The dizziness of teleportation had not entirely faded when a wave of bitter cold struck.
The instant Cui Ciyou opened his eyes, an endless expanse of white filled his vision.
With a Teleportation Magic Circle available, they had naturally taken the quickest route.
This was the northernmost tip of the Central Continent, farther north and more remote than even the Magic Principality's Northern Territory.
If the Magic Principality merely lacked summer but still had spring, autumn, and winter,
then here, winter lasted all year round.
At that moment, the wind came howling from the far end of the snowfields like countless sharp blades scraping bone, whipping ice crystals into the air.
The sky was a cold, indifferent grayish white, almost transparent.
Snow covered this land year-round.
It was a place so harsh that life itself was a luxury.
Yet upon this deathly silent icefield, an aura-no, something better called a "will"-pierced the heavens with stubborn, domineering force.
It was a kind of... "sharpness," or perhaps a "sword": nothing but pure Sword God Style battle aura.
A keen-edged will, pure to the utmost extreme.
"Hoo... hah..."
Standing beside Cui Ciyou, Alice Greyrat trembled slightly.
Though it was bitterly cold, that was not why she trembled.
Her cheeks flushed an unnatural red amid the ice and snow, while an almost frenzied fire burned in her crimson eyes.
Alice gripped her sword hilt tightly, her knuckles white from the force.
"This... is... the Sword Sanctum." Her voice was hoarse, charged with a pilgrim's excitement.
Indeed.
For the swordsmen of this world, this place represented the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
It was the ultimate hall that countless swordsmen spent their entire lives yearning to reach.
Whether you practiced the Sword God Style, Water God Style, or North God Style, whether you were royalty, nobility, or