Bosson nodded with a smile, then looked toward the elder riding on the back of a tall Tiger Orc, "Shaman."
The old orc studied the figure before him, a being who had vanished from mory long ago, filled with emotion.
A smile spread across his aged face, "I really never thought I would live to see you again, youngster Bosson."
Bosson smiled at Shaman Ji Nuan, "Exactly as you say, Shaman, here I am right before your eyes, am I not?"
Having said that, he spread out his arms, "This is the Shaman’s first visit to our Tribe, why don’t you co sit at my house first?"
Bowman looked back at the old Shaman with an expression full of anticipation.
The old Shaman sighed, "Let’s go."
If the old Shaman had felt shocked outside the city walls, now he didn’t even know how to describe his feelings.
The tidy little paths of the Tribe, the beautifully dressed Tribe mbers, and the dwelling places of the orcs.
Shaman Ji Nuan always considered himself to be extrely powerful among his peers because of his intelligence, which was why the Gru Tribe had beco the strongest on the Beast World Continent.
Of course, the Gru Tribe had now left their generations-old ho in the Mountain Forest because of his one wrong decision.
Watching Bosson leading the way, a trace of regret surfaced in the eyes of the old Shaman.
Had Bosson been the Clan Leader, perhaps the fate of Gru Tribe wouldn’t have ended this way.
"We’ve arrived," announced the orc, interrupting his thoughts.
The old Shaman lifted his head to look at the place before him, crafted from beautifully lustrous green stones, calling up a trace of respect for Shaman Ji Nuan, whom he had never t.
With Hei Tu’s support, the old Shaman entered Bosson’s ho.
The courtyard was neat. In the center was a pathway paved with stone slabs, bordered on both sides by irregularly shaped wooden sticks, enclosing wild vegetables, a variety of small fruits, and pretty flowers.
Close to the house was a simple pavilion, beneath which stood a stone table and several stone stools.
One could tell at a glance that an orc with a keen eye had taken great care of the courtyard; it was extrely exquisite.
It was still quite cold in the early morning. Bosson led the Shaman and others to the guests’ room on the side.
He skillfully ignited the kang, a type of traditional heated bed.
The old Shaman sat on this strange platform, failing to understand why the Watson Tribe orcs wasted ti building such a useless object—just to sit on it?
Wasn’t a Beast Skin mat fragrant enough?
Bosson, on the other hand, brought from the kitchen a basket of bread and a pot of purple fruit porridge, along with two large basins of stir-fried at, which he had specially prepared upon waking up that day.
Not only did he want to properly entertain his forr tribesn, but he also simply wanted to show them that he was living much better now, far better than before.
The food on the table emitted a tantalizing aroma that made the orcs from Gru Tribe feel their mouths, dry from travel, quickly fill with saliva.
"Gulp," "gulp," the sound of swallowing saliva could hardly be louder.
Bosson took out the bread from the basket and distributed it to them, "Eat up, these are still hot. They won’t taste as good once they cool down."
After speaking, he served a bowl of steaming hot purple fruit porridge to the old Shaman, "Please try this. It’s the favorite food of Shamans and elderly orcs in the Tribe who don’t have good teeth."
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