One pot of peanut milk was fundamentally not enough to be divided among so many beastmen.
Everyone only got to taste a little to know the flavor.
The slow-footed beastmen standing at the back who didn't get a share felt deep regret, hating only that their legs weren't as long as others'.
Washing the pot and cleaning up had never required Eric's hands. He had just put the large ladle down when he finally noticed the two Ox-Head tribe beastmen, carrying large and small bags, trying to squeeze in with resentful faces.
"Oh my, we finally got in! It's too crowded, as lively as going to the Spring Market festival." The Ox-Head beastman with the gracefully curved horns complained.
Spring Market? When Eric heard this, his eyes lit up, his heart full of anticipation.
He had heard that races would bring all their tribe's specialties there to trade and sell. Just hearing about it sounded extremely interesting; next year, he definitely had to go see it to broaden his horizons.
