Meng Tai was wrapped in thick beast skins, and on his head, he had crafted a helmet that left only a small slit for his eyes. He had used the method taught by the Watson Tribe.
Seeing the anxious looks of his father and the other tribe members, Meng Tai took off the protective gear from his head with a pale face: "There are too many, father, too many. If this keeps up, we won't be able to hold out for long. Our tribesmen can't go hunting. Wearing beast skins and these helmets greatly hamper hunting."
Meng Zhuo's eyes were bloodshot as he growled, "Damned Nacha Tribe, damned!"
Thinking of the Nacha Tribe, which had always had a decent relationship with his own tribe, Meng Zhuo's heart was filled with hatred.
Not long after returning from the trade fair, Nakula came to the Monte Tribe with his cub, Namila...
At this time, Chief Meng Zhuo was thinking back to what happened that day.
