Having killed the beast, Han Yu stored only the falcon's core. Everything else he left behind. The corpse tumbled over the edge and disappeared into the fog below.
He took a breath and steadied himself before continuing down the path. His heart did not race, but he could feel the thinning thread of danger at his back.
The Middle Ring was not going to let him pass easily.
Han Yu descended the last stretch of the cliff with careful steps, using his halberd as a stabilizing pole every time a rock shifted beneath him. When he reached the ground, he exhaled lightly.
The air was unnervingly cold now. Before, the temperature dipped below zero only at night, but here it clung to his skin like a hungry parasite even in the daytime. The winds that swept between the carved valleys carried ice particles sharp enough to sting his cheeks, forcing him to use some Fire Spirit qi to protect against it.
But that wasn't the only issue.
