At the astonishing price Jiang Ping An offered, Shi Da Hu's dark face twitched uncontrollably. Pain and regret flashed in his eyes.
It was as though he had watched a mountain of gold slip away before him.
"Brother, you've misunderstood."
Shi Da Hu's voice was a little hoarse. "It's not that I won't give you the herb, or that I can't bear to part with it. We simply can't get any right now!"
"You can't get any?"
Jiang Ping An frowned and stared at him in confusion.
Shi Da Hu heaved a sigh filled with helplessness and resentment. He pointed west of the village.
"Golden Grain Soul Grass used to grow in the fertile river valley upstream."
"Back then, no one had claimed the area. We people of Great Lake Village could still go there now and then to look for herbs and hunt some game. It was dangerous, but at least we had a way to survive."
"But now..."
His voice sank. "The Black Mountain Tribe used its numbers to seize control of the area and declare it their hunting ground. They won't let anyone from small villages like ours near it."
"Cross the boundary, and you'll be beaten half to death if you're lucky. If you're not, you'll lose your life!"
In this savage age, where the strong devoured the weak and no rules held sway, most land had no clear owner.
The most primitive rule prevailed: whoever had the biggest fists and the greatest strength claimed the richest territory.
That was the main reason Shi Da Hu had been willing to speak at length with Jiang Ping An after confirming that he was powerful.
In earlier days, when the weather had been kind and game plentiful, he would never have said more than a few words to