Yet the words from the canoe had barely faded when a sharp whistling sound came from afar. A spear shot out of the dense grass, blasting mud four or five meters into the air the instant it struck the ground.
The surging wave of dirt even swept across the river's surface.
The two figures narrowly dodged the spear. Hearing the shout, they turned toward the canoes with grateful looks, but shook their heads with unusual resolve.
One was tall and one short, one adult and one child.
The older one looked to be around forty, while the younger was barely over ten.
They seemed to be a father and son who had gone to the trading settlement.
Each carried a bulging sack on his back.
They moved as nimbly as cheetahs and quickly plunged back into the grass.
"Do you two think you can get away?!"
A tall, skinny figure suddenly leaped seven or eight meters into the air. After tracing an arc spanning more than ten meters, he landed heavily.
Boom!
The man yanked the spear out of the mud and shot a sidelong glance at the three canoes stopped in the Great River beside him.
"A private grudge of the Red Stone Tribe. What, does your Cyan Leaf Tribe intend to help the White Armor Tribe?"
His sinister voice drew nearer. The man leaped high again, and the spear in his hand was actually pointed at the canoes in midair.
Clearly, he had heard the voices coming from the canoes earlier.
And at that moment, a mass of footsteps rose from behind where he had just been standing.
Dozens of gaunt, cold-looking figures rushed out of the grass at once. Their icy gazes swept over the Cyan Leaf Tribe's canoes, their eyes filled with viciousness.
A burly man