Once they got outside, Feng's eyes widened.
He stopped in his tracks, unable to take it all in at once.
The entire place was draped in snow, buildings frosted with white layers, paths buried in snow, and icy lanterns glowing faintly in the distance.
Yet… he couldn't even feel the cold despite the ice.
The wind rushed past his face, sharp and crisp, and for a moment his body remembered what pain was supposed to feel like.
The chill bit into his cheeks, nearly making him shiver. But he welcomed it.
It was so much better than the heat of blood running down his head after a beating.
Feng's gaze shifted toward the woman who had latched herself onto his Master.
Veyra walked with light steps, her silver hair bouncing in rhythm, her voice carrying with the ease of someone who never doubted herself.
She dragged Azel along with a mix of playfulness and stubborn insistence, even though his expression said he would rather be anywhere else.
