GURGLE... GURGLE... The sounds echoed from outside the Deep Sea Temple.
Then, one by one, Fishmen passed through the entrance and into the Sea Temple, forming a single line.
The Fishman Leader said something, which Pura translated. "He says these are all the able-bodied members of the Sacrificial Race left in the Fishman Tribe."
Qin Ziwen looked at the Fishmen lined up at the entrance. He counted them from left to right. 'One, two, three, four... five?'
A little one squeezed out from the very back of the line.
Among the towering Sacrificial Race Fishmen, it looked completely out of place, like a tender yellow bamboo shoot sprouting from the earth.
Unlike its four clansmen in front—who were burly and tall, with well-developed pecs, broad shoulders, narrow waists, and chests like planks of wood—the last Sacrificial Race Fishman looked to be less than five feet tall.
But it puffed out its chest the proudest, and its pale-yellow skin made it stand out.
