After half a day of chaos, most of the people in and around Black Mountain Camp were either dead or captured. Very few managed to escape.
Under the shimmering moonlight, the camp lay in ruins—walls toppled, houses collapsed, desolately silent.
On a wooden house near the cliff, two distorted shadows were cast, wavering up and down like phantoms.
They were the shadows of Tang Wen and the White Tiger, cast from high above.
Hu Qi stretched lazily. "Are you sure you want me to handle this? There might be nothing left of this place when I'm done."
Tang Wen, sitting on the tiger's back, replied, "Who knows how many innocent souls are buried in Black Mountain Camp. There are bound to be countless traps in the bunkers below. I wouldn't be able to live here with any peace of mind."
