A desolate wilderness stretched to the horizon, and the biting cold wind howled, stripping away all warmth. To survive on this land, other than migrating, people had no choice but to dig through the bone-chilling, unceasing cold, day and night, searching among the withered trees and frozen riverbeds for a morsel of food to fill their stomachs. They had no hope—only the absolute harshness, cruelty, and stringency brought by the Frost Calamity.
The wind that ravaged all things was so terrifying that even a tiny spark would vanish completely in the dry, freezing cold, losing all ability to ignite anything.
Frost Calamity, Frost Calamity—everything was pale, and only frost remained. Under its demonic might, less than one percent of all living beings in the northern part of the Beixuan Ritual Continent survived. The fortunate had long since migrated, while the unfortunate still struggled bitterly within it.
Chapter 557