Silver-clad and wrapped in white, the biting wind blew like a blade.
The Great Hang Mountains lay in profound silence, everything buried beneath a vast expanse of pristine snow.
In a corner of a nameless peak stood a thoroughly unremarkable Daoist temple. Its walls and gates were faded and mottled, icicles hung from the eaves, and under the crushing weight of thick snow, it looked as though it might collapse at any moment.
Chapter 678