Ji Xinghuo stood on a hillside, within the refraction zone, gazing ahead at a Highlander Tribe nestled among the mountains.
"Late again!"
He scratched his thick beard, his face weary and filled with helplessness.
Three days earlier, the communicator had received a message from the chieftain of Han Qiu, saying that two Highlander Tribes had erupted in war. He had traveled day and night at the fastest speed, but when he arrived, he found that the war had already ended.
And, it was the second time.
The last time, ten days ago, when Ji Xinghuo had arrived, he only saw the victorious side tidying up the battlefield, burning the corpses of their enemies.
Missing the war twice in a row made him realize a problem.
The Bloody Plateau was too vast.
Communication was also very slow; even though the chieftain of Han Qiu sent the message immediately, it had been delayed by many days before the chieftain himself had received it.
