The bitter winter of the Northern Frontier is a wind that scrapes the bone and a snow that can freeze the soul.
Night fell heavily, and lead-gray clouds pressed down tightly upon the towering watchtowers and battlements of Canglang City, as though they might collapse at any moment.
The wind howled as it wove between the embrasures of the city wall, whipping up the accumulated snow on the ground into swirling, hazy mists of white that painted the entire world in a deathly shade of ash.
Chapter 289