In the vast grassland, there were three simple tents erected.
Two elders dressed in plain robes stood outside the tent, their faces grim and solemn.
Opposite them stood a group of at least a dozen tall foreigners, exuding an imposing aura.
"Old fools, if you know what's good for you, scram," one of them said.
"This place isn't for you to have, only our Trastamara family is worthy."
The leader, a young man in his early thirties with long golden hair billowing in the sea breeze, spoke with an air of arrogance.
In the face of the young man's aggressive pressure, the two elders simply said in an even tone, "If you don't want to die, then get lost."
A glint of murderous intent flickered in the young man's eyes as he raised an eyebrow and said, "Old man, are you sure you're talking to me? Do you have any idea who I am?"
"What a nuisance, Tinghai, you deal with it, I'll go check on the cliff," the elder on the left waved his hand impatiently.
