A thick layer of ice fog shrouded the ice field, flowing slowly in mid-air and refracting the light of the three blazing suns into countless colorful beams, casting mottled light and shadow on the ice surface.
The beams of light danced and spun on the ice, as if they were alive, or as if some ancient formation was in operation.
Chen Ping’s divine sense probed into the icy mist, but as soon as it made contact, it was bounced back by an extremely powerful force of ice.
That power was not aggressive, but rather pure, primal, and devoid of any willpower—a chilling force.
It is not directed at anyone; it simply exists there, unchanging through the ages.
Anything that enters the range of the ice fog, whether living or non-living, will be eroded, frozen, and assimilated by this cold force, eventually becoming part of the ice field.
“The temperature here…”
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