The morning sun rose, its golden rays piercing the clouds and casting a solemn, gilded edge upon Baichuan Plaza.
A dead silence hung over the plaza.
The crisp, cold morning breeze could not stir the rows of bodies in the center of the plaza, each covered by a simple white cloth.
One hundred and thirty-seven in all.
The white cloths seemed particularly stark in the morning light, their edges rippling faintly in the wind, outlining the young, sometimes broken, sometimes whole figures beneath. They were arranged in neat rows, heads facing east.
Around the plaza, a dense, dark crowd of disciples, Stewards, and even some Elders of the Heavenly Gang Wuji Sect had gathered.
Everyone was dressed in plain or dark-colored attire, with black armbands and solemn expressions.
Qin Fang stood at the very front of the disciples who had participated in the battle, also dressed in black with a black armband.
