Li Guanglong’s pupils shrank sharply, his right hand clamping down on the hilt of his sword, true energy instantly coursing through his body, even his breathing unconsciously slowed.
Wan Chong and a group of soldiers also immediately assumed defensive stances, the cold gleam of drawn sabers flashing under the moonlight.
From the sealed exit, the icy wind carried snow pellets that stung their faces, but no one paid attention to the pain.
There was no trace of drunkenness in Batu’s eyes, only clarity. Behind him, the snowman warriors all stood solemnly, crystal spears slanted toward the ground—obviously they had been waiting here for some time.
“Murong Xue, how dare you betray the tribe!” one snowman warrior roared in the tribal tongue.
Murong Xue’s face turned deathly pale, and he instinctively took a step back.
He knew well the strength of these snowman elites—each one was a Grandmaster-level expert.
Once they made a move, the consequences would be disastrous.
Li Guanglong kept his eyes locked on Batu’s movements, ready to respond to an ambush at any moment. He had even mapped out a retreat path in his mind.
But just then, Batu suddenly raised his hand, halting the restless warriors behind him.
To everyone’s surprise, Batu strode forward, carrying a bundle wrapped in animal hide. With his rough palm, he gently offered the bundle to Murong Xue.
There was no anger in his amber eyes—rather, a trace of reluctance. In halting Chinese, he spoke slowly: “Mister Murong… it’s time for you to go home.”
Li Guanglong froze for a moment, his grip on the sword loosening.
Murong Xue’s eyes widened in disbelief.
He thought Batu would capture him, but unexpectedly, the other party had come to see him off.
Seeing that Murong Xue hadn’t accepted the bundle, Batu shoved it into his arms, then pointed toward a direction deep within the icefield, uttering a series of low syllables.
It was the tribal language of the snowmen, carrying a heavy warmth.
Murong Xue suddenly understood, and he replied quickly in the same tongue, his voice full of gratitude.
Batu patted Murong Xue on the shoulder, then untied from his own neck a string of ice beads inlaid with beast bones, and solemnly hung it around Murong Xue’s neck.
The beads clinked crisply, their sound clear in the silent icefield.
Murong Xue caressed the ice beads, deeply moved.
That string of beads had always been Batu’s most treasured possession—he had never expected Batu would willingly give it to him.
Batu grinned, pointed to the bundle, then to the distance, as if to say that what lay inside would help them survive the dangers ahead.
And the direction he pointed—was the shortcut off Penglai Island.
It turned out, ten years ago, when Murong Xue was stranded on Penglai Island, he had saved Batu from an ice beast siege and had even taught the snowman tribe how to make warming herbs and craft superior weapons. Batu had long regarded him as a benefactor and teacher.
All these years of “house arrest” were only because the High Priest feared that if Murong Xue left, the tribe would have no one to rely on in times of crisis. But Batu always knew Murong Xue longed for the Central Plains, so he had secretly watched for a chance to help him leave.
Murong Xue bowed deeply to Batu and said in the tribal tongue, “Thank you,” his voice overflowing with gratitude.
Batu waved his hand, then pointed at the sky, signaling that they should set out quickly.
Murong Xue no longer hesitated. Turning to Li Guanglong, he said, “Let’s go!”
Though Li Guanglong was full of doubts, he knew now was not the time to ask questions. He followed Murong Xue quickly in the direction Batu had indicated.
Behind them, Batu and the snowman warriors stood silently in the icefield, the moonlight stretching their shadows long.
Only when Li Guanglong’s group disappeared from sight did Batu finally turn back with his men toward the tribe.
The icy wind on the icefield grew fiercer, snowflakes whirling and striking faces painfully.
The soldiers wrapped their coats tighter, trudging heavily through the snow, each step costing immense effort. The crunch of soles grinding against ice rose and fell in the darkness.
Wan Chong’s wound began to ache faintly again, cold sweat soaking his cloak, but he clenched his teeth and pressed on, glancing back from time to time to ensure no soldier fell behind.
No one knew how long they had walked when the horizon slowly brightened with dawn—they had finally left Snowfang Valley.
Li Guanglong signaled the group to rest. The soldiers immediately collapsed onto the snow, pulling out their rations to gnaw on.
But just then, the sky suddenly darkened. The once-scattered flakes of snow turned thick and heavy in an instant. A howling wind swept across, lifting the snow into a pale storm.
“Not good! A blizzard!” Murong Xue’s face changed dramatically, shouting, “Find shelter, quickly!”
The soldiers scrambled to their feet, desperately searching for cover.
But the blizzard struck too fast. Within moments, the entire icefield was engulfed in white wind and snow, visibility less than a few paces.
The gale howled like a wild beast, lifting chunks of snow and hurling them against bodies as if to tear them apart.
One soldier, too slow to dodge, was knocked down by the wind, instantly buried beneath the snow—only a hand protruded, then quickly disappeared under the drifts.
“Grab the person next to you! Don’t get blown away!” Li Guanglong shouted, seizing a soldier’s arm. True energy surged within him as he tried to resist the storm.
Wan Chong too clutched two soldiers tightly, pressing his back against an icy rock to shield them from the worst of the snow.
But the blizzard’s force far exceeded their imagination. Two more soldiers were swept away by the gale, vanishing into the vast, pale storm. - Marinien
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