"Reaching out to the space residents? Chief Xiong, you are playing with fire!"
Yan Zhengdong, chief of the Burning Sun Tribe, smashed the giant desk with a bam sound, leaving a clear indent of his fist in the black wood that was as solid as iron. He rose up suddenly and glared at Xiong Wuji.
The chief of the Giant Axe Tribe and that of the Feathered Snakes Tribe, as well as the elders of those tribes, all frowned.
Behind them were the young experts of the three tribes who had been invited to the meeting because of their excellent performance in the battle of the apocalypse.
The young warriors were not as courteous as those sitting at the front. Some of them, in fear of Xiong Wuji's toughness, were merely whispering to each other in complaint. But the more irrational and disobedient guys were simply shouting.
"Xiong Wuji is mad!"
That was what happened in the meeting of the six tribes.
