The cold wind, mixed with fine snowflakes, lashed at everyone's faces.
Under the insistence of Li Yan and others, Ma The Seventh finally relented.
His face was ashen, his eyes complex, but he still led everyone to the Holy Land.
After all, no sect can afford the stigma of being a traitor.
The group left the military camp, braving the piercing cold, following this restless Out-of-Horse Disciple into the deeper, more uninhabited hinterlands of Changbai Mountain.
The journey was perilous, with snow as deep as their waists. The jagged rocks were covered in ice and snow, and a single misstep could send one tumbling into an abyss.
The fierce wind howled through the valleys, like countless grieving souls.
They traveled for an entire day, reaching a hidden valley surrounded by massive glaciers only when dusk was falling.
In the center of the valley floor, a massive black fissure tore through the frozen ground savagely.
It was like a wound on the mountain, its depth immeasurable.
