Qianye looked up at the aged outline of the structure. After a momentary pause, he walked straight toward the main doors.

There were ribbons of light flickering into existence on the path ahead, but he dispersed them with a wave of his hand. It was as though he were walking through an excessively decorated street during a festival. This process seemed easy, but every step was akin to walking on the edge of the abyss. Ordinary experts would lose half their palm after each swing, but the luminous ribbons were fairly obedient and kept their fangs hidden in front of Qianye.

Brushing away the colorful ribbons, Qianye finally arrived at the doors of the Thunderfrost Temple.

The doors were several dozen meters tall, making Qianye look like a small ant in comparison. The doors were similarly made of deep ice—they were entirely dark blue with continuous carvings upon it. Upon careful inspection, the images upon them were a depiction of various legends and stories about how the ancients had sought survival in this wasteland and finally constructed this temple.

There was no better construction material than deep ice upon this cliff. These predecessors...