Three days passed in a flash. Jiang Qiu donned the suit of black Armor with a tiger's head sculpted onto its shoulder. Holding the North Snow Tribe's heirloom, the Northern Snow Lance, he bid farewell to Uncle Xiong, ready to follow Leader Hunt's party north.
"Hill."
A sudden, clear cry stopped Jiang Qiu just as he was about to mount his horse. With his right foot in the stirrup, he turned his head and saw Flower amid the vast expanse of snow, her right hand raised high in a wave. Her figure, slender yet full, was still strikingly defined even beneath a thick, padded coat.
"May you claim the greatest of the ancestral legacies!"
Her cry seemed to cut through the wind and snow, striking his chest like a small hammer. Jiang Qiu's eyes widened slightly as he tightened his grip on the reins. "I will."
