As one of the main subjects of the gossip, Teng Qian's ears twitched. He turned his back to continue airing out his little shorts, firmly adhering to the grand principle that if he wasn't embarrassed, then other people were. His face was so thick-skinned it wouldn't crack for a hundred years.
Even Teng Kun, who had just come back from enjoying the gossip, couldn't help but admire his big brother's mastery of the art, marveling at it.
After eating, Wu Yue, Yuan Lang, and their party of Beastman Warriors set out for the Snow Tiger Tribe once again.
Meanwhile, far beyond the Polar Forest, a party of several thousand people was resting at the foot of an earthen slope on the vast grassland.
"Old Eagle, have some water."
The Snow Tiger Witch handed the bamboo canister to the Flying Eagle Witch beside him, whose lips were just as chapped. His own voice was hoarse.
