"Who can say for sure? Perhaps this time, I'll be left behind too." The old man's tone was calm.
The atmosphere was somewhat oppressive.
They hadn't even entered the Abyss yet, but everyone had already witnessed its harshness.
The eight of them found an inn and tied their horses in the stable.
"We don't accept hard ice here," the innkeeper's complexion was as pale as a film filter for leading actors, giving off a non-human vibe, "only supplies are accepted. Moreover, if you die in the Abyss, even if you crawl out with the identity of the dead, all the horses and packages will belong to me."
"Alright, but you must provide food and hot water for free." The elder said.
"Food is impossible, but hot water, plenty of it."
"It's possible," the old man smiled, "we have snow leopard meat, help us process it into jerky, and you can keep half of it."
