The heavy rain had fallen for two days straight.
Mud was everywhere in the North Wolf Tribe. Some patches came from uneven roads, while others were simply pits trampled out by the gray wolves.
The Barbarians of the North Wolf Tribe naturally paid no mind to any of this.
Rather than concern themselves with the useless paths beneath their feet, they preferred to think about what to eat and drink each day, hoping to hunt down more wild beasts and ferocious beasts when they went out.
Of course, catching a few Wei slaves foolish enough to cross their path would be even better.
Unfortunately, the North Wolf Tribe lay deep within Barbarian Tribe territory, nowhere near the Wei Dynasty border to the north, and very few Wei people came here.
Even counting generously, the entire tribe had only as many Wei people as one could count on two hands: one or two were the chief's slaves, four were female slaves serving the priest, and another four were "guests."
Though they were called "guests," the Barbarians of the North Wolf Tribe actually found them all an eyesore.
Especially their leader, the man wearing a Black Iron Mask. They could not see his face and knew only that he was thin and small, with a longsword hanging at his waist.
Their reason for disliking him was simple: that Wei man in the Black Iron Mask often wandered around the tribe. Unlike previous "guests," he showed not the slightest restraint.
Had the tribe's authorities not told them that he carried a travel token from the Black Bear Tribe, their warriors would have torn him to pieces long ago.
"Hmph, ho, ho-where did that black-iron freak go today?"
"He was at the back gate this morning."
"What was he doing there?"
"Lord Gangduo asked