Mr. Death in the Steam World

Chapter 162 Beneath the Icefall

"The Path of Our Ancestors —"

Gregory crouched down and gently touched the words on the snow with his fingers.

"Legend has it that thousands of years ago, when the first followers of Lady Frostwinter built the holy site, they deliberately left a secret passage."

"The existence of this secret passage is only passed down orally by the high priests throughout the ages; there is no written record of it even in the religious scriptures."

He looked up at Moen with admiration.

"The snowflakes in your arms must be the help that the high priest entrusted to us through a secret method."

"Mr. Marcus, I express my sincere respect for you. You have such foresight, having already sought assistance from the High Priest beforehand."

Moen's questions were piling up.

These snowflakes were clearly given to him by Chloe. If that's the case, then why would they contain a secret passage known only to the High Priest?

In a daze, a female voice rang out.

The sound came from nowhere, intermittent, as if separated by thousands of miles, or by thousands of years.

It was ethereal and aloof; Moen clearly hadn't heard of it before, yet it carried an inexplicable sense of familiarity.

"Keep it up, Moen."

"I will always wait for you in Winterfell."

Moen suddenly raised his head and looked around.

The wind and snow continued, and everyone looked down at the words reflected in the snowflakes, no one showing any unusual expression.

Is it just my imagination?

"Phils," Moen said in a low voice, "did you hear anything just now?"

Phils looked up at him, puzzled.

"A sound? What sound?"

"Yes, it's the sound of someone talking."

"No." She shook her head and reached out to touch Moen's forehead. "Are you too tired? You look terrible."

Moen didn't explain, but simply shook his head and turned his gaze back to the fading words.

His intuition told him that the sound was no illusion.

Moreover, the voice said: I will always wait for you in Winterfell.

Waiting for you? What are you waiting for me for?

Have we met?

Moen suppressed the thought for the time being; now was not the time to think about such things.

"Icefall." He looked up, his gaze sweeping across the surrounding cliffs. "Where are the icefalls around here?"

Gregory stood up, looked around, and pointed northwest.

"Over there, on the other side of that mountain, I saw it when I was on patrol the night before last."

"Walk."

Moen strode in that direction, with Gregory and Fils close behind.

After taking a few steps, Gregory suddenly stopped and turned around to look at the battle priests behind him.

"Thor, you lead the team to stay on the front and launch a feint attack every half hour."

"Marcus, Ignis, and I'm going to check out the icefall."

Moen added, "When the enemy advances, we retreat; when the enemy camps, we harass; when the enemy tires, we attack; when the enemy retreats, we pursue. Let's play guerrilla warfare with them."

Everyone looked at Moen with astonishment: "Wow, I didn't know you knew about military strategy."

"It's just the wisdom of a great man, don't worry about it, the important thing is to get down to business now."

"clear!"

The priests nodded vigorously.

Gregory turned around and strode to catch up with Moen.

After turning a ridge, the sight before them made all three of them stop in their tracks.

An icefall cascades down a cliff hundreds of meters high.

As the water fell, it froze in the extreme cold, forming a curtain of countless ice pillars.

Sunlight filtered through gaps in the clouds, passing through the crevices of the icefall and refracting into a rainbow of colors.

It was so beautiful it seemed like a scene from another world.

But what truly concerned Moen was not the icefall itself, but the atmosphere surrounding it.

The demonic power here is more than ten times thinner than outside.

The crimson mist churned at the edge of the icefall, as if blocked by an invisible barrier, unable to penetrate the area.

However, now that the icefall has been found, where is the so-called ancestral path?

The moment my fingertips touched the ice, the snowflakes in my arms glowed again.

This time, the light was even more intense than before; icy blue light erupted from Moen's chest, illuminating the entire icefall as if it were daytime.

Under the glow of the snowflakes, the icicles seemed to come alive as they parted to the sides, revealing a narrow passage.

Gregory stood at the entrance of the passage, looked at the runes, and knelt down in reverence to pay his respects.

"The Path of Our Ancestors — This is the Path of Our Ancestors —"

His voice trembled slightly.

"Thousands of years ago, the first believers carried every brick and stone of the holy site to the top of the mountain along this road."

"Lady Frostwinter paved their way with ice and snow, drove away wild beasts with the cold wind, and illuminated their night with moonlight."

"No one has walked this road for thousands of years."

He took a deep breath and stepped into the passageway.

Moen followed behind Gregory, while Phils brought up the rear.

The passage was much deeper than expected. The further we went, the thicker the ice walls on both sides became, and the denser the ice overhead became.

Later, no light from outside could penetrate at all; only the glow of the snowflakes illuminated the path ahead.

The air is getting colder and colder.

That chill froze not only blood and muscles, but also thoughts, consciousness, soul, and even the very foundation of a person's existence.

The sacred fire suddenly ignited, dispelling the surrounding chill.

Strangely enough, despite the cold environment, Phils's flames burned even brighter.

The snowflakes around me seemed to sense the sacred fire, and their light shone even brighter.

Gregory was quite surprised to see this.

"Hey, Ignis, you wouldn't happen to have some connection with the God of the Hearth," he said.

Phils hesitated for a moment, then looked at Moen. When Moen nodded, she nodded as well.

"No wonder. No wonder your flames can dispel demonic power. No wonder your flames won't be frozen here."

Gregory looked as if he had just realized something: "The three chief gods, the God of Hearthfire, the Lady of Frostwinter, and the Father of Emerald, are well-known allies."

"stop."

Moen suddenly gestured for the two to stop.

In the darkness ahead, a massive ice gate stood at the end of the passage.

The door is more than two people tall and was carved from a single block of ice, with its surface covered with dense runes.

Those runes are the same as those on the ice wall, but more complex and more ancient, exuding a sense of vicissitudes that have lasted for thousands of years.

In the very center of the ice gate, there is a fist-sized indentation.

The concave shape is exactly like a snowflake.

Gregory stood before the ice gate, looking up at the runes, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word for a long time.

Moen stepped forward and took the snowflake from his pocket.

The snowflakes were slightly warm in his palm, as if urging him on.

Without hesitation, he pressed the snowflake into the indentation.

Perfectly fitted.

The light spread outwards from the depression, extending along the patterns of the runes, like a heart that had been awakened and was slowly beating.

Icicles fell from the lintel and shattered into dust on the ground.

The darkness that had been sealed for a thousand years was once again illuminated by light, and the door opened.

Behind the door was a simple and ancient-style teleportation array.

The three looked at each other, all knowing exactly where this teleportation array led.