A blizzard swept across the train's route. A thick grey curtain enveloped the cold earth. Visibility was pitifully short and the air was extremely cold. Even breathing the bone-chilling cold seemed to freeze one's heart and lungs.
The steam poured out from the locomotive and condensed into ice crystals before it could dissipate. It was a new model that Lorenzo had never seen before. The combustion chamber of the train was half open, and endless sparks floated away as it sped away, like the only light in this cold night.
There are only a few carriages that can shelter from the wind and snow. Most of the carriages on this train are open containers, blocked by dark green waterproof cloth. You can't see what's underneath. The hard snowflakes are like flying ice knives, hitting the whole thing heavily, like falling steel rain.
Lorenzo's figure slowly appeared in the field of vision. Perhaps the strong wind on the roof was too strong, he looked shaky. Under the snow, Lawrence could only barely make out the gray shadow.
The wooden box on the back of the scarlet robe looked heavy.
"You did well, kid. I am even more curious about who you are. There is no one named Lorenzo Holmes among the demon hunters."
In such a long confrontation, Lawrence already knew Lorenzo's name... But demon hunters don't have names. Although this reminded him of a person from long ago, his age didn't match that of the demon hunter in front of him, and he was very curious.
"So who are you anyway?"
Lawrence's voice was drowned out by the violent snowstorm, but with the witcher's hearing, Lorenzo still heard it clearly.
"He is just a person who survives. This name is just a random one... It is meaningless, Master."
It was unknown what he was thinking about in his gray-blue eyes. Lorenzo's voice was lazy and reached Lawrence's ears along with the wind.
The demon hunter looked around casually. Sometimes he began to become obsessed with himself. This place was simply too perfect as a battlefield for a fight to the death.
The pitch-black python roamed on the pale earth, stirring up snow waves several meters high and leaving behind gray tracks. In a blizzard of such a terrible scale, such tracks would not last long. After about ten minutes, they would be covered by heavy snow, as if no one had ever been there.
It was as if all the snow in the world was pouring down at this moment, isolating Lorenzo and the others from the whole world. The moonlight was blocked by the snow clouds, and everything was like the gray after death.
This is a train heading to the underworld, and the passengers are all ghosts who have long since died.
Two people stood on the roof of the car. Due to the small area, there was very little space for them to move left or right, and they could only move forward or backward.
"So... let's start?"
Lawrence asked.
There was no rage of revenge, nor any curse of hatred. He just asked the question calmly, as if it was an everyday greeting.
"OK."
Lorenzo's response echoed in the wind.
The rage turned into an uncontrollable calm in the end. There was no passionate roar before the war. At this moment, apart from action, no words could express the burning anger.
Just like the end of that old story, the evil spirits met on a narrow road.
Lawrence clenched the spiked sword with both hands, with the tip of the sword pointing slightly downward, like a tiger arched in its arms. When another gust of snow swept between the two of them, a deafening roar pierced through the blizzard.