Outside the Kunlun Mountains.
Thirty miles away.
A group of people lit a bonfire in the snow, roasting two sheep.
The aroma was rich and emanated in all directions.
The craftsmanship wasn't bad.
"Whitaker Dog, are the old relics in the Kunlun Mountains really as strong as you say?" A bald strong man sat cross-legged in the snow, seemingly indifferent to the cold.
He tore into a lamb leg with his hands, completely unconcerned that it was still bloody, and took a bite!
Mumbling as he spoke: "They have quite the nerve, daring even to scheme against my Funeral Alliance!"
"The Kunlun Mountain people are decent! But they can't face so many helpers!" Whitaker Dog was somewhat helpless: "I, alone, cannot fight a crowd! If I could single-handedly take down the folks in the estate, I'd already be the Sect Hierarch. You'd have to kneel when you see me!"
