"Have you not tried to resist?" Yu Nian's brows furrowed, her tone sharp.

"Resist?" Elder Moto suddenly opened his eyes, and those eyes that might have once been as clear as the sea now held only bottomless sorrow and despair.

"How could we not? In the first two years, the warriors of the tribe secretly organized and launched three... three attempts!"

He held up three trembling, webbed fingers, "The most tragic time was led by the strongest warrior of our tribe at that time, my son Mo Lin... They launched a night attack on the new palace where that group of people lived."

He pointed toward the new building in the village that Bai Cheng had mentioned, his hand dropping weakly.

"The result... total annihilation. Mo Lin... he was hung from the ancient coral tree at the village entrance and exposed to the sun for ten whole days."

The old man's voice became hollow, "Since then, nearly half of the tribe's young and strong have died. The spirit of the remaining people has also... also broken.