Outside White Armor Village, right at the spot where the Beast Tide had erupted half a month ago.
A massive tent had long since been set up.
Fifty meters behind the tent stood twenty Red Stone crossbowmen armed with bows and crossbows, along with thirty Udan Spearmen with painted faces, all standing guard.
Beside them were twenty brown-haired warriors holding black Vine Staffs and wearing fishskin armor. They were the guards of the Black Water Tribe.
It was precisely because Alva had seen those twenty Black Water Tribe guards that he had not acted rashly.
Unlike a few days ago, Alva now bore seven or eight claw marks that had already scabbed over. His unruly long hair was tied behind his head, making him seem even wilder.
These past two days, temporarily taking Isaiah's place in arranging the tribe's battles had also made Alva grow at an astonishing pace.
When enemies met, their eyes burned red with hatred.
"Red Stone Tribe, you still dare to come... Where is that bastard Basham? Tell him to come out and die!" Alva held a shield in his left hand and carried a meteorite-gold battle axe upside down in his right as he strode fiercely toward the massive tent. His eyes were webbed with dark red blood vessels.
In front of the tent, an old man with a long beard and a red cloth robe stood shoulder to shoulder with a middle-aged man wearing black fishskin clothing.
Behind them, seventy burly, powerful White Armor Warriors all glared ahead with hatred.
Yet under Alva's orders, they remained rooted in place and did not take a single step forward.
"Mighty Alva of the White Armor Tribe, Basham made a complete mess of things, so naturally he is no longer fit to appear here. Besides, our Young