After returning to the Mountain Ridge Tribe, Ang sat quietly in the shade beside a stone house, reflecting on his conversation with Longshan.
Although he had never been able to see the danger Longshan had spoken of, Ang still felt deep respect for the old man who had lived alone atop the mountain for decades.
That determination to guard the tribe for the sake of faith, regardless of life or death, reminded Ang of the diligent elders back in his hometown.
After briefly greeting the lizardmen of the Mountain Ridge Tribe, Ang did not linger. He headed straight for the Fine Cassava fields outside the tribe.
Ang cut nearly a hundred Fine Cassava stalks and stored them in the Demon Sealing Box he carried with him.
Fine Cassava could not only fill the stomach, but also be brewed into liquor or made into low-grade magic potions. It could be considered the lowest-grade magical herb.
Though it was merely an ordinary crop in the Mountain Ridge Tribe, Ang knew full well that if this magical herb were cultivated on a large scale in the North Wind Territory or Amnath, it would certainly become an important resource for the territory's future development.
After putting away the Fine Cassava, Ang did not look back again. He left the Mountain Ridge Tribe in the direction of the Rock Ridge Tribe.
As he traveled onward, the landscape gradually became more desolate.
At first, he could still see scattered shrubs and moss. But after traveling for less than two days, vegetation had nearly vanished, replaced by vast stretches of bare rock.
The rocks here were dark gray, hard in texture, their sharp edges seeming capable of slicing open a foot at any moment.
Ang crouched down, chipped off a piece of rock, and examined it. He