The wind and snow between heaven and earth cut like knives, the earth a chopping block, all living things are but fish and meat upon it—men and women, young and old, all caught within.
Amid the endless falling snow, a young man holding six jars of wine looked up, gazing at the snowflakes that never seemed to stop. Watching, watching, each petal of snow seemed to him like the willow catkins of spring.
Flying snow, willow catkins.
A flash of spiritual light streaked across his mind, and that night when Bai Yi, the Flower-Picking Thief, used his exquisite lightweight skill, the scene resurfaced vividly.
The youth slowly closed his eyes, brow arched as the Hidden Dragon in the Abyss surged, and at once, the Strength Pill in his dantian spun; two streams of power roared forth simultaneously.
Each followed its distinct circuit, streaming into his legs.
One step forward.
His body like willow catkin, drifting with the wind—this step was not far, just an ordinary stride.
