The men of the White Tribe wielded machetes and bows, fighting desperately between the houses, but the Black Tribe outnumbered them and steadily forced them back.
If they retreated any farther, there would be nowhere left to retreat to. The women, children, and elderly of the village were behind them. If these men failed, the elderly would be killed for having no value, the women would be taken captive, and the children would become slaves. In the Hundred Thousand Mountains, where survival was harsh, there was no such thing as mercy.
On a rooftop, a seventeen- or eighteen-year-old White Tribe youth tore away the roof stones and raised them high before smashing them down!
In a narrow alley between ancient stone houses, a burly man was struck in the head by a stone, his skull bursting apart as he died on the spot. Stones rained down one after another, killing and wounding the attacking men.
In the distance, a Black Tribe man raised a bamboo blowpipe at the youth and blew hard!
Whoosh~
The young man holding up the stone toppled into the alley with it and died. Brutal fighting was everywhere. Any boy over thirteen or fourteen joined this battle to defend their homeland, because by the rules of the Hundred Thousand Mountains, once the village was breached, they would all be slaughtered as sacrifices to the gods.
Arrows flew wildly and wails rose without end. The burly chieftain gripped a long blade and charged step by step to the forefront, plunging into the enemy ranks!
He was a cultivator. The cultivation system of the Southern Wasteland differed from that of the Central Plains. This chieftain cultivated like a demon beast, following the path of body cultivation. This was common in the Southern Wasteland; the chieftains of most tribes