Then he stepped into a tent on the side, stroked a small, pitch-black package. In his eyes, there was a fanatical light. "As long as I'm the Serra Tribe's shaman, none of you little ones are going to take my place. I am the greatest shaman of the Serra Tribe."
The pitch-black bundle seemed to move around, as if it were a living thing responding to the old shaman's words.
The smile on the old shaman's face became more sinister.
The orc's efficiency was impressive. Hardly had Ji Nuan finished her lunch than a brand new, spacious tent was erected. In order to make Ji Nuan comfortable, the Shaman Disciple even had the orcs lay a layer of polished wooden boards on the ground, just like in Ji Nuan's tent in the Monte Tribe. The females around them stared enviously, their eyes turning red. The way they looked at Ji Nuan was as if they wanted to kill her.
