The obsidian short axe hanging at the waist swayed gently, and the fur on the wolf skin cloak seemed to shimmer with silver-white ice light under the glints of the forest breeze.
Standing over two meters tall, muscles as robust as marble revealed clear contours under the forest shade.
In the shadow cast by his high brow, eyes like icy blue flames slightly shifted, gazing past the bushes and hanging branches to the Winter Wolf leaping from the grass ahead, resting on the figure standing at the cave's exit — a figure that hadn't been seen for over a year, looking subtly unfamiliar due to significant changes, yet somehow familiar.
With indescribable doubt and a thick Northern Territory accent blurred by the cold wind, a hoarse, deep male voice echoed from the forest:
"Xia Nan?"
...
...
"Crackle."
The campfire blazed, scattering sparks with a crisp sound.
Barbarian Fugang leaned against a tall oak trunk in the camp, as always, calmly maintaining his obsidian short axe.
