The cold that settled over the Precursor terrace was unlike any natural winter frost Lin Tao had ever met. It wasn’t born of freezing mountain winds or snowstorms blowing in from the northern steppes. It was an unnatural, heat-powered empty pocket created by raw calculating tiredness.
To execute hundreds of thousands of looping counts per second, Du Cang’s formation was siphoning heat energy directly from the local environment. Within minutes, the surrounding heat plunged past thirty degrees below zero, then forty, then fifty. Frost crystal-hardened instantly along the seams of Lin Tao’s linen coat. That turned the coarse cloth stiff as hardened rawhide.
Tie Shan stepped up behind Lin Tao, unrolling a heavy wool traveling blanket lined with cured sheepskin. The fleece had been salvaged from their pack mule before entering the high passes, double-layered and stitched with thick hemp thread. The giant draped the heavy fleece over Lin Tao’s trembling shoulders. It tucked the edges firmly beneath Lin Tao’s chin.
He reached into his pocket. Then he pulled a small horn jar of sheep fat, quickly spreading a thin protective layer over Lin Tao’s exposed cheeks and nose to prevent frostbite. The grease smelled of woodsmoke and sheep fat. But it right away formed a protective barrier against the freezing air.
