Chen Shouyi stayed at the military command headquarters a little longer, briefed them on the specific situation, then quickly returned to Zhonghai.
As soon as he got home, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep.
The Flame God's fall had dealt the barbarians a blow far worse than the collapse of their faith.
Not long after the Flame God's fall, the Faith Domain that had enveloped them gradually dissipated, and the bitter cold of winter once again swept through every tribe.
For thousands, even tens of thousands, of years, these barbarians had grown accustomed to warm winters under the protection of the Faith Domain.
Their resistance to cold was not only far weaker than that of ordinary barbarians, they also lacked experience in dealing with it.
When the Faith Domain crumbled, disaster struck.
In a former tribe of the Flame God.
Wails rose and fell throughout the tribe. Every barbarian was consumed by grief. To them, the Flame God's fall was like the sky itself collapsing.
Of course, to believers, the Flame God was the sky.
The tribe's chief sat helplessly on the ground, staring at the bodies strewn everywhere. The terrifyingly strong man seemed to have had all his spirit drained away. He was like a two-hundred-pound child who had just been abandoned by his parents, his gaze bewildered and lost, a strange sadness welling in his heart.
The cold wind howled, and the temperature had already begun to slowly drop.
"Chief, think of something, quick!" A short, stocky barbarian tugged at the dazed chief and shouted.
The chief raised his head blankly. "What is it?"
He still seemed completely oblivious.
"The Sacred Domain can't keep the cold out anymore. If this goes on, our people will freeze to death!" the stocky barbarian said anxiously. How could this be