Daoist Chu crouched and picked up a handful of snow, letting it melt in his palm. "Pure elemental ice qi," he said after a moment. "There's no natural source of this nearby. It was created."
Lin Mu extended his hand, feeling the faint pulse of energy in the air. The frost qi was concentrated in specific patterns, not random as natural weather would produce. Someone had shaped it deliberately, and recently too.
"This place was not always like this," Monk Hushu said quietly. "The reports from just a month ago described it as a wet ravine, rich in medicinal herbs and forest game."
Daoist Chu's eyes narrowed as he peered into the distance. "Look there."
Across the ravine, faint shapes could be seen through the falling snow. Dozens of blackened structures—burnt carriages, broken merchant wagons, and collapsed tents—lay scattered along the frozen banks. The aftermath of the bandit attack was clear.
