Judging from their trajectory, the group of dwarves were actually heading towards the side canyon of Frostwhisper Rift.
Mark quickly compared the map in his mind and found that it was the southwest valley!
It's not a panic escape!
It was the execution of a pre-planned plan!
Clear goals, different directions!
This is fucking taking advantage of the chaos to divide the troops!
It was not until these people cleverly escaped from the gaps in the extreme ice storm one by one that Mark realized his shortcomings as an outsider.
The extreme ice storm is not as scary as it looks. As long as the angle is right and a little bit of strength is available, one can safely pass through the storm.
Of course, there is a prerequisite for this, which is that you cannot carry a large amount of supplies.
If you want to drive a carriage across the extreme ice storm, it would be a bit disrespectful to the God of Nature.
But the key point is that Mark didn't even think about helping the Black Anvil Church deliver the supplies safely!
If possible, he wanted to catch up with the divided troops and see what they were going to do!
At this time, Mark really missed his elder sister Monica who usually looked around with red eyes.
Under normal circumstances, she only needed to glance at the incoming storm to offer the team several options for safe passage.
However, all Mark saw on his system panel was a full screen of [Ice Storm]...
It's true that you only regret not having enough when you need it!
Mark's heart sank slightly.
The main force of the Black Anvil Church (or the actual supply team that was going to the "main battlefield of Frostwhisper Rift") seemed to be struggling to resist in the center of the storm.
It was more like they were struggling to hold on under the brute force of the storm, trying to keep their formation from being blown away.
This further highlights the lightness and skill of those who have left the team. After all, the main members of the supply team are mostly icefield wanderers with non-combat professions.
The storm roared for about half an hour, or perhaps only a dozen minutes, and finally began to weaken like the ebbing tide.
The vision returned to some gray.
The convoy "lost" more than one-third of its people and a small amount of supplies. The remaining people on the scene looked like they had just been dug out of a snowdrift, in a miserable state, gasping for breath as if they had survived a disaster.
The leading Black Anvil dwarf warrior shouted out the names of the soldiers, trying to rally them, his face filled with impatience and a hint of barely perceptible relief.
As if he had known this would happen.
Mark held Xiao Mu and stayed in the home team steadily.
Like a truly frightened homeless man, he used his hands and feet to help pick up the scattered supplies, making himself even more inconspicuous.
Since we can’t find any other teams for the time being, we might as well go with the flow and follow the main group first.
As the saying goes, food and supplies must be sent before troops move.
There's no way they won't consume these supplies, they'll be exposed eventually!
After the storm completely subsided, the convoy did not stay for long, but instead sped up at the urging of the Scar Dwarf.
We trekked for most of the day on a huge ice field covered with a thick layer of ice, with only low ice vegetation stubbornly poking out.
On the way, Mark keenly sensed that the cold energy field in the air was gradually beginning to undergo subtle changes.
There was an additional sense of profound precipitation, as if the chill came from deep underground, more... sticky and heavy than ordinary ice.
When the sky turned dim again, the huge main force of Black Anvil arrived at a huge leeward col surrounded by several low icebergs.
This place is away from the main wind direction, the snow layer is relatively thin, revealing the gray-black frozen soil foundation.
The advance team has cleared out a campsite using large snowmelt runes.
A huge pile of frost-marked potatoes was stacked like a small hill in the center of the camp, and dozens of boxes of "belly-warming stones" that emitted a faint heat were carefully guarded and placed in a core area surrounded by several simple tents.
The air was filled with oppressive busyness and tension.
Mark huddled in a corner close to the potato pile, watching all this silently.
After resting for a night in the semi-underground cellar dug in the camp, the cold seemed to penetrate into the bones.
At dawn the next day, the people from the Black Anvil Church drove Mark and his group of hired workers to set off, and they moved forward in an even deeper chill.
When the huge team arrived at the designated location, the scene before them made Mark's heart tremble slightly.
This place is very close to the edge of the Frostwhisper chasm, and the biting wind blowing through the valley is like an invisible ice whip.
But on this frozen land close to the abyss, a bustling scene has already unfolded.
It is estimated that there are two to three hundred people working hard here.
Swinging pickaxes, chiseling stones, carrying huge rough stone blocks...
The air was filled with heavy breathing, the crisp sound of metal hitting rock, and the shouts of the overseers.
Mark hunched his back and carried a cold stone. His seemingly cloudy eyes scanned the scene sharply under the cover of his lowered hat brim.
In just a moment, he confirmed a fact.
There are at least ten people on this construction site. The dexterity of their movements, the way they exert force, and the precision with which they handle materials are definitely not those of ordinary laborers!
That is a special action that only professionals such as "Stonemason", "Civil Engineer" and "Construction Engineer" can possess.
While being stable and efficient, it also has a subtle sense of rhythm given by engineering.
It's not that Mark looks down on the Arctic Ice Field. Professionals like him usually go to the rich kingdoms in the central continent after changing jobs.
Whether it is humans or orcs, they will not turn a blind eye to such talents.
After all, the same identity can be treated completely differently in different places.
Now this group of professionals is working with the unique permafrost of the ice field and some black rock formations mined on site that contain faint magical fragments.
It is obvious that they are building a prototype of a war preparation facility that has both defense and certain functions.
"Hurry up!" A small leader in black iron plate armor stood with his hands on his hips, spitting as he called out to the hired workers, "See? We need this 'Watchtower' urgently, and the wages for you are high!
"The rest of the group is still on the way, you're the third! Don't say I'm giving you a hard time! Half a month! The elders have given us a strict order, the main structure must be built within half a month! We've already provided you with money and security. Anyone who dares to slack off will be thrown down to feed the ice ants!"
Overwatch Barrier?
Mark memorized the new words, and the doubts in his heart grew thicker and thicker like the permafrost on the ice field.
Moving bricks and carrying stones, mixed with sweat and panting.
Mark took advantage of a chaotic gap in the handover of supplies, and his body swayed slightly, as if he had stumbled on a stone edge. He then slipped behind a pile of broken rocks while holding the stone.
With the cover of the pile of rocks, he quickly adjusted his posture, allowing Xiao Mu to transform into a blanket that wrapped his body and turned it into a gray-black mottled invisibility cloak of frozen soil on the icy plain.
Then, like a wisp of smoke blown away by the wind, he made a few imperceptible turns and quietly passed through the surveillance gaps left by several Black Anvil guards on the periphery who seemed to be patrolling but were actually sleepy and lazy.
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