The wind and snow cut through the night like a knife.
Half of the ruined temple outside the deserted village in the northern border had already collapsed. The roof supported by dead branches was leaking snow, like a corner of the sky broken into pieces, turning the whole world into a dead white.
Su Wanjin huddled in the corner, her thin linen clothes unable to contain the cold, her hands turned purple from the cold, and her fingertips trembled slightly.
She held a frost grass tightly in her arms - the leaves were covered with ice crystals, and it was supposed to be an extremely cold-resistant elixir. However, at this moment, it quickly lost its luster in her palm, turning from green to gray, and then shattered into powder, slipping between her fingers.
"Don't die... Please..." Her voice was so soft that it was almost swallowed up by the wind and snow, and she watched helplessly as her last hope vanished into nothingness.
