In the Northern Frontier, Canglang City.
The snowstorm that had raged for days finally ceased. Cracks opened in the lead-gray clouds, and long-absent sunlight pierced the gloom like golden swords, showering down upon the thick blanket of snow atop the city walls.
The freezing air drawn into the nose and mouth carried a crisp freshness unique to the aftermath of snow, yet it could not dispel the lingering scent of gunpowder mingled with blood. It was the mark left by the mutiny, and the proof of having survived a catastrophe.
Chapter 222