The Cloud Mist Mountain Range was a place where the earth touched the sky, shrouded in a perpetual, suffocating blanket of white fog that tasted of ice and ancient spiritual pressure. The ambient Qi here was thick, wet, and biting cold, a paradise for Ice and Water attribute cultivators, but a damp, miserable hell for anyone else.
Alaric stood on a jagged precipice, his black robes whipping in the freezing wind, looking out over the endless sea of white mist. Beside him stood Lin Ruoli, shivering despite her cultivation, and Ya Su, who was wrapped in a thick fur cloak that did little to hide the terror in her eyes.
They had been searching for seven days. Seven days of combing through freezing ravines, scaling icy peaks, and scanning every vibration in the spiritual atmosphere. And they had found nothing.
