The north wind carried fine snow, weaving a silver white net in the Helan Valley.
Shi Feiyang held Guo Xiangyu in his arms. Her cheek gently pressed against his warm chest, listening to the powerful heartbeat, and the whole world quieted down. "Young master, look at the mountain wall over there..." Guo Xiangyu's voice was as sweet as honey, her slender fingers pointing into the distance, the silver bell in her hair gently swaying with her movement, ringing out a soft sound in the silent valley.
However, this moment of tenderness was quickly shattered.
The north wind wrapped with snow particles like iron sand, turned the Helan Valley into a Shura slaughterhouse.
Forty dark shadows descended from the cliff, the sound of swords unsheathing like the cries of ghosts in a cold night, reflecting a cold blue glint on the white snow.
