In this valley, because conditions were limited, there were no coffins or anything of the sort to bury all the dead martial artists in. All they had were sleeping bags.
Ever since they had entered this valley, every martial artist who died had been buried in a sleeping bag.
Because they had suffered the Black Shadows' attack last night, many of the dead martial artists had been scattered across the ground. So the people in charge of bagging them had simply pieced the remains together before putting them into the bags. No one cared whether the bodies were complete. In the midst of danger, the living were still waiting for death, and the dead could only be hastily buried. To have a patch of yellow earth cover them was already the greatest dignity they could be given.
Some other martial artists had been arranged by Qian Wantong to come over and dig pits.
The few of them worked in gloomy silence. Only the sounds of digging rose and fell. Martial artists dug burial pits extremely quickly, and in a short time, more than a dozen pits had been dug out.
Everyone worked together to gently place the sleeping bags holding the remains into the pits. Shovel after shovel of yellow earth slowly covered them, burying the lives that had fallen last night completely.
The surviving martial artists stood quietly beside the graves, their expressions solemn, no one speaking. But sorrow weighed in their hearts. No one knew who would die next time.
There were no complicated sacrificial rites, no eulogies or elegies. There was only silence to see them off, wishing that the departed would sleep here forever and no longer encounter Strange Beasts.
The brief memorial ended, and the crowd slowly dispersed.
Chen Mo and the other three followed