The crackling of firewood in the cabin's fireplace echoed, and its orange glow illuminated the interior.
The room was unlit, the outside chill whistled through the windows nonstop, and dusk was approaching. The snow was pure white, with temperatures nearing negative 10 degrees Celsius.
This was Yin Country's northern border, on the main peak of the Silver White Mountain Range, the Peak of Immortals.
The wooden cabin was situated near the peak, only accessible by a narrow trail that just allowed for foot traffic.
Zhao Ling, clad in a thick down jacket and a winter hat, with goggles and a scarf protecting her cheeks, trudged up the mountain path alone.
Passing by the remains of a dilapidated temple, she pulled out her thermos, unscrewed the lid, and a stream of warmth wafted out.
She lowered her scarf, took a sip, and continued on her way.
After nightfall, the mountains were eerily silent and pitch-black, but she moved with ease, having already found this secluded cabin.
