"That's the place."
Louis crouched half-hidden behind the high cliff, his gaze piercing through the thin mist, firmly locking onto the distant cliff plateau.
Behind him were dozens of knights, all official knights and elite knights, looking in the same direction.
Vines clung like spider webs between the icy rocks, with blue-green leaves glinting faintly in the morning light, clusters of buds quietly blooming, exuding a somewhat alluring beauty.
This was the Frost Leaf Vine, and it was thriving to an unusually rare extent.
"It's really... overgrown," Louis murmured softly, although there was an irrepressible excitement in his eyes.
But before he could say more, a low and eerie snoring suddenly came from within that patch of vines.
"Hoo... hoo—thud."
"What the hell is that..." Weir exclaimed in surprise.
"Look carefully," Lambert's voice was calm. "Eight whole Snow River Mad Bulls, all nestled under those vines sleeping."
Everyone instantly held their breath.
