Northwest of the Oshuria Principality, Sordanlen Khanate.
June. White Disaster. Cattle and sheep died. People devoured one another.
Crunch, crunch.
The endless procession stretched beyond sight. Numb refugees trampled the frost-covered grasslands, bringing their only remaining possessions and horses as they migrated toward the southern kingdoms.
The temperature had fallen to an unimaginable level.
No matter where one was, cold was life's mortal enemy. The sudden cold wave had caught the grasslands utterly unprepared. June should have been the season of lush grass and fattening flocks; no one had expected such a drastic change.
The Khan's warriors rode alongside to monitor the refugees, not to help drive off beasts or avoid danger. First, they feared the refugees would band together and loot everywhere; second, they wanted to stop them from joining hostile tribes.
As for the southern kingdoms? If they truly managed to get there, then let them go.
A goshawk shrieked as it landed on Kuo He Tai's shoulder, shaking its wings to shed the heavy snow. Kuo He Tai took a frog leg from his robes and fed it to the bird, sighing. "The world is unpredictable. After this blizzard, I can only feed my hawk frog legs."
General Na Tuo beside him sneered. "Supervisor Kuo He Tai, you still have the mood to fly hawks? When the Great Khan returns from his campaign and sees the grasslands like this, let's see what you do."
"Natural disasters and human calamities—what can be avoided? What year have herders ever gone without suffering disaster? Besides, with a White Disaster in June, who would have stored grain at this time of year?"
Kuo He Tai had the air of a man beyond caring. He had completely given up.
"You cannot even be bothered to keep up appearances. At least send people