"Couldn't you be a little gentler?
Was there any need to be so simple and brutal?
Please, I'm your woman, not some enemy. Did you really have to go at me with such a heavy hand?
You don't know the first thing about cherishing a delicate flower."
It was clear that Feng Ming's grievances toward Qin Jiuge ran deep.
Before long, the two arrived at a tribe within this forbidden area.
Shouts rose and fell throughout the tribe. Dense jungle surrounded them, along with thorny brambles and all manner of tiny venomous creatures.
Looking ahead, they saw Feng Jiuqing in the very center of the tribe, trapped inside a cage woven from thorns.
Her entire body had been bled. Her face was deathly pale, and she looked feeble beyond measure. The people of this tribe had clearly subdued and restrained her completely, which was only to be expected.
From the very beginning, Feng Jiuqing had lost more than half her spiritual power in the vortex passage. Then she had faced dangers from every direction, until only her mortal flesh remained of any use. If a small mishap occurred after that, it would have been entirely understandable—not to mention that she had encountered these primitive tribespeople.
Every one of them was far from ordinary. They were not merely common savages.
A burst of booming laughter suddenly rang out. It came from the tribe's chieftain, Piev Hegel. He was short—a genuine dwarf—with a face full of beard and huge bell-like eyes.
Holding a weapon resembling a Wolf-Tooth Mace, he quickly walked up to Feng Jiuqing. He slapped the thorn cage around her and cried out excitedly again and again, "With such a sacred relic, our dwarf race has nothing left to fear! One day, we will utterly conquer this vast jungle plain.