The winter wind had started to blow at some point, pouring in through the windows of the office building and gently slapping against the face.
Lin An looked up at the window, squinted his eyes, and took a deep breath of the icy air.
He felt extremely comfortable.
The thin shirt he wore provided no warmth, but at that moment, he didn't feel any coldness.
A warm and cozy breath was surging in his chest, continuously spreading to his limbs and body.
Even without relying on this Furnace's breath, he seemed no longer to fear the winter's harsh cold.
His physique had undergone a quiet transformation.
Lin An smiled faintly and continued to write in the book before him.
Last night, as he turned the plains beneath the mountain range to ashes, perhaps as dictated by destiny, the manuscript of "Scorched Earth Witchcraft" from an era it didn't belong to was incinerated without even ashes remaining.
Now, he needed to rewrite it.
