The cold night was like a ferocious beast lurking in the dark abyss, menacingly enveloping Flying Tiger Pass with its claws and fangs.
Under the ink-colored sky, snowflakes fluttered down, like countless spirits draped in white feathered robes dancing in the deep night sky. They moved gracefully, yet seemed to carry some unknown mission.
However, behind this dreamlike snowy scene, a blood battle capable of changing the heavens and earth was quietly unfolding.
Atop the Flying Tiger Pass tower, the piercing cold wind howled like sharp blades, wildly threading through, causing the flags on the tower to flap fiercely. That sound was like the pounding of war drums, adding an exhilarating backdrop to this deadly battle.
The snowflakes, ravaged by the storm, lashed at people's faces like arrows off the string, bringing sharp, penetrating pain as if the cold flakes could cut through skin. The snowfield beneath the tower was already deeply stained with layers of blood.
