Malin felt that for an ordinary adventurer or a tech hunter, every second would be a countdown to collapse. "Another route is by water. The river north from Stafford is narrow, so no great fish of a different kind can enter. Our reconnaissance team managed to reach the Old Capital by boat, but it was already nighttime. The land was full of wraiths, so our people quietly lowered the sails, letting the boat drift back with the current." Malin nodded—this was the work of a veteran. Knowing that wraiths are highly sensitive to the actions of the living, they used drifting to escape that haunted place. Anyone foolish enough to use a paddle would likely find a wraith on board ready to dance with them in no time. "So, once we reach Stafford, I will walk that roadway myself. If it’s truly dangerous, we’ll take the water route. But considering the timing upon entering the city, we must choose a time carefully, ideally leaving before nightfall," Malin said, looking at everyone, "You all can add details to the plan." This planning session took all night, but for the legendaries, it was no big deal. The next morning, the team was gathered together. Food supplies this time didn’t need to be carried by someone. Malin activated his network and stored the entire resupply, allowing everyone to focus on carrying only equipment and bullets. The person in charge had some reservations about not taking his people north, but seeing Malin’s team each armed with a semi-automatic Christmas tree, he kept quiet. They had only recently acquired semi-automatic weapons, believing they were the most authoritative hunters here. Who could have thought he would encounter a dragon from overseas? Malin also felt it was unfair not to include a guide from them, so he decided to bring along three younger brothers. The person in charge happily selected three of the best hunters from their camp—three of the six who bravely sailed to the Old Capital before. The other three had no issues—they had served in North America for five years and were sent back to pass on their survival skills to newcomers. Malin assigned them a Thainan elf—a guide who communicated in his native language, albeit at a faster pace than the common tongue. The team took the boat northward and did not enter the city upon landing—Newport News has an underground city zone, and even after several clearings of zombies, the spirits realized it was futile, so they gave up. Now, aside from bringing new recruits weekly for practice, they all moved northward along Newport News’s main street. With a strong team presence, the few zombies in the area fled upon seeing the terrifying bipedal apes, allowing a peaceful passage. Meanwhile, Malin listened to the elves chat. Except for Malin and the elves, the rest of the legendaries were like ducks hearing thunder. At least the pace was maintained, and these three elves knew the terrain well—where swamps are, where territory-owning spirits lurk, where cannibalistic aberrations disguise themselves... Oh, the latter wasn’t a problem anymore, as Malin had just turned a cannibal tree into a torch with a seven-layer enhanced lightning strike. The unfortunate tree-type aberration would surely regret not being born with legs. Once burned, the elves happily dismantled the dead tree, retrieving many materials from it. Although these were elven specialties, humans might only start studying them today—meaning no one had known their uses until now. Malin didn’t mind, considering these materials a reward for the elves’ efforts in guiding them. It’s said that this area was once a park forest before the apocalypse, and after the disappearance of humans, it became densely forested, allowing the elves to thrive. Soon, the team reached what the elves called the great ruins—Malin shook his head, seeing the collapsed bridge piers ahead. "It’s snowing." As Onor said this, the snowfall intensified. Malin sighed, noting that today’s weather forecast must be the most stressful job. He then ordered the team to rest here for the day. The snow was so heavy that even the elves couldn’t see beyond 100 meters, so continuing forward was out of the question. If anything haunting appeared, Malin could hardly become a mother hen. Thus, the team reached the overpass area, where previous elven visits had transformed the ruins into an operational rest stop. Although crowded now, Malin’s spell formation adjustments made it sufficient for everyone to shelter from the wind and snow temporarily. Of course, a gnome legend set mines in hard-to-monitor spots. Anything crossing them would face hundreds of steel balls, even wraiths not gaining the upper hand. A wraith detector would activate upon a wraith’s approach—a spherical device emitting strong positive energy pulses positioned four meters above ground by a launcher. All wraiths in this kill zone must survive the 5-second light emission. Fearless of the snow, Malin observed the sky from the top of the bridge pier, discovering similarities to Carterburg. He was convinced that the sacrificial rituals of the past had indeed profoundly impacted this area. "Your Highness, what do you think?" Nuo Oakshell, having reached the top, stared at the snow: "It reminds me of Carterburg. What do you think?" "I think so too. Perhaps the closer we get to the Old Capital in the north, the more we’ll face such harsh weather." Malin replied, then glanced at the guides, confirming this snowstorm had nothing to do with the seasons but was rather whimsical. There was nothing Malin could do—the storm interfered with teleportation. He could open a portal to move people into the network but not back in weather . So, they waited a full day. By the afternoon of the next day, when the weather cleared, the team set out again. Malin and the gnome retrieved their equipment. Although the mines for wraiths remained untouched, one physical mine was missing, but no one, including Malin, heard any explosion. The only suspicion left was that the mine was consumed by an original rift. Considering the rift’s presence, the overpass might be a rift zone, so the area’s danger level was adjusted upward, and everyone moved on. Following the ancient road, they saw signs of nature reclaiming human land, but here, the forest was denser. With the previous day’s snowfall, the entire forest seemed eerily silent. No one spoke along the way, and the eldest of the guiding elves took the lead with the Thainan elf. As they neared a half-collapsed building ruin, the scout stopped, discussed briefly with a companion, then looked at Malin: "Your Highness, we believe this ruin has shifted several meters south." "Got it." Malin nodded and fired a barrage of Flame Burst spells. The next second, the exploded ruin screeched to life—like the tree aberration, the building had mutated. This surprised Malin greatly—such aberrations were unheard of in the Westland. The building didn’t seem affected by Flame Burst, so Malin pulled out a big tube—a 120mm rocket launcher, equipment of the bear folk in the team, appearing rather large in Malin’s hands but launching smoothly. He fired a 120mm anti-tank grenade at the house spirit, which cluelessly charged at them. Then everyone watched as the house spirit was blasted to pieces—the flesh-transformed house spirit became a ground mass of flesh. Malin stepped forward, retrieved a completely mutated fetus, and flicked it away, reducing the hopeless deformity to ash. "What is this?" Onor approached. "A tragic combination of a deformity and a building." Malin sighed, then glanced at a distant high slope. A leopard was observing them and turned away upon noting Malin’s attention. In this damned world, one must be an opportunist to survive.