Ang rode a Magic Broom, draped in a white cloak, suppressing his aura to the utmost limit.
The broom floated slowly over the snow, neither too fast nor too slow, like a ghostly shadow in the snowy night.
Ang deliberately reduced the broom's magical fluctuations, keeping its speed no faster than an ordinary person's walk to avoid drawing any possible attention.
The sky gradually darkened, and the vast white snow glimmered with a cold radiance in the twilight.
Occasionally, a few snow rabbits poked their heads out from the drifts, gave him a wary glance, then swiftly vanished beneath the snow again.
From time to time, Ang stopped to adjust his direction, holding an exquisite magical compass in his hand.
The compass needle trembled faintly, always pointing toward the elusive dark aura ahead.
By the time night had completely shrouded the plateau, Ang finally arrived at a sheltered gorge.
Steep rock walls rose on both sides of the gorge, while snow had piled thickly at the windward entrance, resembling a desolate, deathly white graveyard.
Ang did not approach rashly. Instead, he circled above the gorge, found cover behind a massive boulder, lay prone in the thick snow, and slowly took out a telescope to carefully observe the situation within.
The gorge was dimly lit, and faint fluctuations of dark magic filled the air.
Amid the blurred shadows and light, several squads of Dark Heavy Armor Warriors patrolled back and forth. Their steps were steady and orderly, their weapons gleamed coldly, and they gave off an oppressive aura.
"Dark Heavy Armor Warriors... These people aren't the sort ordinary people can gather." Ang frowned slightly as he pondered inwardly.
He observed them carefully for a long time and discovered that there were quite a few of them—roughly estimated, nearly a hundred.
What