The farther north they went, the quieter the world became.
This quiet was not merely a lack of sound, but a physical, heart-palpitating kind of "silence."
Before entering the ice plains, they could still vaguely hear the occasional birdsong and insect chirps drifting from the distant coniferous forests. Yet after crossing some unknown ice ridge, those sounds vanished completely, as though cut off by an invisible barrier.
In their place came the wind.
Eternal wind.
It did not gently brush against their faces, bringing coolness or chill.
It was more like an invisible blunt knife, honed from Ten-thousand-year Profound Ice, drilling into the gaps between their bones and sawing into the depths of their souls, stroke after unhurried stroke, yet never stopping.
It howled, yet strangely made very little noise, as though even sound had been frozen and swallowed by the extreme cold.
All they could feel was its bone-piercing touch, and the rapid process of their skin losing all sensation and turning numb.
The sun in the sky had long since lost its warmth and majesty.
It hung low in the gray-white heavens, looking like a... cheap incandescent bulb hanging inside the refrigerated compartment of a gigantic fridge.
It gave off a pale, feeble, lifeless glow, barely illuminating this world of ice and snow while providing almost no heat.
Sunlight spilled across the boundless snowfields and icebergs, reflecting blinding white light that carried a chill deep enough to seep into one's bones.
This was humanity's forbidden zone, a paradise for soul beasts, and the final resting place of countless adventurers—the Great Northern Ice Plains.
Han Yuchen unconsciously pulled tighter the thick fur coat wrapped around him, which had been tanned from the hides of several cold-resistant soul beasts.
The coat was enormously valuable, enough to bankrupt an ordinary soul