Hard candy, packed with enough calories to replenish the body's needs, was unquestionably hard currency in the Wasteland.
Whether it was the Wasteland after twelve years or the outside Wasteland after three, this kind of hard currency could be quickly exchanged for supplies in any territory.
That was why Su Mo had loaded a full eight crates of hard candy into his Object-Carrying Soul Plate: to obtain a sum of startup capital.
Unexpectedly, before the time for exchange arrived, half a crate had already been handed out to subdue these people.
The effect was naturally excellent.
Especially the trick of descending from the sky. Even without Su Mo deliberately reminding them, the youths surrounding him were already howling slogans about the divine spirit manifesting and protecting the Flame Fist Tribe—slogans that sounded absurdly chuunibyou.
"Priest Tang Ma, do you believe now that this tribal chief has already received the divine spirit's oracle?"
Su Mo tilted his head and looked at the old man slowly getting to his feet.
In fact, from the moment his killing intent began to fade, Tang Ma's threat had already ceased to exist.
However, Su Mo had asked this question because he needed to establish his authority in this unfamiliar tribe.
The Flame Fist Tribe? He did not have the slightest memory of it.
If he could not bluff this group under such circumstances, then once his deception was exposed, he would be placed in an extremely passive position.
"Yes, I believe this is a blessing bestowed by the divine spirit!"
Tang Ma nodded submissively. Clearly understanding Su Mo's meaning, he raised the scepter in his hand and said softly:
"I, Tang Ma, priest of the Flame Fist Tribe, formally acknowledge Su Mo as the new tribal chief of the Flame Fist Tribe!"
As his voice