Jeff raised his head, looking toward where the leaf had fallen from.
It was a large tree covered in withered leaves. The island's corrosive mist had left it in a state of decline; from a distance, it resembled a dead tree.
The leaf had drifted down from that very tree.
Jeff told Li Luo that most of the old Fishmen in the Fishman Village hadn't made it through. They never woke up again. They didn't see the warm sunlight; their memories were forever frozen in the darkness before the dawn.
The Great Clan Leader was slumped over his favorite table, having fallen into an eternal sleep, just as he used to when he grew tired from reading and took a nap.
The young Fishmen were all right, for the most part. Aside from getting a bit dizzy from time to time, they showed no other adverse effects.
The Fishmen were a resilient bunch, and they didn't see this as an occasion for excessive grief.
They just sat together, discussing the stories of the old Fishmen who had passed.
