The wind in the north was stronger than the rumors in the alleys of Beijing. It picked up broken snow and slapped it on my face, which hurt like a knife cutting flesh. Fu Feng stood behind the arrow stack in Zhenbei Tower, holding the yellowed dragon vein diagram in his left hand. The dagger handle in his right hand was slippery with sweat from his palm. Below the city tower, the enemy's "Black Cloud Riders" spread out like real dark clouds. The silver wolf emblem on the black cloak glowed coldly in the dusk. The sound of horse hooves was as dull as knocking on everyone's heart. Even the ice in the cracks of the city bricks was trembling.
