The spring in the Northern Frontier arrives very late, and summer lasts only a short while, fleeting before one realizes it. Winter then descends with harsh cold, and a few days prior, a light dusting of snow fell, forming a thin layer of frost on the armor, chilling it greatly.
Baili Feng reached out and rubbed his frozen, stiff face, exhaling a breath of white mist.
Distant snow-capped mountains were shrouded in a thick, oppressive black cloud. He had been here for a long time, and in a place like the Northern Frontier, the passage of time felt peculiar, almost as if he had spent half his life here.
He stared blankly at the snowy peaks for a long time before rubbing his nose.
A blizzard was imminent.
The frontline between the Northern Frontier and the Great Qin's Protectorate General had persisted for a full seven months.
