The long years passed in the flick of a finger. The wind blew fiercely, and the snow fell thicker from the sky.
Purple Frost Mountain was noticeably taller than before.
Cold eagles constantly swept through the surrounding area, sometimes plunging into the snowfield, sometimes flying toward the Northern Frost Kingdom, leaving trails of spiritual light that lingered long after they passed.
Several cultivators concealed themselves on the snowfield, not daring to advance any farther.
"We can't go any farther. The demonic beasts in the Cloud-Silver Snowfield are getting harder and harder to kill," the cultivator leading them said with a sigh.
"Who knows what happened seventy years ago? These demonic beasts have gathered so closely together. Even if treasures litter the land beyond the Northern Plains, we still need to be alive to collect them!" The other cultivators nodded in agreement.
"But if that weren't the case, why would the Cold Frost Sect, a mighty sect formed from the merger of two sects, ever let us enter the Cloud-Silver Plain?" Even so, one cultivator was unwilling to leave just like that.
They had already taken considerable risks venturing deep into the snowfield. Retreating now would mean leaving without a single gain.
"We just need to avoid Purple Frost Mountain," that cultivator continued, pointing in another direction and proposing a detour.
In his view, almost all the demonic beasts in the Cloud-Silver Snowfield had gathered near Purple Frost Mountain. As long as they evaded the cold eagles' patrols, plenty of treasures awaited them farther on.
They had come because another cultivator had crossed Purple Frost Mountain and returned laden with spoils.
And that cultivator had only been a rogue cultivator at the peak of Foundation Establishment.
With two Purple Palace cultivators and three Foundation Establishment cultivators among them, how could they