The howling winds of the glacial range finally began to calm.
The echoes of battle faded, leaving only the slow crackle of ice settling over the dead. The snowfields, once pristine white, were now littered with frozen corpses and shards of shattered armor glinting faintly beneath the faint blue glow of the misty sky.
It was over.
The last Ephemera Sect cultivator in the northern range fell to the ground, his body encased in frost, eyes wide open in disbelief. Lin Mu stood a few paces away, his breath forming slow, even clouds in the air.
Around him, the Ice Drakes lowered their heads, their breaths releasing fog that quickly crystallized into drifting flakes. Elyon stepped out from a patch of shadow, his robes perfectly clean despite the slaughter that had just taken place.
"None left here," Elyon said quietly. His tone was calm, but there was a faint satisfaction in it. "They didn't even try to run."
