Snowflakes on Cang Mountain are as large as mats, hidden winds and a waning moon shine over shadowed ditches.
Upon the sheer cliff, in the midst of blizzard and squall, waves of killing cries rise, sounds of dreadful roars cleave the night, adding a touch of ominous air to this silent, deathly world.
"This was once the retreat of Pure Yang Zhenren. Withdraw at once!"
"Damn it, we've already lost half our men. If Master Ye Si were here, his Living Dead Technique would let us pass this threshold."
"Master Ye Si has journeyed to Mangdang Mountain, where there are clues for Jia Sheng Gui Si, and they're firm—a certainty. Fifth Master Mo and Third Master Li have both gone too."
"Even Third Master Li? Isn't his health always poor?"
The cliff stands perilous, with only a few feet of ground to hold. Seven or eight figures gather there, braving wind and snow; three wear Daoist Robes, while the rest are dressed in the garb of the secular world.
