Black Lion Tribe.
Within a small courtyard.
Two elderly men in black sat facing each other.
Outside the courtyard, a group of teenagers, with bodies exposed, were training in the snow.
Though they were all young, around twelve or thirteen, and their small faces were flushed with cold, not one of them complained, their expressions resolute.
"Ever since the leader and the High Priest were killed, our Black Lion Tribe has not been what it once was, but hope is not yet extinguished."
"Indeed."
"These children are our hope."
"It's just a pity that Qin Feiyang's band of beasts plundered our treasure vault, otherwise with our resources, these children wouldn't have to endure such hardship."
Looking at those teenagers, the two elderly men in black felt gratified, yet their eyes held an indelible hatred.
This hatred was naturally directed at Qin Feiyang and his group.
"One must endure the bitter to be superior, haven't you heard this saying?"
But just then.
