Heavy snow blanketed Heluo; on ten thousand paths, all traces of people had vanished.
Across Yi-Luo, among a thousand mountains and ten thousand waterways, beasts hid their tracks and every bird had vanished. From east to west, only the cold wind howled past, sweeping layer upon layer of ice crystals between heaven and earth, like the Wind God roaring and the Snow God descending.
"Wooo, wooo..."
A bleak, mournful horn suddenly sounded, instantly breaking the silence of Heluo.
When Huo Guang left Chang'an, he had a premonition that he would never return, but affairs east of the passes were resolved so quickly and smoothly that he breathed a sigh of relief. He had never expected that this would still be his fate.
Luoyang.
Luo Qing stood there, feeling the solace this sacred city of All Xia offered him. The city was like a mother to the Luo Clan, ceaselessly deepening its foundations over the past thousand years.
The heavy snow had finished falling. Huo Guang gazed at the towering city not far away. Before him, mountains encircled the shimmering sacred waters of Yi-Luo. Their gently rising waves brought to mind the legend of the Yellow River Chart and Luo River Writ, and the Nine Tripods said to have been lost in the Luo River.
A sigh.
"Let us stop here."
Huo Guang spoke with a faint sigh.
Then he looked at Luo Qing and said, "Cousin, your younger cousin is dying."
Relatives shared an inborn bond of blood and were naturally close, but keeping in touch mattered too. So it was with Huo Guang and Luo Qing. They had known each other for decades, one working in the light and the other in the shadows. Having accomplished so many great things together, they shared a deep affection.
Now Huo Guang