Less than a week after the New Year of 3783 in the Continental New Calendar, a bitter wind swept across the entire Murto Mountain Ranges, carrying a blizzard with it.
Snowflakes had begun falling at dawn, and by noon, they showed no sign of stopping.
Snow blanketed both sky and earth in white. It covered not only the desolate ground left barren by war, but also every trace of the blood that had seeped into the soil and darkened to an almost black red, making the entire Murto Mountain Ranges seem as pure and white as the snow itself.
Shalong Li Nuer, commander of the Greedy Wolf Legion, stood outside his tent and gazed toward the distant Murto Mountain Ranges, now reduced to a vague outline beneath the snow. Before long, snow had covered him from head to toe, turning him into a snowman.
Though the blizzard made the distant Murto Mountain Ranges impossible to see clearly, Li Nuer knew that the Lampari Kingdom's Northern Garrison must be stationed all across them.
Just as his men were guarding against a surprise attack by the Northern Garrison in this weather, the Northern Garrison was undoubtedly watching for the Greedy Wolf Legion to seize the chance to launch a counterattack on the Murto Mountain Ranges.
This standoff had continued ever since the Lampari Kingdom's Northern Garrison captured the Murto Mountain Ranges midway through the previous year.
Neither side was willing-or dared-to give ground. Retreating here would mean exposing their border to the enemy's army, and no one could predict the consequences.
In this weather, however, neither side was capable of attacking, giving them a rare spell of peace.
Yet Li Nuer was far from satisfied with that peace.
The Murto Mountain Ranges, which the Sark Kingdom had controlled for nearly ten years,