Barbaric Grassland.
On the boundless grassland, a riverside camp stands resilient, unlike the camp at the foothills of Half Border Mountain, this one doesn't even have basic wooden walls.
It's noon.
Cooking smoke curls above the camp.
A few Demon Clan warriors sitting by the campfire, holding clay bowls in their hands, suddenly feel the water in the bowls ripple. One warrior immediately lies down and listens intently.
"Thirty miles away, several hundred heavy cavalry."
The warrior says and sits up again. A nearby warrior turns his head: "Haha, your dog ears are sharp, but no need to be so alert. We are deep in the heart of the wilderness, how could Ancestor Dragon City's humans appear here? It must be a tribe's forces moving here."
"Hmm, I can feel the ground trembling through my seat. It might be a heavy cavalry troop of a thousand; just no idea which tribe they're from."
