The short distance of two or three hundred meters was reached in the blink of an eye.

The whistling sound of the wind suddenly intensified, carrying a shriek that pierced the soul.

Mark leaned over and carefully climbed to the edge of the chasm.

Look down.

A magnificent visual impact comes to you!

Frostwhisper rift is well-deserved of its reputation.

This happened to be the narrowest section of the rift valley, with cliffs on both sides only a hundred meters apart, like a narrow wound made by a giant god's axe, sinking straight into the endless abyss below.

According to Mark's perception, this place is at least a thousand meters away from the bottom of the valley!

The valley walls are incredibly steep, almost vertical at ninety degrees!

The gray-black rock walls are stacked layer upon layer, eroded by the cold wind in the rift valley but still appear smooth and tough.

The sparse but extremely tenacious northern plants take root in the cracks of the rocks.

They no longer crawl low on the surface of the ice field, but instead stretch their twisted and gnarled branches upward with all their might.

A small shrub with sharp ice crystal leaves peeked out here and there among the steep rock walls, reflecting the thin sunlight and flashing a faint and strange blue-white light. It looked like some kind of rare magical plant.

Several coniferous trees, similar to the black snow pines but more twisted and short, grew out of the cracks in the rocks where there was almost no foothold. The trunks were shaped into strange spirals by the strong wind, and the vigorous needles were like frozen ice hedgehogs.

The white fog at the bottom of the valley was as thick as unmeltable milk and unfathomable.

Although he couldn't see the deeper scenery, Mark's soul perception could clearly "taste" a cold and precipitated breath that was much deeper and thicker than the entrance to the rift, as if it came from the extremely cold core of the underground.

This breath even formed an invisible force field, causing the howling wind through the valley to whistle even more miserably when it approached this narrow area.

Mark's eyes were fixed on the fog below.

If the legendary "Deep Furnace" branch of the Graybeard Clan is hidden at the bottom of this rift.

If the "Heart of the Falling Star" (regardless of whether it really exists) coveted by the Black Anvil Church and the forces of darkness and Star and Moon is at the bottom of the valley.

So, why did the Black Anvil Church expend such enormous manpower and resources to build a large-scale and obviously permanent structure called the "Watch Wall" here?

But what is even more contradictory is that the permanent fortifications are required to be completed within half a month?

Why are you so anxious?

Mark's mind raced.

The location of the fortifications is not at the entrance to the valley, but hanging on the top of this thousand-meter cliff!

There is no direct access to the valley bottom, nor is there any effective control over the entire wide area of ​​the rift valley.

Of course, if someone chooses to jump directly from here and give their opponent a crow-flying-on-a-plane move, just pretend Mark didn't say anything.

Its only advantage seemed to be that it was hanging right above the narrowest part of the canyon, where the aura of the cold earth veins nearby was most obvious.

The cold wind at the edge of the Frostwhisper rift was like a never-ending ice blade, scraping across Mark's stiff cheek.

He had been sitting in a hidden crevice not far from the Black Anvil Church construction site for half a day.

The soul's perception was extended to the maximum extent, repeatedly scanning the busy and noisy fortifications, the unfathomable rift below, and the increasingly sticky and heavy coldness of the earth veins in the air.

However, the harvest was meager.

The construction site was in full swing, with the behemoth called "Watch Barrier" being pushed forward. Workers were carrying stone blocks and compacting the frozen soil, while the Black Anvil Dwarf who was supervising them kept shouting.

He could "taste" the chaotic atmosphere of faith stubbornly entangled in the cold wind of the icy field, and could feel the hidden urgency of the Black Anvil Church's administrators, as hot as a red-hot iron.

One can even discern some of the lingering traces of "precision" and "sense of structure" that are unique to builders and civil engineers.

But why was this fort built?

Why does it hang over the narrowest part of the rift and the deepest part of the cold earth veins?

Mark's soul perception was like hitting an invisible ice wall.

The complex engineering structure, the huge energy flow, and the vague drawings and orders of the Black Anvil Church were like a tangled mess, making his head ache.

"Mmmmm..."

Xiao Mu poked his little head out from under his collar, and rubbed his cold chin listlessly with his pink tentacles. He was obviously bored by the long wait and unclear intentions.

The little fellow looked around boredly with his round eyes, and was soon attracted by a small cluster of ice crystal shrubs growing tenaciously on the cliff, which were shining with a strange blue and white light.

Xiao Mu stretched out his tentacles, carefully avoiding the sharp leaves, wrapped around a small berry as crystal clear as a sapphire, and gently pulled it.

The berries fell off the branches and were rolled back by the tentacles.

"Hmm!" It let out a slight sigh of satisfaction, then retreated deep into Mark's collar and began to taste it with relish.

Watching Xiao Mu eating the ice crystal berries, Mark's heart moved, and then he felt a mixture of helplessness and longing.

In the past, Xiao Mu always hid in Monica like this...

If it's Monica.

He could almost picture it clearly in his mind.

This elegant red-haired appraiser sister only needs to walk to the edge of the cliff, her wine-red eyes sweeping over the huge prototype of the construction site and the complex base structure, and her fingertips may gently stroke the corner of the cold stone slab.

It may only take a moment, and after the brilliance of the identification technique quietly flows, all the secrets will be exposed under the appraiser's almost plug-in identification panel!

"Leave professional matters to professionals..." This thought was like a beam of light that broke through the icy fog, suddenly lighting up Mark's mind.

He suddenly came to his senses and slapped his forehead in frustration.

"Tsk, you're getting stuck in a rut, aren't you?"

He suddenly understood.

What is the Black Anvil Church?

How could a small or medium-sized force entrenched in this desolate ice field, whose beliefs are so mixed and chaotic, have the spare money and energy to specifically train a group of professional and technical talents such as "stonemasons", "builders" and "civil engineers"?

Ninety-nine percent of these guys who are skilled but mixed in with the group of hired workers are hired from outside or forcibly recruited!

Since they are outsiders and are in this chaotic construction environment, they cannot be as tight-lipped as the core members of Black Anvil.

Their confidence in their own profession and their habitual discussions are the best breakthrough for Mark!

There is no need for them to know the complete conspiracy map.

As long as they are true professionals, you only need to take a few glances and listen to their complaints about the engineering structure itself and their doubts about the instructions on the drawings.

Mark could roughly figure out what this thing was ultimately used for, just like putting a puzzle together!

As for exposure?

It is perfectly normal for a down-and-out homeless man who is stunned by the cold wind and is freezing and just wants to find something warm to talk about to warm himself up and get a meal to eat, to go over and listen to the complaints of the craftsmen.