Shanghuang Tribe.
Inside the enormous karst cave beneath Tribal Land Mountain, a battered ship lay moored in the water.
The hull had largely been repaired, though the patchwork was rather ugly.
At the break, mortise joints had been carved into the longitudinal main keel, awaiting suitable large keel timbers to be joined in.
The Shanghuang Tribe's temple keeper looked at the patched hull, his eyes filled with nothing but excitement.
Chief Huang Yun hurried over.
"What happened?"
The old temple keeper frowned and said nothing.
"Huangshi has returned from the market. The Shanghu Tribe refuses to trade after the annual sacrifice."
"They said the crude iron can wait, but we need to add three more sets of armor."
"Impossible! Those are witch weapons!" The old temple keeper flew into a rage.
"You know how difficult witchcraft is to cultivate. Who knows how many years it will take us to make witch weapons ourselves?"
How could Huang Yun not know?
Witchcraft was simply too difficult!
The temple keeper's gaze darkened in thought. "At most, one set of armor. Otherwise, we will not make this trade. I refuse to believe we cannot find ironwood elsewhere!"
They had crossed forests and mountains, mobilizing two thousand warriors and able-bodied tribesmen, just to obtain twenty-seven witch blades and fourteen sets of leather armor.
To trade for ironwood, they had already offered nine sets in addition to ten thousand jun of crude iron.
"Fine. I'll go speak with Shui Miao myself."
Huang Yun said bitterly, "Back then, we had our clansmen wear armor for safety on the road, and that old bastard Shui Miao set his sights on it. I think the crude iron is just a smokescreen. They simply want more armor."
"But if we hadn't worn armor, we would have nearly been buried at