The cluster of igloos spread across the valley like a white beehive, with cooking smoke weaving a dense net under the lead-gray sky. Following Batu, Li Guanglong arrived at the snowman tribe. Led by Batu, the group passed through the bustling streets. The ice beneath their feet had been worn smooth as glass by tens of thousands of steps, reflecting the snow hawks circling overhead. Snowmen along the way paused to salute, while children clung to icy windows, peering curiously. Around their necks hung bone necklaces of varying styles --- some set with turquoise, others sealed with dark-red resin. “This is Snowfang Valley,” Murong Xue whispered, keeping his voice low. “The tribe numbers eight thousand three hundred, divided into twelve hunting parties.” He lifted his hand, pointing toward the massive ice sculpture carved into the Cliffside --- a three-eyed figure with glowing crystals set in its sockets. “The highest point is the Ice Temple, where rituals are held. The chieftain...