After three consecutive groups of prisoners had fallen from the waterfall and been buried in the fishes' bellies.
Ye Zi's group of prisoners was driven to the riverbank by Bull Tail Whips and Ram Horn Spears, stumbling as they went.
The boy's face was now weathered by wind and frost.
The lines outlining his features appeared especially hard and sharp, making him faintly resemble his older brother.
The three days since his home had been destroyed had passed as swiftly as three blinks.
Yet everything that had happened during those three blinks felt like three lifetimes.
Before this, Ye Zi had never traveled so far from his homeland.
Ratfolk carried impure blood and could not migrate freely, lest they contaminate the land where their ancestral spirits slept.
They could only huddle within the settlements assigned by the Clan Lords, usually among harsh, towering mountains.
Fortunately, even on the most barren land, Mandala Trees could flourish and bear enough Mandala Fruit for the Ratfolk to live in plenty and multiply.
Thus, Ye Zi had never felt any need to leave his homeland.
As long as he could stand atop the tallest Mandala Tree amid the cliffs and gaze at the horizon from afar, he had been content.
Only now did he learn that there were such rugged and impassable mountain paths in the world.
So many strange and bizarre plants that ate people.
Even Totem Beasts came in so many varieties. The most powerful ones required seven or eight Bloodhoof Warriors, all entering a state of Totem Berserk, to deal with them.
Of course, after three days of arduous trekking, he and the other prisoners had suffered beyond measure.
Many had been swallowed by swamps, bitten to death by venomous insects, or torn to pieces by Totem Beasts.
Others had simply