Rustle~~
The wind shrieked through Xuetian Valley… like a widow wailing for her husband's impotent Dao.
On either side of the narrow pathway, walls of ice stood, jagged and endless, as if the heavens had split open and frozen over mid-scream. Each gust of wind carried a faint echo… whispers of the countless souls who had perished here.
This was no ordinary canyon.
It was Yue Country's first line of defense against the Frost Dominion.
Generations of war had turned this place into a mass grave. The frost had devoured thousands of cultivators, their blood crystallizing into the very ice that now sealed the valley's fate. The walls weren't just cold—they remembered.
And yet, amidst all this death and solemnity…
A lone bastard stood there, kicking at imaginary pebbles.
Su Xiaobai sighed, his breath turning to mist, his boot casually nudging a half-buried sword.
