This was the longest night Locke had ever spent since he had transmigrated. If it was not for the monkey wine, he would have ripped the old man's head off and kicked it like a ball.
The next day, when the sky was just beginning to brighten, the little langurs woke up from their sleep and found Locke. They began to make squeaking sounds. All of them panicked behind the leaves as if they had seen some terrifying monster.
"What are they talking about?" Locke was woken up by the langurs and asked Angela beside him.
"They are afraid. These little guys don't have the ability to protect themselves. They can only rely on their natural camouflage ability to survive in this dangerous jungle.
"They are praying that we can release the elders of the tribe. In return, they can agree to any condition of ours."
Angela listened attentively, then translated it for Locke.