"Screech."
The old, broken wooden door opened. A hunter with a hunting bow slung across his back walked in, came to sit by the straw-matted mat, and looked at the black-haired youth lying upon it. He took the bamboo tube from his waist, pulled out the wooden plug, and poured the green liquid into the youth's mouth.
After finishing all this, the hunter went aside, tossed some dry wood into the fire, and kept the room warm.
Half an hour later, a cough caught the hunter's attention.
The black-haired youth lying on the straw mat slowly opened his eyes, looked at the unfamiliar ceiling, sat up, and rubbed his throbbing head.
"You're awake."
Hearing the awkward language, Velin turned his head to look and saw a hunter sitting by the campfire.
"What is this place?"
"The mountains near Bayan Village in the Romo Snowfield."
The hunter tossed another piece of dry firewood into the campfire, opened an earthenware pot, ladled out a bowl of meat broth from inside, came over to Velin, handed it to him, and said, "Drink it while it's hot."
Seeing this, Velin thanked him, took the wooden bowl from the hunter's hand, brought it to his lips, and took a small sip.
For some reason, he now seemed to have become an ordinary person, unable to sense his demiplane, let alone his spatial equipment.
Could this be the Illusionary Realm Ice Abyss?
Recalling what the avatar of the God of Wind and Snow had said when he set out, he would face three important choices, and his actions would be judged by the avatars of the God of Ice and Snow and the God of Cold Wind.
What on earth were those so-called important choices?
"What's your name?"
"Velin." Velin put down the wooden bowl, looked