Jiang Bo'Er etched everything he saw firmly in his mind, each detail imprinted like a knife carving in his brain.
The mining machinery of the Victorians, the patrolling soldiers, the transport routes—these pieces of information were vital.
He took a deep breath, feeling the sting of the cold air filling his lungs, then carefully crept down the slope.
His movements were light and agile, like a fox traversing the snow, trying hard to avoid making any noise.
Although the Victorians made no concealing efforts, their actions were almost blatant, as if they didn't care about the French at all, Jiang Bo'Er still didn't want to be discovered.
He knew what awaited him once exposed.
In the years following the onset of the apocalyptic winter, the Victorian rule became increasingly excessive.
Their oppression was pervasive, like an invisible net, encompassing every French person.
