allowed in! The rest of you, set up camp outside Winterfell!"

Robb Stark was left behind, and he appeared on the city walls with his mother. A battle that should have taken place was thus averted. And the capital city of the North prematurely welcomed a king from the North.

The sound of wolf hooves rang out, and the commander's order was immediately issued.

Wu Chen did not hesitate for even a second. He pulled on the reins and urged the dire wolf beneath him forward.

(End of this chapter)