He thought about that teardrop.
Filled with melancholy, he walked through the outpost until he was nearing its far edge. It was at this point that he suddenly stopped in place and looked up. For the first time in more than a hundred years… a tremor of anger ran through his body.
Up ahead of him, hanging from a rack… were more than fifty people.
More than fifty people. Many were gasping and on the verge of death. Half, though, were actually dead. Their corpses hung there, exposed to the elements, surrounded by an aura of death.
Their bodies were covered with scars and bruises. It was impossible to say how much torment they had endured. Those who hadn’t died wore vacant expressions, as if they were looking at something far, far away.
None of them emitted any wails or screams. All of them maintained silence.
One of the people was an old woman. Her face was wrinkled, her body withered and covered with lash marks, her hair pure white. She was clearly in very sore straits. However, if you looked closely, you could tell that when this woman had been young, she had been beautiful.
She gazed off into the distance, her eyes filled with despair. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. However, her heart clearly burned with an ever burning life force. It was as if her heart raged with incredible hatred.
A roaring sound filled Meng Hao’s mind, and an intense, unprecedented coldness filled his face, the likes of which hadn’t appeared for more than a hundred years. Even when facing the Black Bat, Meng Hao’s fury was nothing compared to the feeling he was experiencing now.
His body trembled as his rage began to reach a pinnacle, a place where he could not control it. Coldness began to radiate off him in pulses. Ice appeared on the wooden planks beneath his feet, and enormous waves began to roll across the surface of the Violet Sea outside the outpost.
His brain suddenly filled with memories of the past.
“Senior, this is my older sister, Wu Ling.”
“If you dare to deceive my little brother, then I won’t rest until you’re dead!”
“Senior, I, Wu Ling, am willing to do anything for my younger brother, anything! I can even be your….” The echoing voice in his mind seemed to transform into the old woman in front of him.
She had once been nothing but a young girl. The passage of time, however, had transformed her beauty into ancientness.
Meng Hao was just barely able to recognize this old woman as none other than… Wu Ling!
As for the other people who were hanging on the racks, Meng Hao recognized four or five of them. They were none other than… members of the Golden Crow Tribe!