Eight-Armed Asura trembled all over in fright upon hearing this. "Please see clearly, Old Ancestor. I truly don't have the nerve."
It knew the Old Ancestor was speaking in anger, but it truly did not dare agree outright and could only defend itself with all its might.
"That's exactly why I say you're stupid!" The Old Ancestor did not take it to heart, but immediately afterward, it pointed something out.
"If even you think that way, I'm worried they might start getting ideas!"
"Please rest assured, Old Ancestor." Eight-Armed responded decisively. "I will definitely suppress any unrest within the tribe. If necessary... I will show no mercy."
It was not that it had no regard for its fellow tribesmen. It was simply that extraordinary times called for extraordinary measures.
The Old Ancestor fell silent. After a while, it gave a soft snort. "You may hint to them not to underestimate the tribe's reserves..."
"But this information must be strictly controlled. It absolutely must not reach the ears of those Immortals."
Although the Great Strength Tribe had fled to this world, it was by no means poor.
In its original world, it could also be considered part of the Imperial Clan.
Moreover, that world had been conquered by Cultivators, allowing them to monopolize many benefits.
Thus, the term "reserves" was no empty claim. The Asuras of this world had repeatedly demanded benefits from them before.
Fortunately, Great Strength had always had a Great Venerable, who stated firmly that they had brought only this much and had no spare resources.
The local Asuras did not wish to thoroughly enrage a Great Venerable, so they could only apply pressure repeatedly, occasionally gaining small returns.
Now that the warehouse had been completely emptied, it was not necessarily true that there were absolutely no other