The East Bridge won, but it was a tragic victory.
Over several thousand people died in this battle.
This is not a time for celebration; too many corpses are strewn across the corners of East Bridge. The urgent task now is to handle these bodies swiftly, for once they start to decay, they could trigger a massive plague. Given the current state of medical facilities, a plague would spell disaster.
Countless bodies are piled together by survivors, while some weary professionals stand by, ready to use their powers to reduce these seeds of disaster to ashes.
This is no easy task, particularly because among these soon-to-be-burned bodies may lie your comrades and family. Some practitioners, unable to bear such pressure, cry out in anguish, yet they must grit their teeth and persevere, for this is both their mission and responsibility.
Much work remains.
Those lucky enough to survive look at the piles of bodies with dry tears; they had no time to properly say goodbye to their loved ones before the bodies turned into a mound of earth.
......
Watching each report, Feng Zhiyong felt an intense pain overcome him.
"Tell me, is the final death toll calculated yet?" Feng Zhiyong, tirelessly managing affairs, knew he must understand how many perished in this battle.
"Hmm... the estimates have already been compiled by the investigation team, and we've collected the name lists..."
"I just want the number of deaths."
"Death toll?" Han Qiang, exhausted, paused for a moment, then with a complex look, he said:
"1,630 deaths, 309 missing; in the south, some trampling incidents occurred, leading to more than 207 casualties..."
Feng Zhiyong remained silent. This was not a flood or mudslide; clearly, the missing people were pitiful souls devoured by the Demon.
Broken bones made it impossible to identify bodies.
The only solace was that Feng Zhiyong had prepared beforehand; small-scale chaos was swiftly curbed before it could escalate.
Moreover.
Zhou Xian is dead.
This truly pained Feng Zhiyong. Despite Hong Jiuling's menacing presence, Zhou Xian helped him maintain his colonel position.
Zhou Xian was a cornerstone of the main battle faction, not to mention, this elder was not only highly skilled but adept at worldly matters, often advising Feng Zhiyong.
But now, with Zhou Xian's death, Feng Zhiyong truly felt he had lost an arm, deepening his sorrow to the utmost.
This is the apocalypse—danger lurks always, no matter who you once were—a legendary figure cannot evade fate's arrangements...
The whole street, battlefield, and even the bustling downtown, lay in devastation, like a hellish wasteland.
The road surfaces bore remnants of the Devil, broken bones, fine bone dust, putrid meat, blackened viscera, trampled flesh, and wilted Hell Flowers...
The Devil's corpses spread crosswise over the streets like trash, while freshly dead human bodies and bones mixed among them, presenting stark contrast...
Seeing former compatriots, former comrades meet such an end, the already despondent survivors felt even more helpless, either responding with silence, quiet sobs, or hysterical laughter, venting their inner anguish and sorrow in various ways...
...........................
Post-disaster, soothing public sentiment and reconstruction take precedence.
Though deeply grieving, Feng Zhiyong knew he had to stabilize the situation.
Moreover, the upper echelons of the conservative faction were nearly all gone, signalling that the subordinate members had become fragmented; yet, even more, it called for calm handling.
Should any mutiny arise, East Bridge could face total destruction.
From ancient times, rebellion hinted at regime change; East Bridge had painstakingly eradicated the tumor, and Feng Zhiyong wished to avoid another meaningless battle.
A policy of appeasement.
At any rate, first stabilize the conservatives, then make other decisions later.
Despite the Devil's arrival, leaving East Bridge in ruins, taking many familiar faces, undeniably, East Bridge continued to stand firm.
Even more so, ordinary people in such desperate circumstances broke through their limits and successfully awakened, becoming professionals.
It was an unexpected boon, allowing East Bridge to recover some Primordial Energy.
The living became heroes, but the dead deserved remembrance too, thus Feng Zhiyong established a hero shrine on East Bridge street through dialogue with his subordinates, commemorating those warriors who heroically sacrificed for East Bridge!
......
Xu Hongzhuang was crying.
Before her lay a corpse, covered with a white cloth. Receiving such treatment in a chaotic environment meant the individual was far from ordinary.
Zhou Xian's remains.
The strongest who fell from the main battle faction in this fight.
Xu Hongzhuang felt some guilt; though she sensed issues, under Chen Feng's threat, she voiced nothing. Perhaps... had she been braver earlier, the kind old man might have survived.
Guilt outweighed sorrow.
Xu Hongzhuang and Zhou Xian shared little age-wise, not forming an intergenerational friendship, but rather a colleague-warrior bond.
But Xu Hongzhuang still cried.
She was blaming herself for her silence.
Even though she knew Chen Feng had his own plans for Qiaodong, she didn't stop him in time and instead became an accomplice, step by step, pushing Zhou Xian into Hell.