The drifting snow was like a curtain. It fell at the root of the city wall, and piled up a snow barrier which was as high as half a man's height at the southern gate. A scholar stood before the snow barrier, but nobody knew when he showed up there.
He was still in the old cotton jacket, but the jacket had fresh cuts all over it, and the cotton filling was coming out from them, shivering in the snowy storm.
He had bled for days. Some of the blood had been blown away by the wild wind, while more of it had condensed on the protruding cotton, looking black and ugly. With the wooden rod which had cuts of the swords on it, he looked like a beggar that had been chased by a dog for days.
He might be in discomfiture now, but his expression remained peaceful still. He looked tranquil from top to bottom, like the snow drifting slowly at the moment.
He looked at the Abbey Dean and said, "The Academy finally chose Chang'an City for the final battle."