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Seven Nights of Snow
Part I: Prologue
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I've traveled thousands of miles to say goodbye to you.
On the first and last snowy nights
—Epigraph
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The snow started falling at some unknown time.
So vast, it was as if a swarm of butterflies had silently descended from the cold gray clouds, passing through the boundless fir forest, sweeping across the land. In the blink of an eye, the desolate wilderness had turned a pale white.
By the time they caught their breath, the snow had already covered the sword's edge.
Red snow fell onto the pure black sword. The stench of blood made his stomach, which hadn't eaten for two days and one night, cramp. To be honest, for someone who always avoided getting his hands dirty, the number of people he had killed this time was... a bit too many.
Huo Zhanbai was breathing heavily, but he dared not move his body at all. His arm was stiff, maintaining the posture after he thrust out his sword.
It was an extremely brutal stalemate: his sword pierced his opponent's chest, pinning him to the dark fir tree behind him. At the same time, the assassin wearing the white jade mask's sword also pierced his body, passing through his right rib and reaching his lung—after such a fatal blow, both men reached their physical limits, panting heavily.
If either side makes the slightest move, the outcome will be mutual destruction.
The wasteland was deathly silent for a moment.
The snow continued to fall, endlessly, the massive fir trees standing like cold tombstones pointing towards the sky. He and the silver-clad assassin faced off silently in the forest, maintaining the eerie posture from their final strike, their swords still embedded in each other's bodies.
Huo Zhanbai breathed carefully, feeling his expanding lungs almost touching the cold sword.
He struggled to maintain his balance and sanity, refusing to fall before his opponent. The chest pierced by his own sword was heaving rapidly, and the eyes behind the white jade mask were slowly dimming.
It seems that the other side has also reached its limit.
Despite the opponent's repeated attempts to advance, the sword that had pierced Huo Zhanbai's right ribs became stuck in the ribcage, finally losing its momentum before piercing his lung. The masked head suddenly tilted slightly to one side and fell silently down.
Huo Zhanbai silently let out a breath—after all, they still won!
In that frigid snowfield, if the stalemate continued, both sides would probably freeze to death. He stared intently at the white jade mask just inches away, and very slowly shifted his body weight backward, allowing the other's sword to slowly leave his lungs.
Only a small amount of blood flowed out.
In such frigid weather, the blood was frozen solid on the wound as soon as it gushed out.
It took him the time it takes to drink a cup of tea to move that half-foot distance. After completely stepping back, he pressed his right rib with his backhand—in this snowfield sniping, fighting alone against the twelve Silver Wings, even Huo Qi Gongzi, who was known as the number one swordsman in the Central Plains, had suffered thirteen serious injuries.
But this should be the last one, right?
If we don't hurry to Medicine Master Valley, I'm afraid we won't be able to hold on.
The moment the sword was drawn, the silver-clad assassin, who had fought him to the death for nearly a hundred rounds, lost his support and slowly fell against the fir tree, leaving a trail of blood on the trunk behind him.
"Crack!" The mask covering his face cracked the moment he
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