The first flush of dawn broke, and golden light bathed the entire Gu Yuan Tribe. After a silent night, the vitality of the tribe was once again rekindled. A group of youngsters, who had just broken into the Bone-Tempering Realm, armored with Qingmu hard bows on their backs and black iron arrow feathers in their arrow baskets, led by the tribal warriors, rushed out of the Gu Yuan Tribe, heading into the dust of the Great Wasteland.
Then, Xiao Chen left the stone tower. A night had unsuspectingly passed and since the last twenty odd days, the tribe once again regained its peace. The tribe people had stepped out of their sorrow, but a suppressed atmosphere still lingered amongst them.
Even with the most important festival of all Human Tribes in the Great Wasteland approaching—the Year Worship Festival—the people of the tribe did not feel the slightest excitement. No one knew what kind of catastrophe the Gu Yuan Tribe would face the next day. The Ghost Tribe was only one amongst them.
