"Damn it, I've had enough of this godforsaken place!" a burly, bearded man complained impatiently. "We have to deliver things here every month. I don't get it, aren't those damn bastards afraid of the cold?"
"Listen, Ghost Qi, we're almost there. Can't you keep your mouth shut for a bit? If one of them hears you, it won't end well for you!" A lean man in his late thirties shot the burly man a glare.
"Actually, I think what Ghost Qi said makes sense. We're just vassals. Those people don't give a damn about us. They toss us a few scraps and expect us to treat it like treasure. This damned sect... frankly, I've had enough of it too!" another middle-aged man grumbled. He was fair-skinned and beardless, with a somewhat prosperous look, and though he complained, his pace didn't slow. It looked like they were walking on snow, but in reality, none of the three left any deep tracks.
