On the vast plains, a world blanketed in white.
While Jiangnan was still in late autumn and the north of the river had just begun to enter winter, here on the northern steppes, Heaven and Earth were already covered in heavy snow.
But what was more heartbreaking was that even in such snowy weather, the nomads of the grassland could not rest.
They had to endure the bitter cold and hunger, struggling to migrate through the endless snow.
"Hurry, it has only been snowing for half a month, and the weather isn't at its coldest yet."
A middle-aged man dressed as a tribal leader rode back and forth on a fine horse, encouraging his people in the migrating tribe: "If we keep moving for two more pastures, we'll find the camp left by the Anyan tribe, where we can spend the winter."
