The cold frost swept across every inch of the land, freezing everything that had life. Whether it was plants or animals, they were all treated equally here, forming ice sculptures.
Ling’s silvery-white figure stepped through the ice storm, as if he was a Lord inspecting his own land. He was filled with a sense of majesty and inviolability.
“Ta, ta, ta.”
Stepping past the ice sculptures on the side, Ling continued to walk forward with a cold expression. Behind him, there were at least seven or eight small-sized ice sculptures of the Tibetan chieftain monkeys.
They still maintained their postmortem posture. They covered their heads with their hands, opened their mouths, and widened their eyes. Their eyes revealed a hint of fear, as if they had encountered something extremely terrifying.
