As noon approached, dark clouds rolled in over the Home.
The deluge tore a rift between heaven and earth. Outside the window, rain poured in sheets, filling the air with its roar.
"This feels even worse than that storm in the forest," Qin Ziwu remarked, standing by the balcony.
The rain was so heavy that visibility was almost zero. A sheet of gray haze was all that could be seen outside.
"The Fishmen must love this weather," Qin Ziwen noted. He saw that the Fishmen in the Home were quite agitated. The air was thick with moisture; for them, it was like a fish in water.
However, not many Fishmen had remained in the Home, and those who did were mostly single.
The ones with families had all returned to the Fishman Tribe with Lorne.
'I wonder how many of their people they'll be able to bring back.'
Speak of the devil.
Lorne was walking at the head of the group.
A long procession followed behind him.
The group was nearly four times the size it had been when they set out at dawn.
