The cold wind howled, sweeping up flurries of snow.
The vast wilderness was gradually being covered in white, and under the veil of the blizzard, the distant mountains could only be seen in vague outlines.
The Anzeta Great Wilderness, known as the "Land of Extreme Cold," had finally entered its long and brutal winter. During this time, every living creature on this barren land struggled desperately for survival.
The climate of the North was always unpredictable, and soon the snowstorm dissipated, leaving only a blanket of frost.
And there, on the snow-covered road, a thousand-strong army was struggling forward. They were wrapped in not-so-thick cotton clothes, resembling a black river in a white world, leaving a long trail on the thick snow.
"Hurry up! Keep up in the rear!"
"Make use of this good weather to press on!"
Viscount Farouk Edson, riding a horse and waving a long whip, shouted loudly at his subordinates.
