At daybreak, Zhao Cheng led the remaining fifty-odd men first to the place where Wu Yuan had made camp. Wu Yuan's group had traveled light, leaving little behind besides simple tents and some food and water.
Among Wu Yuan's leftovers, there was very little clean water, but there was a kind of medicinal powder. Mixed into water from the mountain forests, it could purify the water enough to make it barely drinkable. It simply could not be consumed in excess, or it would harm the body.
In the wilderness, not all water was fit to drink. Much of it looked clear, yet brought all manner of side effects after consumption—poisoning, diarrhea, and the like. That medicinal powder was a byproduct of Daoists refining pills.
Without question, to Zhao Cheng's party, who had nearly reached the end of their rope, Wu Yuan's supplies were a timely relief.
More importantly, after killing the formidable enemy Wu Yuan, although half their side had died, those who survived felt little sorrow. Instead, their morale soared.
On one hand, the survivors would all receive rewards. On the other, this battle had wiped out the Tiger Leopard Cavalry to the last man, undoubtedly giving the remaining Yellow Heaven Army greater confidence and more hope for the future.
As for their comrades-in-arms dying, death was the most common thing in this age. Before the promise of rewards, death was not worth mentioning.
In such troubled times, human lives were as frail as wild grass.
Moreover, the Yellow Heaven Army's veteran soldiers had originally been refugees with no way left to survive. To be killed or to starve to death made little difference to them.
Their reasoning was simple. Following Zhao Cheng, they might die, but they might also win. Winning meant merit and rewards; it meant meat