The harvest season always passes quickly, and the orcs at the Watson Tribe base have begun mass hunting. The orcs of the old Tribe are quite calm, but the slave beasts of the Crow Tribe are rather worried.
The environnt in the desert is too harsh. When they were in the forest, during the cold season they could still go out to hunt, but here, not even birds or beasts leave droppings. Without food, they’re afraid they will die here. Ordinary orcs can’t even eat enough, let alone these slave beasts.
Suddenly, a deadened atmosphere started to spread among the slave beasts.
Although there’s still half a month until the cold season, the temperature in the desert remains distinct, with the blazing sun hanging high in the sky, embracing the desert with all its passion. Words can’t describe the heat.
Originally, the orcs were all clean and handso, but now they’ve turned into black charcoal heads. Yet, the orcs enjoy this change, even competing during evening als, with Xiu Yan and Ya Li occasionally joining in.
The atmosphere within the Hunting Team felt off, and Bosson stopped in his tracks, looking back at the orcs behind him.
One-third of the orcs in his Hunting Team are slave beasts from the Crow Tribe, the rest are orcs from his Tribe.
The off-putting mood was coming from these slave beasts.
Such negativity greatly affects his enthusiasm for hunting. He suddenly sat down on the sand, his face stern, looking at the lifeless, drooping slave beasts.
"Co on, tell , what’s going on with you now? If you don’t hunt properly, are you planning to starve during the cold season?"
The slave beasts looked at each other, occasionally glancing at Bosson, their lips sotis moving but saying nothing.
"Speak up if you have sothing to say. If your current state causes to lose the hunting to other teams, there will be no evening al for you today."
When it cos to food, the slave beasts felt even more downhearted. A slave beast of an evolved orc stepped out from the team: "Anyway, there won’t be enough food for us during the cold season. What’s the difference between dying early or late?"
Hearing this, Bosson picked up a small stone beside him and tossed it at the orc’s head.
The orc could feel the stone flying towards him, but he was a slave beast, he dared not dodge and could only stand there and endure it.
However, the force of the stone was so small it could be ignored, it was rely a tickle for an evolved orc like him.
"Who told you the food wouldn’t be enough?"
The evolved orc looked up at Bosson: "Every ti we hunt now we go far away, especially during the cold season, and the prey here won’t co out during the cold season either. The Tribe’s food will definitely be given to you first, and they surely won’t care if we live or die."
The more the orc spoke, the more agitated he beca, as if he could already foresee his own death.
The mood of the surrounding slave beasts also began to fluctuate.
Bosson looked at him: "Who told you there wouldn’t be enough food in the cold season? Who told you there wouldn’t be prey in the desert during the cold season?"
The evolved orc glanced at him: "It was said by the orcs from the Tribe that ca last ti. We heard them say that each cold season, many, many orcs die in the desert."
Bosson almost laughed out of anger at these fools: "Can they even compare to our Watson Tribe?"
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