The ice sculptures shimmered with a cold light in the biting wind, the soldiers’ twisted faces sealed inside the crystalized frost, as if still crying out from the agony of being frozen alive. Li Guanglong stared at those figures, his Adam’s apple rolling a few times as he forced down the tremor in his chest. He raised a hand to rub his still-stiff arm. The spot that had been swept by the white mist earlier was still faintly bruised with purplish-blue, the chill seeming to seep deep into his very bones. “Your Highness, that spirit deer carries a poisonous cold beyond imagination.” Wan Zhong leaned on his blade as he walked over, the wound on his lone arm having split open again from the cold. Blood seeped through the bandages, dripping scarlet dots onto the snow. He gazed toward where the deer had vanished, his eyes full of dread. “We’d best hold our camp steady for now, and not recklessly provoke the creatures of this island again.” Li Guanglong nodded silently. His earlier ...