Victor groaned again but sat up properly before they resumed their journey.
The terrain they crossed was treacherous—
Storms brewed in distant skies, and occasionally, they'd spot grotesque beasts roaming below in valleys littered with the remnants of old battlefield ruins.
By the afternoon of that first in-game day, Tarkos slowed near a ravine and motioned for silence. Down below, a cluster of rogue cultivators wearing mismatched robes stood in a half-circle, clearly in the middle of a deal.
Victor's eyes narrowed as he spotted one of them pulling out vials that shimmered with what looked like compressed soul energy.
"Smugglers," Tarkos muttered. "Same kind I used to roll with."
Victor gestured to circle them. "Let's rough them up?"
"Too many for a frontal assault. Not if we want to reach Yinfrost City before next week." Tarkos tilted his head. "Unless... you have an idea."
