Between the Central Continent and the Frozen Northern Wastes ran a long chain of snow mountains stretching east to west.
Snow fell year-round; sunny days were rare.
“This must be the fabled Great Snow Mountain,” Lu Yang said, standing at the foot of the range.
He shaded his eyes and gazed up; through the thick, swirling flakes a majestic, pure-white peak lay before them like a sleeping giant.
“It’s not really that legendary — it’s just that the place is so remote that hardly anyone comes,” Lan Ting said with a laugh.
That was humble talk.
The Moon Laurel Immortal Palace was a half-hidden immortal sect, rarely dealing with outsiders.
When the outside world wanted to contact the Moon Laurel Immortal Palace — to ask for help, publish tasks, hold righteous meetings, or gather the sects — they relied on the contact hall at the mountain’s base to relay messages.
There were, however, ways that didn’t require messages.
Outsiders could sometimes go straight to the Palace — as Lan Ting was doing with Lu Yang.
In common parlance, it was called using a back door.