Su Ming stood at the ruined tribe and looked at the weeping man. He did not get an answer to his question.
That man was Shan Hen. He was crying as he knelt at the center of the tribe. His face was filled with pain, but there was also indecision, regret, and sorrow.
Su Ming was silent. He did not make a move, as if waiting for Shan Hen's answer.
After a long while, through which the cold wind continued blowing across the land and lifting the debris on the ground to turn in circles, Shan Hen stopped crying and slowly stood up before turning and looking at Su Ming.
Those eyes were bloodshot and tired.
Those familiar eyes now seemed like stranger's eyes. This person, whom Su Ming was well acquainted with, was now Dark Mountain Tribe's traitor. If it weren't for him, the number of deaths in the tribe would have definitely not been so devastating.
"You told Black Mountain Tribe the route we would take for our migration."
