Man Zhuang walked into the hold.
It had been transformed into a temporary prison, detaining many people.
Upon seeing Man Zhuang appear, these people immediately became restless, rushing to the sides of their cages.
Man Zhuang, dragging a coarse burlap sack, now reached into the bag and pulled out dried chunks of meat.
He tossed these chunks of meat into the cages through the gaps in the bars, and the prisoners scrambled to snatch them up in an instant.
"Give me some, please give me a piece of meat."
"I've been starving for a week, if I don't eat, I'll die."
"Then die." Man Zhuang's expression was indifferent, "Those who can't even fight for food don't deserve to be slaves of my Barbarian tribe."
The Barbarian tribe thrived in the harsh environment of the Frost Continent, venerating bravery and resilience. In their demanding struggle for existence, they inherently believed in the creed of survival of the fittest, the weak perishing.
