No one questioned them at the city gate. The guards at the entrance looked astonished as they watched the group of eleven. "They're the last team to return recently, aren't they?" one guard said to another in an awed tone, a trace of envy flashing through his eyes.
"They all look uninjured. Surviving an attack by a beast tide is no small feat." The other guard nodded, his gaze sweeping over the group, especially the young people in mage robes, whom he regarded with admiration.
"They're not all mages. There's only one official mage—the one sitting down. The rest are magic apprentices," the first guard added, pointing at the wheelchair floating in the air. "Did you notice that floating chair?"
"I didn't." The other guard turned to look, but Nicholas was seated at the front and blocked by the others, so he could not make out the wheelchair clearly. He shook his head slightly. "It's probably some new kind of magic item."
The conversation at the gate did not draw much attention. But when Ang and the others stepped onto the familiar streets, the sight before them weighed heavily on their hearts. Pedestrians hurried past on both sides of the street, their expressions grim, as though everyone were fighting for their own fate. Ang occasionally spotted people in tattered clothes huddled in corners, helplessness and despair written across their faces. They were clearly not vagrants, but survivors who had escaped from Rainforest Camp.
When they arrived at the inn where they had originally stayed, they learned that the beast tide had been far worse than they had imagined. It had come too suddenly, catching everyone in the camps unprepared. In particular, the battle between the Mountain Giant and the Thick-Scaled Dragon had dealt a devastating blow to the camps. The