After the Burial Thunder Ghost King fell, the black-and-red thunderclouds that had shrouded Scarlet Cloud Mountain for days finally began to disperse.
Sunlight tore through the heavy clouds bit by bit. Deprived of their source of power, the lingering Heaven-Burying Thunder among the mountains died out one after another. The Thunder Corpses awakened by the Ghost King also collapsed, their charred remains rapidly crumbling in the mountain wind into scattered ashes.
The churning crimson mist gradually thinned.
Sunlight passed through the broken clouds and spilled across the devastated forests. Scorched ancient trees, collapsed peaks, and mangled corpses strewn everywhere were all washed in a faint golden glow.
Bathed in daylight they had not seen for so long, everyone felt momentarily dazed.
Someone raised a hand and stared blankly at the sunlight falling into their palm, as though only now realizing they had actually survived three successive Ghost Tides.
Dragging his battered body, Zhang Zhen walked over to the Burial Thunder Ghost King's remains.
Only after a careful examination did his tense shoulders finally relax.
"It's over."
Zhang Zhen's voice was not loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.
"The Burial Thunder Ghost King has been slain."
After a brief silence, irrepressible cheers erupted through the valley.
Some threw back their heads and laughed, only for their eyes to redden as they laughed. Some simply collapsed beside the heaps of corpses, without even the strength to lift their arms. Others stumbled toward the battlefield, searching for companions they had been separated from.
The survivors supported one another.
Those who had not survived would lie forever in this charred mountain forest.
A young martial artist knelt beside his companion's corpse, his hands repeatedly wiping the blood from the dead man's face.
"Get up."
"The Ghost King is dead. We can go home..."