The night on the Beast God Mountain was bitterly cold, but for the orcs who had drunk the Tinder Fruit Potion and were tired of becoming dogs, there was nothing to resist their surging sleepiness.

The orcs who went up the mountain yesterday consciously took on the responsibility of patrolling, so that the clansmen could have a good rest.

"Isn't it going to leave for the territory of the Divine Tree Tree People tomorrow?"

"No, I guess we'll be the first to arrive this time."

"It's not thanks to Ji Nuan's witch doctor, this orc of the Watson tribe is really happy."

"We're not bad, we're all in the Anilu Mountain Forest, and the relationship is so good, you can go to Ji Nuan Witch Doctor at any time in the future!"

The beasts here are immersed in sweet dreams, but the tribes of the other three continents do not have such good luck.

"Patriarch, another winged orc's winged wings have fallen with frostbite, and everyone in the clan is also..." Although the orc's words were not finished, the orcs on the mountain knew very well what the unfinished words were.

Botter's face was gloomy: "How many other winged orcs do we have?" ”

The orc sighed and said, "There are 7 more, but the wings are also damaged to varying degrees, and I don't know how long they can last." ”

When Botel heard this number, his heart throbbed a little, these winged orcs are all valuable treasures in the tribe: "How many orcs are there below?" ”

The orc paused for a moment before saying, "There are about two hundred orcs. ”

Botel gritted his teeth: "Let the winged orcs bring another 50 orcs up, and don't come up with the rest." ”

The orcs were shocked when they heard this: "Patriarch, in this case, our orcs will be much less, which will be very detrimental to our future competition." ”

Botel tugged at the corners of his mouth: "This year's Beast God Mountain is so cold, it's definitely not only on our side, if we can't get up much, do you think there will be more orcs from the tribes of several other continents than us?" ”

The orc patted his forehead in fear, and said flatteringly: "It's still the patriarch who is smart, we stupid beasts can't think of it, hehe." ”

Botel snorted lightly and glanced at him with contempt: "You are staring here, if there is any situation to report to me, I will go and rest for a while." ”

The orc hurriedly nodded and sent the patriarch away.

"Botel doesn't care about the lives of us orcs like the old patriarch." A middle-aged orc next to him sighed.

The orc hurriedly roared: "You shut up for me, Patriarch Botel is an evolved orc who has eaten two beast god fruits, don't pull me if you want to die." ”

The scolded orc could only bow his head and walk to the side, his eyes full of nostalgia for the old patriarch.

Not far away, on the skin cushion lay a few winged orcs, their wings drooping in a blur of flesh and blood, looking pitiful, and moaning in pain from time to time.

After sacrificing three winged orcs again, the Gru tribe finally brought 50 more orcs up the mountain, while two more orcs were lying on the side of the animal skin and groaning in pain, and one fell directly off the cliff and died.

The orcs on the top of the hill didn't have time to mourn the dead people, and immediately began to organize and exchange items, eat dinner, and huddle together in thick animal skins to keep warm.

There are always orcs who wake up from the cold, squeeze around the clansmen next to them, and close their eyes again and fall asleep.