Within a giant and empty cave, there were rough signs of chiseling everywhere. Torches were inserted in grooved channels in the wall. Thick globs of burning fat constantly dripped down, but before they were by the bone-chilling air.

More than ten figures were standing silently. Whether they were men or women, they were tall and their faces were etched with the color of passing wind and frost. They wore thick fur coats and fur hats. It wasn’t because they weren’t strong enough to resist the cold of the seasons, but that the cold air in this snowy northern region had a terrifying ability to pierce through and ignore one’s cultivation.

Sitting in the center of these people was a silver-haired old man. He was different from the others in that all he wore was a thin white robe, making him seem even more thin and withered. But, the tall and calm men and women around him all looked at him with deep respect in their eyes.

Suddenly, a weak voice rose up. It was like an ice-bound stream in the mountains had finally thawed and was now beginning to flow. The silver-haired old man opened his eyes. His pupils were clear and bright, filled with a light that seemed as if it could see through all things.

“It’s time.” His voice was warm and temperate, a bit of anticipation in it. “After this,...