The northern wind howled.
A merchant caravan traversed the icy official road, the yaks pulling the carts galloping over the frost...
"Damn, this damn weather, why is it getting colder and colder?"
"The snow on the mountain gets thicker layer by layer, naturally, it gets colder... But at this time every year, there are more and more people coming from the Central Plains."
"Heh, they're all here for our Grassland's Snow God Festival... Hey, what is that?"
The Hu man, originally sitting on a yak, suddenly shouted, causing the people in the caravan to turn their heads.
At the intersection of the snow-white ground and the blue sky with white clouds, with warm yellow reeds hurriedly as the backdrop, a horse galloped across the frosty lake surface...
Though it was a fine and strong horse, it was too strange; is there really a Central Plains horse in this world that can withstand the bitter cold of the Western Regions?
