The icefield in the deepest reaches of the Far Western Lands was utterly different from the places they had passed through before. The ice here was no longer gray-white, rough permafrost. It was an almost transparent, shadowy blue, like colored glass formed over hundreds of millions of years.
The Spirit Qi in the air was dense beyond measure. It flowed in a peculiar way, surging in like a tide one moment and retreating like a whirlpool the next, carrying an ancient, far-reaching rhythm.
As Zi Yan walked across the ice, a thoughtful glimmer flickered now and then in her brilliant violet eyes.
After two days of travel, the azure pillar of light soaring into the sky ahead drew closer and grew clearer.
The pillar shot straight from the ground into the clouds, casting the entire sky in a cold blue-green glow. The air around it twisted violently.
Following the markings on the map, Lin Ming skirted the last region thick with Spatial Rifts and finally reached the foot of the pillar.
There, a vast fissure split the icefield. It was roughly a hundred yards wide and too deep to fathom, with rich azure light welling up from below.
The ice along its edges was covered in dense, ancient patterns. They looked like remnants of a massive formation and gave off an obscure, age-old aura.
Lin Ming stood at the edge and looked down. Deep within that bottomless fissure, amid azure light so dense it had nearly turned solid, he clearly saw a pulsing glow.
It was about the size of a fist, a deep sapphire blue throughout, like a gemstone holding an entire ocean frozen inside it.
Space around the glow curved gently, as though supported by a tender hand, forming a natural barrier that shut everything else out.
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