With all four gate masters of the Rakshasa wiped out, the organization's destruction was only a matter of time. More importantly, the threat to the safety of all Huaxia had vanished along with them.
The members of the Ancient Dragon Clan began to celebrate, but their laughter sounded bleak and sorrowful.
Long'er lay beside Long Aotian's body, sobbing in anguish. The Spirit Tortoise had also fulfilled its final duty, keeping Python safe. With an almost human understanding, it lay down beside Long Aotian's body and slowly followed its master into death.
Though they had narrowly won the battle, the wounds inflicted on the Ancient Dragon Clan were devastating.
Their patriarch was dead. Of the eight Elders, four were dead, two were seriously injured, and two had minor injuries. Less than a tenth of the clan's ordinary members remained.
The scattered remnants of the Rakshasa's defeated forces slowly began to emerge on the ravaged mountaintop.
Looking at these beaten strays, Long Xiaotian's eyes filled with rage. Even his guardian spirit beast, White Tiger, began to roar in fury.
Chen Hao had deeply mixed feelings about these people.
Were they evil? Not exactly. Many had been abducted by the Rakshasa and had no choice.
But could they really be called innocent? They had helped the Rakshasa slaughter so many members of the Ancient Dragon Clan. Every one of them had blood on their hands.
These people knew the weight of their sins, too. They stood on the mountaintop, not daring to approach.
As time passed, their numbers kept growing. The dozen or so who had appeared at first soon became several hundred, and more were still arriving.
Wang Jian stepped forward and asked, "Hao, there are more and more of them. What should we do?"
Chen Hao gave a cold laugh. "What