Last night's blizzard had nearly buried every trace of the previous battle.
The biting mountain wind was still frigid, the temperature probably seventy or eighty degrees below zero, yet it alone lacked that terrifying Ice Spirit Energy.
Perhaps that was the greatest difference from the Great Snow Mountain region.
Over at Great Snow Mountain, once winter arrived, snowstorms filled the sky from dawn till dusk without pause. Wanting to see the sky, wanting to see the distance, was nothing but a dream.
But twenty thousand li away, when the snowstorm first subsided, one could still admire the wondrous sight of a snowy night bright beneath the vast sky, its cold light shining alone upon a solitary peak.
Wang Wu wedged himself into a crack between the rocks. Looking east, he saw endless ranges of mountains rising and falling, stretching beyond the reach of the eye.
Looking west, he saw a pitch-black expanse of land. But it was not land at all; it was all trees—the so-called Black Forest.
Trees elsewhere grew at most one or two hundred meters tall, but the ancient trees here could easily reach one or two thousand meters.
Each ancient tree was a mountain. Layer upon layer of branches spread outward like a thick sheet of earth, completely blotting out the ground. Day or night, everything beneath them was darkness.
That was how the Black Forest had gotten its name.
Wang Wu stared for a long while, and an inexplicable discomfort suddenly rose in his heart. It was as if the entire Black Forest had turned into an indescribable, unnameable gaping maw, waiting for him to enter so it could swallow him whole.
But after he withdrew his gaze and closed his eyes to regulate his breathing for a while, the uncomfortable feeling quickly vanished without