The sun finally set.
Under the dark-cyan sky, the mountains fell into gloom, birds and beasts trembled, and shadows loomed everywhere.
The five Guada Tribe warriors had already lost all their courage. They huddled at the cave entrance, staring fearfully at the increasingly dark world around them. For people like them, who had hidden in caves from birth until this moment, the feeling was truly despairing.
Wu Yuan, however, acted as though nothing was wrong. He set up two bonfires around them and piled up a waist-high stone wall. At that moment, he was roasting several straight tree trunks as thick as bowls over the flames.
Every so often, he took them out and rubbed them furiously against a stone. Yes, rubbed them.
Previously, Zhang Yang had been unable to craft wood spears because of the conditions, while Wu Yuan himself had been muddle-headed under the influence of the soul memories within this body.
But now that he had recovered, he naturally knew how to prepare weapons for himself.
Even if those weapons were still crude beyond words, they were enough.
This was destined to be a night of slaughter. Only through warm blood could he prove that he was still the strongest warrior!
No matter when, where, or under what circumstances.
Zhang Yang, however, was fast asleep. His breathing was steady and his expression peaceful, like the night breeze—utterly at ease.
When the last sliver of daylight faded and the surrounding darkness began to glow beneath the leaping firelight, roars of ferocious beasts rang out from the distant forests, followed by all kinds of strange noises.
Very soon,
It seemed as though countless night birds were flying overhead, whipping up gusts of wind and waves of foul, fishy air. At one moment, even the stars in the night sky