Falling Star Valley, a rogue cultivator organization

With a deafening boom, three massive black ships, like steel fortresses, slowly came to a halt on the thick ice near the edge of Cold Crow Island.

The crimson runes beneath their hulls gradually went dark. Huge black iron anchors, trailing chains as thick as a man's arm, were hurled down by the winches, biting deep into the solid ice and securing the ships firmly in place.

This was a natural inlet on the southern side of Cold Crow Island, backed by towering black cliffs that sheltered it from the Far North's fiercest northwesterly baleful winds.

"All hands, listen up!"

Guan Shan, the expedition leader, stood atop the deckhouse. His gaze swept over the hundred-odd rogue cultivators below, who could no longer contain themselves and were staring at the island like hungry wolves. His voice was cold and hard as iron:

"The guild will rest and refit here for three days! At noon three days from now, the fleet will weigh anchor on schedule and set sail for the next stop."

"During these three days, you may explore the island, mine ore, and hunt demons freely."

"The rules remain the same: if you wish to bring your gains back aboard, hand over thirty percent. If you encounter danger, crush your travel token. Within a ten-mile radius, the guild's rescue team will intervene as circumstances permit—of course, rescue isn't free!"

"We wait for no stragglers! Disembark!"

With a sweeping gesture from Guan Shan, an opening split the formation's light screen that held back the wind and snow. Several heavy gangway ladders crashed down from both sides of the ships.

The rogue cultivators already waiting on deck did not hesitate. They scattered like startled birds and beasts, racing one another toward the island's exposed rocky mining grounds.

To them, time was spirit