Jiang Xuelan slowly walked to his side, standing shoulder to shoulder, and together they gazed at the solemn iceberg, toward the ancestral land that carried the Ice God’s lineage’s rise and fall, blood, tears, and obsessions spanning a thousand years.
The chill around her quietly softened, the murderous intent in her eyes faded away, leaving only a complex heart. After a long silence, she spoke softly, her tone filled with thousands of years of endurance and hope.
“The ancestral land of the Ice God lineage, where all the cultural and bloodline roots converge. We cannot let the divine race occupy and bully us forever, turning it into a forbidden land guarded by foreign races, suffering humiliation generation after generation.”
As she finished speaking, she slowly raised the Ice God Sword in her hand, its tip steadily pointing at the open, level, spiritual energy-rich, and hard-to-attack icy plain at the foot of the iceberg. Her gaze was resolute, her tone resolute and resolute, without the slightest hesitation.
“Right here, build a permanent base for the Ice God Palace on the spot, rooting ourselves in our homeland and no longer drifting.” Jiang Xuelan said.
Beside him, Bing Wuhen trembled all over, his eyes instantly burning with intense light, his breathing instinctively quickened as he hurried forward, his tone filled with disbelief and excitement.
“Palace Master, is that true? Can we really put down roots here, have our own legitimate base, and no longer have to hide and go into exile? ”
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