It was snow-white—everywhere.
This was the only feeling Long Yuehong had after the Old Task Force had traversed Icefield for three days.
Here, apart from the light-blue sky, darkness, and the various colors coming from the Old Task Force, all he saw was snow-white.
In this season, the few creatures that existed in Icefield remained dormant.
If not for the sunglasses, Long Yuehong suspected that he would've already been blinded.
Shang Jianyao—who was driving—muttered as he stared ahead with his eye-protecting sunglasses, "Where are the bandits? Can't some bandits come?"
At this moment, the music didn't seem to make him forget the boredom outside.
In the passenger seat, Jiang Baimian nudged her sunglasses and scoffed. "Where would bandits come from in Icefield? The only outcome of being a bandit here is to starve to death or freeze to death."
