I have to say that the craftsmanship of the residents of Osborne Town is really amazing.

This was the best beef jerky he had ever eaten in his life, at least that's how it felt now.

He tore and chewed with his teeth numb from the cold.

The hard, cold piece of meat rubbed against the esophagus and slid down into the stomach, which seemed to be frozen solid.

It brought a cramping dull pain, but also slowly burned precious heat and strength.

Time lost its meaning in the windowless ice house, and I lay there motionless for who knows how long.

Mark felt that his limbs finally regained some sense of existence and were no longer numb lead blocks.

The muscles still ached, but the bones no longer creaked.

He supported himself on the dry moss beneath him, moving little by little, like a patient who had just experienced paralysis, and slowly sat up.

His eyes swept over this strange ice house again.

This time, he saw more clearly.

A faint blue starlight seeped from within the walls, softly illuminating the simple furnishings.

The place where he had just been lying was covered with thick star moss, which also smelled of rotten plants, and several skins of unknown beasts, the edges of which had been worn to a shine.

This was obviously a rough bed made of frozen soil and reinforced with magic.

A short but thick ice hardwood table with uneven edges, on which lay a few broken clay cups and a few black stones that looked like mineral samples.

In the corner were piled several mining picks and hammers, their edges almost worn away but still in good condition.

On the walls hung several short robes made of thick fur, stained with oil and ice.

It looks like the typical furnishings of an ordinary dwarven miner's residence.

Rugged, practical, and bearing the marks of years of dealing with cold and rocks.

However, this typical dwarf dwelling shape forms an extremely strong contrast with the house itself, which is built with mysterious and deadly blue ice.

It's like stuffing a broken-down kerosene lamp into a palace of diamonds.

The only special thing is that there is a thick pillar made of blue ice standing in the middle of the house. The starlight flowing inside the pillar is even more intense, and it seems to connect the roof and the ground, leading to other places outside.

Mark's gaze finally rested on the closed door.

It was a seemingly simple and heavy wooden door, deeply embedded in the blue ice door frame.

He took a deep breath, and the cold air mixed with dust, mildew, the smell of animal hides and the indescribable cold stardust smell emitted by blue ice rushed into his lungs, bringing a stinging sensation, but also dispelling the last bit of drowsiness.

Xiao Mu moved slightly, making a weak but steady "Hmm...", as if reminding him that Xiao Mu was supporting him from behind.

Mark's eyes narrowed, and he finally mustered up the strength to support himself on the cold edge of the bed and stand up steadily.

His steps were still a little unsteady, but he took a few steady steps and came to the tightly closed alloy door.

After a brief pause, Mark stretched out his hand, which had not yet fully recovered its strength, and placed it on the textured door handle.

The heavy wooden door made a low and slightly stagnant friction sound under Mark's hand, and opened inward.

A gust of air, carrying the smell of sulfur, burnt fur and wood ash, but slightly warmer than the inside of the igloo, blew in his face, mixed with dozens of instantly focused gazes, full of fear and scrutiny.

The scene outside the igloo reflected in Mark's wine-red eyes.

This is a rugged cave space composed of huge uncarved black ice rocks and jagged protruding ancient blue icicles.

It is much more spacious than the ice house, but is still shrouded in the ubiquitous dark starlight.

In the center of the cave, several bonfires were burning weakly, and the edges of the flames were an unnatural light blue, struggling to fight against the deep chill emanating from the cave walls and the figures sitting on the ground.

There were about thirty or forty gray-bearded dwarves, tightly wrapped in thick but obviously old and damaged animal skins.

However, the thick fur covering their entire bodies could not completely conceal the heart-wrenching changes on their bodies.

Under the firelight and the faint blue reflection of the ice wall, between the gaps of the animal skin hood and the thick collar was a dark blue skin with a texture as rough as black ice!

On the exposed sturdy arms, cracked ice crystals protruded like rough armor, and tiny starlight flickered inside the ice crystals, emitting a cold and dead glow, forming a strange interweaving with the campfire.

Their shoulder armor, elbows, and even the side of their faces were covered with this continuously growing star-blue crystal that originated from deep within their flesh and blood.

This is so similar to the bound violent people Mark saw before!

But the biggest difference lies in their eyes.

Those eyes hidden under the hood and the shadows of rough ice crystals were not filled with madness and chaos.

They looked exhausted, as if they had been ground by ten thousand years of ice, covered with scarlet bloodshot and deep wrinkles, revealing the lingering mark of pain.

Yet, at their core, they are awake!

Like the brief eye of a storm, with a sharpness and vigilance that has settled after suffering hardships, it is now focused on Mark, the intruder.

The look was not fierce, but full of rock-hard vigilance and the cold scrutiny of a warrior facing the unknown.

Mark subconsciously concentrated his soul perception, which had not yet fully recovered after being over-consumed, to taste it, but what he got in return was a tenacious will as deep as the permafrost.

Chaos is compressed at the bottom, dominated by an almost solidified clarity of survival in desperate situations.

Look at the system status bar of these dwarves.

There was nothing abnormal, and it seemed that there was not even any abnormal state.

All the dwarves looked at Mark who came out of the igloo.

Mark also looked at all the dwarves curiously.

In this suffocating silent confrontation, a figure slowly stood up beside the campfire.

He was also wrapped in thick animal skins, but when he stood up and the skins fell naturally, the part of his body that was revealed was completely different from that of the other dwarves.

His hair and beard were pure, uncorrupted, the grayish color of rock.

Just like Enzo's original appearance, his intricately braided beard falls to his chest.

On that face with deep wrinkles, like an ancient rock plate, there was not a single star-blue ice crystal!

The old skin was a weathered khaki color, with only deep wrinkles and traces of time. At this moment, it was a little pale due to the cold.

Only his eyes, with gray-blue pupils like two pieces of ore containing the embers of the earth's core furnace, were vicissitudes and fatigue, but as sharp as an old pickaxe, firmly locked on Mark.

He was the only being who retained his flesh and blood in this icy blue despair, like a lone peak standing firm in the raging ice storm.

As the old man stood up, the dwarves sitting around the campfire all tensed up slightly without noticing.

They had no weapons in their hands, but their tense posture and suddenly more focused gaze were the clearest warning.