Han Yu stepped out of the inn and let the crisp mountain wind wash over him.
Harrow Edge Town sat at the base of the looming Harrow Mountains, a jagged range that seemed to claw at the sky like a slumbering beast. Dark peaks vanished into mist. The sunlight was cold, the air thin and biting.
Even before entering the mountains, the chill was enough to make mortal bones ache.
Han Yu exhaled slowly.
He had two goals here. First, prepare himself properly for the journey. Second, gather every scrap of information he could about the mountains.
He had heard many things. The mountains shifted unpredictably. Paths appeared and vanished. Blizzards formed without warning. Rogue cultivators stalked the foothills. Spirit beasts roamed freely, unrestrained by any sect.
This was not a place to wander into without preparation.
