Snow drifted through the air, and the bitter cold was bleak and desolate.
Dragon Mountain stood thirty-six thousand meters tall. The first ten thousand meters were a scorching, high-temperature stretch, reaching as high as two thousand degrees Celsius. Between ten thousand and twenty thousand meters lay a freezing stretch swept by cold winds, with temperatures dropping as low as minus one hundred and twenty degrees Celsius.
One extreme of heat, one extreme of cold—enough to make most ordinary Soul Beasts and humans shrink back in fear.
Yet at this very moment, a figure took the lead, crossing the twenty-thousand-meter mark with remarkable ease.
Every ten thousand meters of Dragon Mountain marked a distinct dividing line.
After passing the twenty-thousand-meter elevation, Yang Ming was met with even thinner oxygen and violent gale winds.
These gale winds were no ordinary gusts. Every blade of wind contained a trace of the ultimate wind attribute. Invisible to the naked eye and completely transparent, they might rush straight at him from the front, strike suddenly from the side, or descend from overhead without warning, making them impossible to guard against.
At the same time, the closer one came to Dragon Mountain's summit, the sharper the gale winds encountered by climbers became.
At first, each gale wind was roughly thumb-width and rod-length, sharp as a small knife. As one drew nearer to the summit, their length and width steadily increased. In the end, they even reached the size of door panels, while their sharpness rose dramatically, transforming completely into ultimate wind. The cutting force rushing toward him made it feel as though he were trapped in a storm of execution blades, capable of tearing a person limb from limb.
Yang Ming's consciousness was attached to the Six Paths Puppet known as Black Dragon Di Tian. Even