Half an hour later, Xiao Chen was wandering through the tribe. He found it hard to face those who had lost their children, husbands, and fathers. Their sobbing was deafeningly piercing. Such was the gap between life and death. Only those who have truly experienced it could understand the pain.
The arrangement of the many tribal soldiers and the accounting of the battle resources were all handled by the Grand Elder and others of the Tribe. Xiao Chen returned to the Stone Tower, pushed open the stone gate, took a deep breath, and stepped in.
The current Xiao Chen was more composed than when he first set foot on this continent, and had lost a bit of his former confusion. The savagery of the Great Wasteland had made him more understanding of the real meaning of survival, something the age of technology in his previous life could not give him.
