The snow is still falling.
Feather-like snowflakes silently descend, as if draping the world in a layer of pure white feathers.
The pine branches droop slightly under the weight of the snow, and the outlines of the wasteland mountains loom faintly in the vast white.
The cold wind howls past, swirling a few strands of snow in the air, spinning and leaping.
Inside, the flames lick the iron wall, emitting a slight crackling sound, driving away the chill with its heated breath.
A pot on the fireplace boils with bubbling water, steam rising upwards.
The blazing fire and the hot hearth make the room warm, but also exceptionally dry.
The rising steam moistens the air inside, so those sleeping on the hearth bed won't wake up with a dry, scratchy throat.
In the studio, Luo De sits cross-legged on the hot flue covered with thick animal hide, holding a purple Spirit Gem in his hand, feeling the mysterious energy slowly flowing into his body.
