The harsh environment of the Beilu Icefield was beyond imagination.
Gloomy black clouds hung oppressively low. Although it was daytime, the light was incredibly dim, and the air seemed shrouded in a grayish-blue mist. A blizzard howled like a wailing ghost, its fury mixed with fist-sized hailstones that savagely ravaged the pitiful land below.
The most terrifying part was the temperature, dozens of degrees below zero! Not a single blade of grass grew; it was a cold that seemed capable of freezing all creation solid.
Sang Luo trudged onward against the raging blizzard, her steps uneven and labored.
She had specifically researched the conditions on the North Continent before coming. She wore several layers of thick, compressed fleece, a cloak, and a hat, bundling herself up completely. Even so, she had clearly underestimated just how harsh the environment was.
Only a dozen or so minutes had passed, yet she was already covered in a thick layer of snow.
