The open space was filled with tribe people, all of them silent and steeped in sadness, their gazes fixed on the raging flames until they eventually died out. The ashes that were collected were just a tiny clump, mixed with the burnt-out, dead wood. The ashes of thirty brave warriors didn't even fill up a green stone jar the size of a person's head.
The green stone jars were then held in the hands of their bereaved family members, their eyes hollow as if they couldn't believe this was reality, tightly clutching the green stone jars.
The Ghost Tribe had managed to escape his radar and slaughter thirty warriors from his tribe unnoticed. This suggested that they were indeed formidable, and Xiao Chen had a premonition that their arrival at the Gu Yuan Tribe was no accident.
"Blood Brother, I believe there's no one in the tribe who knows the Ghost Tribe better than you! What do you think about last night's incident?"
