Creating a Miracle

"Uncle Qing Ying, thank you!"

Though he knew it was only consolation, Qing Ming fell silent for a moment, then smiled and nodded before raising his longbow again.

This time, he did not nock an arrow. He simply drew the bow.

Again and again, he pulled the longbow taut.

Though his gray-white eyes held no light, his still-youthful face was filled with determination.

Not until the sun had set and everyone had dispersed did Qing Ming drag his weary body slowly toward home.

He walked very slowly.

Even though he knew the village well, even though he had walked this road countless times, he still moved with great care.

After all... he could not afford to be injured again.

On the Southern Wasteland, survival was extremely difficult for humanity.

Even in a tribe like the Qing Yi Tribe, which produced abundant medicines, healing remedies were exceedingly precious. They could be traded for all manner of supplies for the tribe.

No one would waste precious healing medicine on a cripple.

It was cruel, but that was the law of survival in the Southern Wasteland. In this place where war and death could descend at any moment, surviving was simply that hard.

"If my eyes could recover, if only..."

Qing Ming clenched his fists tightly and let out a long breath.

He, too, had dreamed of roaming the great wilderness. He, too, had possessed the ambition to sweep across the world. Yet after he had gone blind, all of that had become nothing but fantasy.

"There's no way I'll get a chance at the Ancestral Spirit Grand Sacrifice!"

Shaking his head slightly, Qing Ming knew how important the Ancestral Spirit Grand Sacrifice was to a tribe. Countless offerings were made to increase the tribe's strength and allow it to survive in the