The speaker was Du Zhong's grandfather, Du Lang, the Chief of Fangs of the Eastern Nether Great Tribe. Although the old man had yet to achieve Dao Zun Formation, his grandson was qualified to inherit leadership of the great tribe, which lent considerable force to his words.
Poor Du Xiang had poured painstaking effort into raising two prodigiously gifted grandsons, only for both to die at Mu Bai's hands. Now his face was dark as he rubbed the brilliant Golden Hoop on his forehead, lost in thought without offering an opinion.
He had dealt with Mu Bai several times already. In particular, his repeated failures to kill Mu Bai had become a knot of gloom in Du Xiang's heart that he had struggled to unravel for years. Fortunately, Mu Bai had gone alone into the Beast Territory, his fate unknown, allowing Du Xiang's mood to improve over the past few years. He had even achieved Dao Zun Formation and thought he could rest easy, with everything going his way. He had never expected Mu Bai to return to Eastern Ridge in such overwhelming fashion just as he was feeling pleased with himself, catching him off guard like a nightmare.
"Then we can only live beneath someone else's roof!"
Du Xiang sighed as he spoke, his eyes growing clouded.
"That's still better than all of us being slaughtered! We massacred the Haibei Tribe back then. Would he spare a single member of our tribe?"
Du Lang pushed hard for seeking the Kunling Sect's protection, even if it meant becoming dependents of one of its elders. Only by preserving the tribe would his grandson have a chance to keep growing.
"That little bastard has offended the Kunling Sect beyond reconciliation. They certainly won't let him off either!"
"Fine, that's our only choice..."