The night was like a wet black cloth, weighing heavily upon the Black Ice Plain. The white breath exhaled by Ye Fan froze into ice crystals just before reaching his brows, lodging in the seams of his armor with a bone-chilling cold.
He looked back at the five people behind him—Su Qingxue’s fox-fur cloak fluttered in the wind, Lin Zhaoyue’s sword tassel brushed against the silver bells in Chu Hongzhuang’s hair, and the Iron-masked Man’s Dark Iron Saber was wrapped in coarse cloth, the remnants of campfire embers still clinging to its hilt like tiny stars.
"Move," he lowered his voice, his boot soles crushing the thin ice.
Chapter 224