The next morning.
Within Osmanthus Valley, the newly repaired formation barrier glowed faintly blue-green, looking especially sturdy in the Far North's dim dawn.
At the valley entrance, the old patriarch Mu Ku led the entire tribe in kneeling, their figures forming a dark mass across the ground.
There were no thunderous gongs or drums, nor any grief-stricken cries, only an almost religious solemnity and silence.
Every tribesperson bowed their head deep into the dirt, offering their final respect in this most primal fashion to the benefactor who had turned the tide on the brink of disaster.
The saintess Mu Ling knelt at the very front, holding up a brand-new blue-green cloak woven from the sacred tree's fallen leaves.
"Benefactor, your journey north will be long. This cloak was formed from the sacred tree's leaf veins. Though it offers little protection, it can conceal your life force and hide you from the savage beasts on the Blood Plains that sense only blood and qi."
The girl's voice was clear, but carried a trace of trembling.
She dared not look up at that purple-gold figure, afraid the reluctance in her eyes might offend the mighty warrior's dignity.
Chu Bai accepted the cloak. It felt slightly cool and weighed almost nothing.
With a casual shake, he draped it over his shoulders. It instantly concealed every trace of his fierce purple-gold blood qi, making him seem like an unremarkable piece of deadwood.
"Thoughtful of you."
Chu Bai nodded slightly, then looked past the kneeling crowd toward Fang Mu.
"Osmanthus Valley has only just been secured. Everything needs rebuilding. Deacon Fang, remain here and assist the old patriarch in restoring the great formation. Protect this spark of life."
Fang Mu's expression grew solemn. He cupped his fists and accepted the command. "I shall obey your