The night envelops the Axe-Fragmented Highlands, a cold wind blows into the camp from the mountain hollow, swirling the ashes of dying flames.
In the center of the camp, the tall pole bearing the "Angry Flower" flag flutters fiercely in the wind, the blood-red and black patterns resemble the eyes of a fierce beast, making one dare not look directly at it.
Barbarian elder Olten stands on a high slope, draped in a heavy horned hide cloak, overlooking the entire encampment.
On the edge of the camp. Another circle of chaotic silhouettes gather, within the flickering firelight, the flash of knives appears suddenly.
It's the young men of the Redstone Tribe, fighting again in the middle of the night.
Punches, kicks, biting, roaring furiously, utterly devoid of clan rules, like a pack of wild dogs ignited by gunpowder.
In the past few months, it's become countless times, and more often than not it ends in death, yet strangely no one stops it, as if tacitly approved.
