The epic story of green monsters

Chapter 1283

The sound of reading aloud grew clearer and clearer, and Allen listened intently as if it were heavenly music. Wasn't the living environment that the children of the Green Fields and the North had now the meaning of all his years of dedication and struggle?
Looking back now that he has reached his current level and status, it seems that choosing the tribe instead of the lone wolf path has actually led to his current success.

Without the bonds and encouragement from my tribe and its people, I might not have achieved my current prestige, let alone wield greater power.

"...In the desolate early morning, the first rays of dawn illuminate the earth, and the dewdrops sparkle with clear light..."

The young children recited what Allen considered pointless whining, but since civilized societies like humans and elves held such things in high esteem, there must be something to it, so Allen didn't interfere with the courses compiled by the wise men of the Green Fields.

At this moment, the sound of recitation floated around him, and the surrounding paintings came into view, complementing the children's voices. This touched Allen, who rarely showed his emotions, and made him feel happy.

"what!!"

"kill!!!"

Meanwhile, a powerful shout that suddenly resounded through the sky broke the tranquility once again. The grim atmosphere was also more familiar to Allen. His mental energy was naturally attracted and rippled in the direction of the sound. Then, a picture of hundreds of soldiers performing basic training in unison appeared in his mind.

On each of the children's energetic and innocent faces, beads of sweat streamed down their foreheads, but this did not deter any of them from their determined movements.

The unsharpened weapon stretched straight forward and landed precisely on the vital parts of the human-shaped target in front of it. Although it could not damage the target in the slightest, the powerful force that hit the target caused it to vibrate and hum.

From Allen's perspective, every movement of these children was very standard and concise. Whether it was the application of force techniques or the attack on the target, it was all experience summarized by countless predecessors, which saved these children from many detours when they embarked on the path of warriors.

Although he only glanced at the children's bodies briefly, Allen was still able to roughly discern that many of these young children, who were obviously only 12-15 years old, had already unleashed their potential and advanced to the intermediate level, with the outstanding ones even reaching the peak of the intermediate level, ready to advance to the advanced level at any time.

Hundreds of years ago, mid-level combatants were highly prized talents in the Green Field Tribe, but now they are just ordinary, normal individuals. On the contrary, those combatants who never managed to unleash their potential and advance to the mid-level have become a minority in the tribe, forced to either transition to other life skills or simply become the most common labor force.

Tap tap! Tap tap! Tap tap!
The rhythmic beats resonated with the vibrations from the earth as a neatly arranged cavalry unit galloped back and forth across the spacious training ground, sometimes breaking apart into individual units, and sometimes converging into a sharp arrow.

The warhorse beneath him was magnificent and imposing, a Mundo warhorse that had undergone numerous improvements and was now in its final form. The horse was 2.78 meters tall and nearly 3 meters high at the shoulder. A normally armored goblin riding on it would appear rather short.

Nourished by the rains flowing in from the direction of Fort Fat, the once barren Green Plains have become increasingly lush with vegetation in recent years. As a result, the livestock and warhorses grazing on the Horse Pastures are no longer restricted by the natural environment, and the pastures and grasslands have expanded many times over. Even the dire wolf pack, protected by the Green Plains headquarters, has gradually become less dependent on the Green Plains tribes for sustenance due to the increase in the number of animals roaming the surrounding area, and their numbers have also increased significantly through natural reproduction.

While the Warg riders were not unique to the Greenfield tribe, in terms of the quality of their Wargs and the skill of their cavalry, the Warg rider legions under the Greenfield tribe were undoubtedly among the best of all Warg rider units.

After wandering around several campuses, most of the day had passed. After crossing the campus grounds, we arrived at a patch of newly green fields outside the city.

What was once a desolate and bitter wilderness is now bursting with vibrant life thanks to the nourishment of the source of all things. The hard peach tree, which was fought over by weak tribes on the green plains hundreds of years ago, is now found everywhere in the wilderness, but no longer is it given a second glance by the native inhabitants. Instead, it has become a boon for the other herbivores in the wilderness.

The flesh of the nut tree is sour and fibrous, and the fruit is covered by a hard shell with little flesh that is difficult to obtain. Even with modern magical cooking techniques, it is difficult to make them into delicious food. If it weren't for the severe food scarcity in those days, and the fact that nut trees are easy to preserve due to their high fat content after drying, the natives of the wilderness would not have regarded them as an important food source.

The fields, neat and orderly, are planted with all kinds of crops, including fresh vegetables and wheat and rice that are being grafted and filled with grain. When the breeze blows gently, the lush green plants in the wheat fields and rice paddies create wave after wave of green waves, and the rustling sound of the leaves rubbing together is the sound of these waves of wheat.

"Eek!!!! Shh!!!!"

Clang! ! ! !

As the harvest season approaches, the farmers work even harder, because the grain they have spent half a year cultivating and weeding is being coveted by countless 'thieves' in the wilderness. Whenever a farmer takes a break, thousands of 'thieves' will descend from the sky and the ground and devour the grain that everyone has worked so hard for.

The scarecrows erected in the rice paddies can no longer intimidate those clever little creatures. Although they only have biological instincts, their sharp eyes can still quickly distinguish between real and fake ones.

To protect their crops, farmers had to take matters into their own hands, staying in the fields in small groups to work and drive away the persistent little creatures until nightfall before they could rest.

This seemingly arduous work is the life that many tribes and natives in the wilderness dream of. Without a peaceful environment, arable land, and sufficient water, such abundant crops cannot grow.

Without a lenient tax system, and without hope in life, farmers wouldn't be able to work so diligently, with smiles on their faces and full of energy.

The bear-goblin saint suddenly exerted force with his feet, leaping over a hundred meters high using only his physical strength, and then landed steadily on the tallest tree canopy in the vicinity.

As the setting sun casts its fading light, one can gaze into the distance and see a vast expanse of lush green fields. The heavy ears of wheat hang heavy on the branches, and the waves of wheat swaying in the wind are mesmerizing—a truly beautiful scene.