The defining trait of White Frost was its low temperature—around minus fifty or sixty degrees Celsius. It would not kill living creatures instantly, but an environment shrouded in White Frost was hardly suitable for production or life.
Geralt, dressed in only a single layer of clothing, was still shivering a little. However, his Witcher medallion was still vibrating, and knowing that he would soon find someone to play cards with kept his spirits high. Especially after drinking the liquor Deathstroke had given him, a faint heat seemed to rise from his body.
The Witcher World had decent liquor too, but it was still brewed through primitive methods. How could it compare to the purity shaped from Dark Quantum? After that sip, Geralt felt as though magma were churning in his stomach, and even the discomfort from overdosing on potions eased considerably.
Before leaving the previous battlefield, Su Ming controlled the darkness to devour the White Frost creeping across the ground. Only when not a trace of white remained on the ground near the river mouth did he feel satisfied.
Sure enough, river mouths were the best places for fishing. There were more microorganisms there, and thus more fish. Su Ming had even felt the urge to fish, but on second thought, he was on vacation to relax and have fun. If he started fishing in this multiverse, he would be falling straight into a pit.
Wanting to catch the Fish King but never being able to collect every species would drive a perfectionist insane.
Eulmore was an enormous coastal castle. It looked like a somewhat chubby mushroom-shaped tower, narrow at the bottom and broad at the top. Its many turrets were decorated with beautiful balloons of every color, along with gaudy, multicolored roofs.
The area surrounding the castle was a