"Spirit cultivators from Million Meng Mountain?" Brother Lan fell into thought as well.
Just then, Yu Meng entered carrying a wine jar, easily lifting it before Tu Hong.
"Oh? Where's the wine bowl?" Tu Hong took it, glanced at Yu Meng's empty right hand, and asked.
"I'll fetch it now!" Yu Meng said calmly, turning to leave.
"No need. Go back and rest," Tu Hong ordered in a low voice, a shadow crossing his face.
"Yes, Husband!" Yu Meng replied, then entered the crystal coffin again. She lay flat on her back and closed her eyes.
Clang, clang— Tu Hong shook the bell again, and Yu Meng immediately fell still, rigidly motionless.
"Let's go!" Tu Hong closed the crystal coffin's lid and turned to leave the tent.
Brother Lan did not dare delay and hurriedly followed him out.
Outside the tent, the cold was extraordinary. Tu Hong raised his head, narrowed his eyes at the pitch-black vault overhead, and after a long while, tipped back his head and took a swig of strong liquor before handing the wine jar to Brother Lan.
Brother Lan did not dare refuse. He tipped his head back and took a small sip as well, but kept hold of the wine jar rather than returning it to Tu Hong.
Tu Hong pointed overhead and said, "The spirit cultivators have already said that if this Tu had not spent a fortune years ago to bid for this fragment of a magic treasure called the Ice Mirror and used it to create this icy space; if this Tu had not placed Yu Meng in the crystal coffin the moment she died, then even with the secret arts of spirit cultivation, they could not have awakened her! Moreover, without Yu Meng's soul—or a soul exceedingly similar to Yu