After Deep Winter came spring, with warmth and flowers in bloom.
Once the planting season began, every tribe entered the busiest period of the year.
As a result, fewer and fewer people went treasure hunting in the Flame Fist Deep Pit.
After thinking it over, Su Mo simply summoned the tribe members scattered among the various tribes and had them return. They moved into a cave near the Flame Fist Territory and settled down as best they could.
Their food was almost gone. Everyone had only seven days of rations left.
The tribe had been destroyed, and the treasure-hunting pits dug out one after another from the former site looked like the work of a natural disaster.
Standing above the deep pit of the Flame Fist Tribe, Tang Ma stared blankly for a long while, unable to recover.
"High Priest?"
"I-I'm fine."
"Good. If you're uncomfortable, let it out. No one will blame you."
Su Mo patted Tang Ma on the shoulder. Then he heard the old priest sniff hard and slightly raise his head, as if trying to hide something.
As a player who had joined halfway through, he had no particular feelings for the Flame Fist Tribe. At most, he missed the soft straw bed in the chieftain's shelter.
Tang Ma was different. He had stayed in the Flame Fist Tribe for eight whole years and had long since come to regard this place as his second home.
Many people in the Tian Yuan Territory should have been able to sympathize with that feeling.
Many had joined the territory only one or two years ago, yet it felt as though half a lifetime had passed.
Making them leave again would be ten times more painful than when they first crossed over into the Wasteland.
Before long.
Tang Ma