Outside Starlight City, gray clouds hung heavy overhead.
Li Yao remained standing there, motionless, like a stone statue fixed atop the city wall.
In midair, Li Xing didn't look back, heading straight for the north.
That was the edge of the gray clouds, a boundary that hadn't receded in over three hundred years.
The wind howled past his ears.
The farther north he went, the colder it became.
A bone-chilling cold seeped through the seams of his robes and clung to his skin, like countless tiny ice needles piercing his pores.
Li Xing used no Power to dispel it, simply letting himself feel the cold.
The most terrifying thing about the corrupted lands was when one couldn't even feel the cold anymore.
Two hours later, the grayish-black line on the horizon grew thicker and drew closer.
It was no longer a line, but a wall.
A wall of gray clouds, stretching from the ground to an unseen height and blotting out the sky.
