Meng Qianqian walked back two miles, passing through the western forest and entering a mountain range with layers upon layers of peaks.
Crossing this mountain range would save two to three days of travel.
The mountain paths were rugged, and the snow was heavy, with several winding sections situated on the edge of cliffs. On the left was a steep rocky mountain wall, while the right opened up to a frigid abyss swept by fierce winds.
Sometimes what appeared to be a path could easily be nothing more than a pile of snow. One wrong step and there would be no return.
Holding her horse's reins, Meng Qianqian trudged forward with difficulty through the snowstorm.
The closer she got to the summit, the heavier the snowstorm grew. The wind blew so fiercely that she could barely keep her eyes open, and the horse repeatedly refused to move forward.
A well-trained horse could sense danger in its surroundings, protecting not just itself but also Meng Qianqian.
