By the banks of the Zhu River.
Two figures gazed at the surging Zhu River. Several figures stood solemnly in each of two distant directions.
"Old Bird, do you think this is real or fake?"
Yuan Feng, chieftain of the Yuan Shan Tribe, spoke.
"At most, it's just a batch of slaves." Cang He, chieftain of the Cangniao Tribe, replied.
"That's true. If he really is a young master from the Ling Yu Marquis Tribe, even if he's from a branch lineage, he'd still be someone we could never hope to look up to. Now that he's come to this stretch of wilderness, we must make contact with him."
Yuan Feng muttered, seeming to speak to himself, yet also seeming to speak to Cang He.
The news their elders had brought back had prompted both tribes to convene clan meetings overnight.
The news was simply too shocking.
A young master from a branch lineage of the Ling Yu Marquis Tribe—a great figure their ancestors had never encountered for countless generations.
After discussing it, they decided that, whether it was true or false, they had to give it a try. What if it was real, and he wished to command them?
"Old Bird, you've got a good head on your shoulders. Analyze this for me. Why didn't the young master of the Marquis Tribe bring more people with him? Why does he need small tribes like ours?"
Cang He could not even be bothered to answer Yuan Feng's question. He turned and headed east.
"In three days, my tribe's first batch of two thousand slaves will be ready. I'll send them over first and see."
"Three days? You're even bringing out all your mine slaves?"
Yuan Feng froze. Two thousand people was no small number. Although they controlled the market settlement,