The snow didn't just fall in Beiliang; it conquered. It blanketed the jagged peaks like a burial shroud, hiding the blood of the thousands who had fallen defending the northern gate.
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"The capital thinks Beiliang is a wall of stone," Lin Feng whispered, his voice cutting through the gale. "They forget that Beiliang is a wall of men. If they want this land to be a grave, we will make sure it belongs to the invaders." The snow didn't just fall in Beiliang; it conquered
"The Northern Barbarians... they've crossed the Black River," the rider gasped, collapsing before the fortress steps. "The capital... they sent no reinforcements. They want us to die here, Lin Feng. They want the snow to bury the shame of their betrayal." "The capital thinks Beiliang is a wall of
With a single strike, he carved a line into the frozen earth—a boundary no man would cross and live. As the horizon darkened with the silhouette of ten thousand enemy banners, the "useless" son of Beiliang stepped into the blizzard, his sword glowing with a cold, pale light that promised a winter the world would never forget.
Any or political enemies from the capital he must face.
Lin Feng stood, the heavy silk of his white robe snapping in the wind. He didn't look back at the warm hearth inside or the maps of a kingdom that had abandoned him. He drew his blade. The steel hummed, a low, vibrating note that seemed to command the very storm to pause.