"Stand firm, damn it, stand firm for me!"
Gui Zhan belonged to the Strange Ox Clan, his two massive horns made him particularly conspicuous in the crowd.
He listened to the sounds of his subordinates beating and cursing the enslaved People of the Wind Clan, with an expression of enjoyment on his face.
For a full two hours, all the Wind Clan people were gathered in a large square.
Many among them were trembling in fear.
Because they all knew that once they were targeted by Gui Zhan, it spelled disaster and that death was not far away.
Around them, other Myriad Tribes Slaves watched the scene with blank stares, showing almost no reaction.
This sort of thing had happened too many times.
The first time they saw another race being taken away and then disappearing, the Myriad Tribes Slaves might feel anger, sorrow, and a sense of shared fate.
But when it had happened ten times, a hundred times, or a thousand times, they became numb.
