In the early morning on the next day.
Everyone was starting to leave the mountain.
Chu Yang was beaming with joy and smugly bidding farewell to his brothers. Everyone was patting each other on the shoulders and exchanging jokes and blissful conversation.
Everyone gradually disappeared beyond the horizon.
Heaven and earth returned to silence and stillness.
There wasn't single drop of blood that remained beside the Lake of Death, and it was just so clean.
Snow began to flutter down from the skies.
Chu Yang had a faint smile on his face as he walked back calmly.
There was only one tent left. His brothers worked together before they left and helped him tie his tent down securely, and half of his tent was buried in the world of ice and snow.
A tent like this could only be worn down by the wind, but it wouldn't be blown away.