She could only bite her lower lip and stare unwillingly at the figure disappearing into the night ahead.
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The night was like ink, the cold wind like a blade.
Amid the wind, the pounding of hooves that made the very ground quiver wove into a single roar in their ears, like muffled thunder rolling endlessly across the heavens, yet no one was willing to slow their horse.
By now, everyone's faces had already been whipped stiff by the cold wind.
Yu Wenye lifted his eyes to the front. In the darkness, those fleeing for their lives naturally didn't dare light torches, and they themselves had no time to prepare any for illumination. The two groups of riders, one before and one behind, groped their way through the pitch-black night like this. From time to time came the screams of someone who, spurring his horse into a gallop, misjudged the path and fell heavily to the ground; compared to the people ahead, they had to spare even more attention for obstacles on the road.
