The next morning, the sun hung unusually high in the sky, quietly watching the vast snowfield, adding a bit of warmth to the sky. No wind, no clouds, the ground showed no trace of green. The white snow reflected the sunlight, emitting a blinding glare. Tall trees stood motionless like guardians of this ancient land, with snow and icicles hanging from their branches, exuding a determined yet desolate aura.
In an open area, Luo Zheng stood silently on the snow, watching the canyon ahead with a heavy gaze. This was the place for the hostage exchange. His brothers were all ambushed in hidden positions in the rear, on standby. The prisoners of war were also waiting in the rear forest, all tied up with ropes, their spirits low. Already severely wounded, and with no food or drink for days, their bodies couldn't take it, leaving them too weak to cause trouble.
