A dead person needed their corpse stored in an ice cellar to remain preserved for a long time.
But why would a living person who had not died also place himself within a frozen temple of ice and snow, remaining there for over a century?
This was the first question that arose in Lu Xiaofeng's mind after being brought into Sou Shen Gong.
He had never imagined that Sou Shen Gong was hidden underground beneath a dense forest, guarded by a group of expressionless, living-dead-like men.
After passing through a long corridor, there was an underground complex resembling a world of ice and snow—a temple sculpted from ice and jade, perpetually shrouded in dreamlike, freezing mist.
A great number of blank-faced people knelt in worship toward the curtain at the end of the temple, as though the person behind it was the most exalted being in heaven and earth.
In Lu Xiaofeng's eyes, even their gazes were utterly vacant. It was as though they had lost all emotion and feeling, leaving only lifelike shells that worshipped in the plaza of this ice-carved temple day after day, year after year.
The sight made Lu Xiaofeng's scalp crawl. The relaxed confidence he had felt when he proclaimed himself clever enough to enter the temple vanished without a trace, replaced by regret and the urge to retreat.
"Trouble, trouble! I thought I'd succeeded in outsmarting them this time and wasn't going looking for trouble anymore. But now it seems I've found myself another massive problem. There are so many puppet-like people here. If they're all guards, Sikong Zhaixing won't be able to get in at all, and I might not be able to get out either."
Held up by two wooden-faced burly men, Lu Xiaofeng could not move at all. Only his eyes