Si Shuo clung to Xu Chi, secretly following the elders to continue watching the drama unfold.
They arrived at a treehouse formed from a nearly thousand-year-old banyan tree in the center of the clan's territory.
The sky had grown dim. The eight elders, Wei Cang, and Yin Jiang sat around a bonfire in a stone pit. The flickering flames cast their shadows onto the tree's inner walls, which danced and postured menacingly along with the howling wind outside, creating a grim and terrifying atmosphere.
"Wei Cang, explain to us just what is going on!" The Great Elder's face was livid with anger. He slapped his thigh and demanded through gritted teeth. "Every time our clansmen risk their lives to hunt, they turn over half their spoils for the clan to distribute. So how is it that in past years, when we needed to provide relief, the dried meat and fruit left in the clan warehouse were pitifully scarce? Yet this year, there's this much in stock?"
