The wind and snow, like countless sharp knives tempered with ice, crazily tore at every brick and stone of Yanmen Pass.
The cold wind carried snowflakes as big as goose feathers, roaring across the dilapidated towers, making a mournful cry like ghosts crying and wolves howling.
On the city wall, a bright yellow figure that was almost ridiculously thin was swaying in the wind and snow, as if it would be swallowed by the ruthless cold at any time.
Lin Xuan, the seventh prince of the Great Xia Dynasty.
The brocade robe on his body, which symbolized royal dignity, had long been soaked by the wind and snow and clung tightly to his body. Instead of bringing any warmth, it instead became a cold armor, gradually draining away the little heat left in his body.
His lips were chapped and turned a sickly purple color, and his handsome but bloodless cheeks were full of red marks from the cold. A pair of deep eyes stared fixedly at the darkness blurred by the wind and snow outside the city. In the pupils, there was extremely suppressed anger and unwillingness.
Three days ago, he was the "unknown prince" that no one cared about and could be bullied by everyone in the capital.
