Sunlight bathed the land, and a gentle breeze blew.
Yet in the Arathi Highlands, tension filled the Hauge Tribe. Its people stood with weapons in hand behind the stockade of lashed logs, watching the situation outside through the gaps.
Several dozen people stood outside the Hauge Tribe's settlement.
Clad in armor that covered their bodies, they held their weapons and stood in orderly ranks. From a distance, they looked as straight as posts.
The impressive sight sent a powerful shock through the Hauge Tribe.
"Are they the people of the Arathi Tribe?" The old man raised an arm and pointed at the people outside the Hauge Tribe's settlement, questioning a man who had escaped from the battle with the Arathi Tribe.
"Yes, yes, yes, they're from the Arathi Tribe. The iron armor they wear offers incredible protection, and their weapons are unbelievably sharp. Even a light slash across our bodies leaves a terrible wound." The man Old Zhu questioned was middle-aged. He did not speak particularly quickly, but once he opened his mouth, he would not stop. Sentence after sentence poured out as he shared every opinion he had.
"Shut up!" The old man grew angry. This fellow had said far too much, including things he should never have mentioned.
The old man glanced around. Those who had heard the man's words were visibly shaken, their eyes flickering with panic and their faces showing varying degrees of fear.
The effect of those ill-advised words was clear: he had damaged their morale.
In the man's account, the people of the Arathi Tribe were simply invincible enemies. No matter how many people they had, they would be no match for the Arathi Tribe.
How could words like that please Old Zhu? He ordered someone beside him, "Take him away. He's not thinking