Dusk was falling. After several days of dusty, travel-worn trekking, the Tiger Clan Tribe was finally in sight.
The journey had been anything but peaceful. They had weathered several scattered attacks and rescued numerous Beastmen who had been left homeless after their tribes were destroyed.
Their party was now considerably larger than when they had first set out. The Beastmen behind Bai Wanwan, their faces etched with exhaustion, gazed at the massive tribal settlement ahead. As survivors, their hearts began to fill with hope for a new life.
Chou Rong had already received word of their arrival. His tall figure stood before the tribe's main gate, as steady and immovable as a mountain.
His gaze cut through the crowd, locking precisely onto the one figure that had consumed his thoughts.
Bai Wanwan spotted him at once. The weariness from her long journey seemed to melt away in an instant. Her steps lightened, and she all but ran to him.
