However, just as the voice from the canoe ceased, a sharp whistling sound arrived from afar, and a spear suddenly flew from the dense grass, causing the soil to explode four or five meters high upon landing.

The wave of dirt even swept across the river surface.

Two figures narrowly avoided the spear, turned their heads toward the canoe, showing grateful eyes, but firmly shook their heads.

Two figures, one tall and one short, one big and one small.

The older one appeared to be around forty years old, while the younger was just over ten.

These seemed to be a father and son heading to a village for trading.

Each carried a bulging large bag.

They moved as agilely as leopards, quickly diving back into the grass.

"Do you think you can escape?"

A tall, thin figure suddenly leaped seven or eight meters into the air, drawing a parabola of over ten meters before landing heavily.

Boom!

That person pulled out the spear embedded in the soil, glancing sideways at the three canoes stopped in the river.

"Red Stone tribe’s personal vendetta, what, does the Green Leaf Tribe intend to help the White Armor Tribe?"

The sinister voice came closer, the person again jumped high, the spear in hand now aimed at the canoe.

Clearly, he’d heard the voice coming from the canoe.

And at this moment, from the area behind where he’d just stood, the sound of numerous footsteps arose.

Dozens of thin, cold figures simultaneously dashed out of the grass, their cold eyes consecutively gazing at the Green Leaf Tribe’s canoe, with a vicious gleam.

Inside the canoe, a man over two meters tall heard the threat, and with a flash of anger on his face, was about to respond.

However, an elderly person suddenly shouted, "Boluo, shut up!"

The elderly person then stood up and loudly shouted from within the huge canoe towards the riverbank, "We are merely passing by, warriors of the Red Stone tribe."

"Hmph!"

The thin person who had leaped into the air snorted coldly, their eyes swept malevolently over everyone, then with impressive momentum vanished into the grass ahead, their voice still audible from afar, "An enemy’s friend is a sworn foe of my Red Stone tribe!"

"Catch those two White Armor clan worms."

A large group of Red Stone tribe warriors responded loudly, ignoring the Green Leaf tribe on the canoe.

The thundering footsteps receded and within twenty seconds the riverbank returned to tranquility.

The strong man Boluo, just stopped from speaking, glared at the elder, "Why stop me? We’re not subordinates of the Red Stone tribe!"

"Would you have these frail and sickly folks accompany you to their deaths? If the Red Stone tribe cuts off our trade, where would our people get salt to eat?"

The elder’s voice was stern, and the strong man Boluo reluctantly closed his mouth.

The Red Stone tribe was too domineering, to the point where they could casually find a reason to annex small tribes.

As for why the White Armor tribe was targeted... they were naturally aware.

Wasn’t it because a goddess of wisdom and beauty appeared?

Then the son of the Red Stone tribe’s Clan Leader, Izewende, set his eyes on her.

The tyrannical, lecherous young Clan Chief has harmed numerous women, and now he’s targeting the White Armor tribe’s goddess.

It would be a joke if the White Armor tribe agreed.

Isaiah, that lion-like man, is not one to tolerate such indecency!

It’s obvious what would happen when the Red Stone tribe demands someone from the White Armor clan.

But it’s unexpected that the Red Stone tribe has reached this level of shamelessness, it was clearly an attack on the White Armor clan’s buyers just now.

They intend to push them to destruction.

With the enemy in their prime, if the Green Leaf tribe with less population than the White Armor tribe rashly intervened, it would be like handing over their lives.

In this peril-filled grassland, one must never act impulsively in such matters.

"Let’s go! Don’t get involved."

Thus, the three canoes created towering waves again and within three seconds they sped off like arrows on the river.

Under the gray misty sky, the area once again returned to its unique silence.

The fat fish reappeared, greedily munching on water plants without a care.

It’s a daily struggle to survive; living for the moment is the truth.

...

...

"Dad, wheeze wheeze... My throat hurts... My chest feels like it’s about to explode."

The child, who was twice as short, panted heavily as he spoke to the person beside him.

"I-I can’t run anymore."

These two figures were indeed a father and son.

In the faint moonlight, the child’s side profile, covered in sweat, reflected a sturdy, solid physique and dark skin, evidently the little chubby who used to be late for Teacher Wang Nuonuo’s class.

"Enoch, don’t you wish to be a warrior of the tribe? Dad will carry your bag, don’t stop, don’t stop!"

The middle-aged man beside him grabbed the chubby’s bag and hoisted it up, his face showing a fierce determination spurred by desperation.

As a father at this moment, all he could do was lighten his son’s burden in his own way.

He couldn’t discard the large bag he was carrying.

Refined salt is the most precious resource produced by the Red Stone tribe.

Even the strongest person would become weak if they didn’t consume salt.

Moreover, in the surrounding grass, filled with hidden dangers, countless Star Beasts lurked.

White Armor tribe’s battle losses have reached a point where withdrawal is necessary.

For those fresh troops continuing the fight, adequate salt is crucial despite its scarcity.

And the White Armor clan’s hunter, merchant Beardsley, carried the critical task of bringing back essential supplies for the whole clan.

If he acted whimsically, what awaited the tribe might be a disaster of destruction.

"So, we absolutely cannot die, we must not fall behind!"

The middle-aged man Beardsley could only continue to encourage his son.

The family of the White Armor tribe awaited them.

The tribe was blessed by Heaven with the goddess Teacher Wang Nuonuo; she absolutely cannot be tainted by that scoundrel Izewende.

Swoosh!

A sudden sound of something slicing through the air came from behind.

Beardsley swiftly sidestepped, just preparing to glance back when out of the corner of his eye, he saw another silent spear falling towards the chubby.

Instantly Beardsley’s eyes turned red.

This silent spear-throwing could only be done by the Red Stone tribe’s Udan Spearman.

And the typical behavior of a Udan Spearman...

Was never to leave survivors.

The spear aiming at chubby Enoch’s head was such a moment.

In less than a second, if it hit, the chubby’s body would be pierced instantly.

No matter how heavy the double burden was, Beardsley made a faster move at that moment.

He suddenly slammed into the side, catching Enoch off guard and propelling him far away; as he landed, a distinct sound also reached his ears...

Thud!

That was the sound of a sharp spear penetrating a body.

"Go... ah!"

Beardsley spat out a mouthful of blood, grabbing the spear single-handedly... yanking it out.

The middle-aged man sprinted forward with large strides.

Even as his vision blurred more and more, Beardsley never had even a momentary thought of giving up.

Blood loss finally triggered dizziness.

But even so, Beardsley didn’t slow his pace a bit.

"Enoch, if Dad dies... don’t bother to bury me, just keep running, don’t stop."

"Go, cross three more rivers and we’ll be there!"

Beardsley’s face seemed to flash with a glow reminiscent of a dying radiance.