One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

In July, Leshan is like a giant steamer, with even the river breeze carrying sticky heat.

Nie Lingfeng, carrying a backpack that was crammed almost to bursting open, was sweating profusely as he squeezed through the crowd. The backpack contained three bottles of mineral water, five bags of compressed biscuits, a compass (although mobile phone maps were more useful), a ten-meter-long nylon rope (a popular item on Taobao, advertised to hold 500 kilograms, but he dared not test it), and a well-worn copy of the third volume of the "Feng Yun" comic book—the classic chapter about Nie Feng's first encounter with the Fire Qilin.

"Excuse me, please move aside... Oops, who stepped on my foot!"

After overcoming numerous hardships, he finally squeezed his way to the railing of the platform at the foot of the Buddha. Looking up, the 71-meter-tall Maitreya Buddha statue looked down at him with a compassionate yet slightly imposing gaze. Sunlight streamed through the crevices of the rock formations surrounding the Buddha, as if it were plated with molten gold.

"What a huge Buddha..." Nie Lingfeng murmured, taking out his phone to take pictures. In the photos, tourists crawled around on the Buddha's toes like ants—one old man was trying to take a picture while holding the Buddha's big toe, a pose that seemed rather blasphemous.

After taking the standard tourist photo, Nie Lingfeng inexplicably clicked on a comic book screenshot in his album. In the picture, Nie Renwang and Duan Shuai were fighting on the Buddha's knees, and below the Buddha's feet was the entrance to the mysterious Lingyun Cave.

"In the comics, there's a Lingyun Cave at the foot of the Buddha..." he muttered, his gaze unconsciously sweeping around. "It was here that Nie Feng encountered the Fire Qilin and even drank its blood..."

Once this thought pops into your head, it's like the bubbles in a summer can of cola, bubbling and rising uncontrollably.

He began to slowly move along the railing, pretending to admire the scenery, but his eyes scanned every inch of the mountainside like searchlights. The railings, warning signs, and "Beware of Falling Rocks" signs—everything was disappointingly normal.

"Nie Lingfeng, oh Nie Lingfeng," he said to himself, "you're twenty-three, not thirteen anymore, how can you still believe those things in comics..."

Before he could finish speaking, he caught a glimpse of something unusual out of the corner of his eye.

To the left of the Buddha's feet, in front of the rock face completely covered by dense ivy, several tourists were taking turns taking photos. But when Nie Lingfeng observed it with his peripheral vision—it had to be peripheral vision, as looking directly at it would be normal—the outline of the rock face subtly distorted and rippled for a moment, like the heat waves on a summer street.

"Are you seeing things?" He blinked and looked again.

The ivy swayed gently in the breeze, while the rock face stood firmly and steadily.

But that feeling wouldn't go away. There seemed to be a very low-frequency vibration in the air, a buzzing sound that was barely perceptible unless you listened carefully, but after listening to it for a while, even your back teeth would ache. What was even stranger was that the noise of the surrounding tourists—children crying, tour guides' loudspeakers, camera shutters—became muffled as you approached that area, as if through a layer of water.

Nie Lingfeng glanced at the tourists around him. An old woman wearing a straw hat was pointing at the Buddha's feet and saying to her husband, "Old man, look, these toenails are bigger than our pot lid!" She was less than three meters away from the rock face, but she didn't look in that direction at all.

It was as if... everyone automatically ignored that corner.

Curiosity, like a kitten, gently scratched at his heart with its paws.

"Just one look," he told himself. "Just one look, and then I'll leave."

Taking advantage of the fact that no one was paying attention, he braced himself with one hand and flipped over the waist-high railing—the movement was more agile than he had imagined, thanks to the Sanda (Chinese kickboxing) elective he took in his university physical education class, although the teacher mainly taught them how to protect the back of their heads when they fall.

The leaves of the Virginia creeper brushed against his cheek, carrying the fresh scent of green plants. Nie Lingfeng parted the outermost layer of hanging vines, his fingers touching the rock face.

Cold, rough, typical sedimentary rock.

"I knew I was overthinking it—"

The words got stuck in my throat.

Beneath his palm, the texture of the rock was changing. Ripples spread outwards from the hard rock surface like water. It wasn't a visual illusion; he could clearly feel the strange sensation of the rock changing from hard to soft and then back to hard, like touching a giant, living jelly.

He pulled his hand back as if he had been electrocuted.

The ripples disappeared.

Nie Lingfeng stared at his palm for five seconds, then looked at the rock wall, and finally made an extremely foolish decision—he pressed his hand on it again, this time with a bit more force.

The rock wall responded to his expectations.

A circular area about one meter in diameter, centered on the palm of your hand, began to "melt." The bluish-gray rock faded to dark brown, then to a near-ethereal darkness. The solidity of the rock disappeared, replaced by the outline of a cave entrance, its edges gleaming with a faint, almost imperceptible light.

Above the cave entrance, three ancient characters slowly emerged:

Lingyun Cave

It's not carving, not writing; it's as if these characters "grew" out of the rock itself. The strokes are vigorous and domineering, each one as if cleaved by a burning axe, with tiny sparks remaining at the edges, flickering in the air.

Nie Lingfeng's mouth dropped open.

The brain instantly split into two camps. The rational camp screamed, "Holographic projection! Geological wonder! A new type of tourism project!" while the chuunibyou camp was filled with excitement: "It's real! Lingyun Cave! Fire Qilin! I'm going to become Nie Feng!"

The second-tier camp won with an overwhelming advantage.

He glanced back—tourists were still taking pictures, and the old lady was still gesturing with a pot lid and toenails. No one was looking at him, and no one was paying attention to the "melting" rock wall.

It's as if this cave entrance is only open for him.

"So be it..." Nie Lingfeng gritted his teeth and stepped inside.

hum.

A soft sound, like tinnitus, or like something being shut off.

He turned around abruptly.

The entrance was gone. Behind him lay a complete, moss-covered rock wall. He himself stood in a natural tunnel sloping downwards. On the rock walls on either side of the tunnel grew glowing, eerie blue fungi, like strings of strange nightlights, barely illuminating the path ahead.

All external sounds—the clamor of tourists, the honking of cars, the rushing of the river—have disappeared.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

Apart from……

despair.

Tap, tap.

The rhythmic sound of dripping water came from deep within the tunnel, each drop striking a nerve.

"Calm down, Nie Lingfeng, you need to calm down." He whispered to himself, his voice echoing briefly in the tunnel. "This is probably just an undeveloped cave. Yes, karst topography, there are many in this area of ​​Leshan... Those glowing mushrooms are probably some kind of bioluminescent fungus, I read online that they exist in Yunnan..."

As he muttered to himself, he pulled a flashlight from the side pocket of his backpack—a high-powered tactical flashlight, the number one seller on Taobao, with the slogan "Light up your path to survival in the wilderness."

Press the switch.

A white beam of light pierced the darkness, startling several unknown insects in the rock crevices, which fluttered away.

The tunnel was more spacious than I had imagined, with an irregularly arched ceiling reaching over ten meters in some places. The rock walls bore obvious signs of human carving, but the style was extremely rough and ancient, definitely not modern. The ground was relatively flat, covered with a thin layer of dust, and there wasn't a single footprint on it.

The air was exceptionally fresh, even carrying a faint scent of sandalwood mixed with grass, completely devoid of the musty smell and stuffy feeling often found in caves.

Nie Lingfeng took a few deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down, and started walking forward.

The tunnel was long, with so many forks that it resembled a maze. He dared not wander off, always choosing the widest and flattest path. As his flashlight swept across the rock walls, he would occasionally catch glimpses of blurry murals—human figures wielding swords, burning beasts, and crumbling mountains. The lines were so simple they were almost abstract, yet they exuded a raw, savage aura.

After walking for about ten minutes, the view suddenly opened up ahead.

It was a natural grotto, about half the size of a basketball court. In the center was a pool of water, its surface as still as a mirror, shimmering with a clear, cool light under the flashlight beam. Several stalagmites stood beside the pool, one of which was particularly thick and had inscriptions carved on its surface.

Nie Lingfeng moved closer, shining his flashlight beam onto the stone surface.

It was ancient seal script, most of which he didn't recognize, but he could make out a few characters by guessing: "Martial... Stop... Fierce..."

fierce?

His heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively shone his flashlight around.

There was nothing there. Only pools of water, stalagmites, rock walls, and stalactites hanging from the ceiling.

"I'm scaring myself..." he muttered, turning around to continue exploring.

At that very moment—

I caught a glimpse of red out of the corner of my eye.

It wasn't the ochre red of rocks, nor the iron red of mineral veins, but a flowing, vibrant, and alive-like red. It flashed by in the depths of a narrow side passage on the left.

Nie Lingfeng felt his hair stand on end.

"Who?!" he shouted sharply, his voice echoing several times in the cave. "Who's there?! Let me tell you, I've trained in Sanda (Chinese kickboxing)! I got a 90 on my university physical education class!"

The echo gradually faded.

Only the sound of water droplets falling. Tap. Tap. Tap.

He raised his flashlight and shone it down the side path. The beam pierced the darkness, illuminating the rough rock face, the glowing moss, and the vines sprouting from the cracks in the rock. The side path was narrow, allowing only one person to pass at a time, and its depths were completely hidden in darkness.

There was nothing there.

"It must be a trick of the light..." he muttered, but subconsciously pulled out the Swiss Army knife from his backpack—a free gift from Taobao's "Outdoor Survival Deluxe Set," with a blade less than ten centimeters long, its main function being to open beer bottles.

But having something in your hand is better than having nothing.

He struck what he thought was a cool defensive stance—the "side-step fighting stance" taught by his Sanda instructor, even though his legs were shaking a bit.

"I...I even called the police!" he shouted towards the fork in the road. "The police will be here soon! Turning yourself in now will be considered leniency!"

Still no response.

Perhaps I'm mistaken. Perhaps it's just some kind of luminescent mineral reflecting light...

Before the thought could even finish, that splash of red reappeared.

This time, it's on the right.

Closer, more vivid, and in motion—slipping out from behind a protruding rock with a slow, almost graceful gait, then disappearing into another shadow.

Nie Lingfeng could see the outline clearly.

On all fours, its shoulders and back flowed smoothly like a cheetah's, moving with the suppleness and power of a feline. Though it was only a glimpse, he saw the outline of its rugged back, and... flowing, flame-like fur.

No, it's not like a flame.

That is fire.

A deep blue flame core, a vibrant orange-red, and edges gleaming with incandescent white—those "hairs" were actually flames solidified into physical form, leaving trails of tiny sparks in the air as the thing moved, like gold dust sprinkled at a wedding, if only gold dust could burn through stone.

Nie Lingfeng stood frozen in place.

The brain completes the following process in 0.5 seconds:

1. Recognize the outline → resembles a Qilin (Chinese unicorn)

2. Observe the characteristic → engulfed in flames

3. Based on the scene → Lingyun Cave

4. Conclusion: Fire! Qilin! Lin!

"No...impossible..." He heard his own voice trembling. "After the founding of the People's Republic of China, animals were not allowed to become spirits...this is written into the law...and, and the comic is fictional...Mr. Ma Wing-shing certainly didn't conduct scientific research when he drew it..."

The thing stopped.

At the other end of the grotto, in the shadow of a stalactite forest, it turned completely around, facing Nie Lingfeng.

The flashlight beam finally illuminated it completely.

It was smaller than in the comics, roughly the size of a robust Mongolian horse, but with more slender proportions. Its entire body was covered in ruby-red scales, each gleaming with a cold metallic sheen, its edges sharp enough to be blades. Its head resembled a deer, yet it wasn't; a single horn curved backward, its tip tip holding a cluster of pale flames that crackled and popped as it burned. Its four hooves pounded the ground, the space around them slightly distorted—an optical distortion caused by the intense heat of the air.

The most dangerous thing is the eyes.

A pair of vertical pupils, like molten gold, glowed in the darkness, their depths displaying patterns resembling flowing magma. At this moment, those eyes were fixed intently on Nie Lingfeng, their gaze devoid of wild beastly rage, instead displaying a…calm scrutiny. Like someone choosing pork at a market, deliberating whether to braise or cook it again.

Nie Lingfeng stared into those eyes for a full five seconds.

Within five seconds, he recalled all the characteristics of the Fire Qilin: impervious to blades and spears, breathes flames, its scales can be used to make the Fire Qilin Sword, its blood can greatly increase one's power but may drive one insane, and it lives in the Lingyun Cave to protect the dragon vein...

Then he thought of himself: an ordinary 21st-century youth with knock-off equipment from Taobao, a phone with only 42% battery left, whose most practical fighting experience was fighting with his roommate over takeout, and who didn't even dare to watch a chicken being killed.

run!

This command struck the entire body like an electric current.

Nie Lingfeng turned and ran, his backpack slamming against his back as he ran, the beam of his flashlight bouncing wildly against the rock face like a disco ball. He didn't care where he was going, relying solely on his memory to rush towards the main tunnel, his mind filled with only one thought: Get out! Back to the sunlight! Back to a world with Wi-Fi and food delivery!

Footsteps, panting, and heartbeats mingled together.

He could feel the temperature behind him soaring. It wasn't the scorching heat of the flames, but rather the entire cave transforming into a preheated oven, the air scalding hot, each breath feeling like swallowing razor blades. The clothes on his back began to smoke, emitting a strange odor mixed with the smell of burnt synthetic fibers and sweat.

Turn the corner! The main tunnel is just ahead!

Nie Lingfeng rushed around the corner, catching a glimpse of his own shadow on the cave wall out of the corner of his eye—as well as another shadow, covered in scales and flames, rapidly approaching from behind.

How could two legs possibly outrun that thing?

A wave of heat swept over him from behind. It wasn't an attack; it was just the intense heat emanating from the thing as it approached that caused his hair to curl and char, emitting the unique aroma of burnt protein—like the smell of the instant noodles he'd cooked and forgotten to turn off the heat, burning the pot through.

I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm really going to die this time...

A light appears ahead! Is it the exit?!

No.

It's a dead end.

At the end of the tunnel was a solid rock wall, covered in glowing moss that cast a ghastly blue light upon this desolate place. At the base of the wall was a pool of water, its surface reflecting the glow of the moss, and also Nie Lingfeng's pale face, and what lay behind him…

He slowly, little by little, turned around.

The fire unicorn stood three meters away.

At this distance, the details are so clear it's almost despairing: the dark red light veins shining through the seams of the scales are like LED light strips under a circuit board; the tiny sparks exhaled from its nostrils when it breathes draw fleeting arcs in the air; and its slight head tilt—that almost human, curious head tilt, like a cat seeing a moving laser red dot.

Even in his terror, Nie Lingfeng's brain could still manage a sarcastic remark: "What's with that look? You think my flesh is tender? I eat gutter oil takeout every day, my flesh is already old and sour from sweating so much..."

The fire qilin moved.

There was no roar, no pounce, no warning of attack. It simply leaped lightly—with a physics-defying, feather-lightness—and then dispersed in mid-air.

Yes, disperse.

The sturdy scales, strong muscles, and jagged bones—all the physical parts—transformed into pure light and fire in an instant. The tangible behemoth collapsed into a restless fireball, about two meters in diameter, with a blazing white core and golden-red edges.

At the center of the fireball, a wisp of icy blue light swirled. Like a living thing encased in amber, like the coldest flame in the deep sea, it formed an extreme contrast with the surrounding raging heat.

Nie Lingfeng even forgot to scream.

He watched helplessly as the fireball "flowed" towards him. Not a lunge, but a flow, like molten iron trickling along invisible channels, steadily, precisely, and irresistibly, overflowing his ankles—

"I was wrong!" Nie Lingfeng finally managed to squeeze out a voice, his voice trembling with tears. "Brother Qilin! Divine Beast Grandpa! Ancestor! Don't eat me! I don't taste good! I just ate snail rice noodles yesterday and now I smell like sour bamboo shoots all over! And I have mild fatty liver! The ultrasound showed me as snowflake beef! I really don't deserve your attention—"

Flames climbed up his calves.

"I'm an only child! My parents are relying on me to take care of them in their old age! I still have 25 years left on my mortgage! The anime I'm following is ending next week! I can't die here—"

Flames enveloped his waist and abdomen.

"Oh, right! I can help you apply for intangible cultural heritage status! Oh no, you're already a mythical beast, so you don't need to apply... I can even start a live stream for you! 'Ancient Mythical Beast Acting Cute Online,' and we'll split the gifts 30/70! You get 70%! How about 70%?!"

Flames engulfed his chest.

In the final moments, Nie Lingfeng's thoughts drifted in a strange direction: He should have bought that travel insurance policy and named his mother as the beneficiary… But would the insurance company believe a claim like "eaten by the Fire Kirin"? It would probably be considered insurance fraud…

Flames engulfed overhead.

The world was plunged into pure white.

In the final instant before his consciousness faded, Nie Lingfeng felt an unimaginable heat envelop his entire body, yet he felt no pain. The flames, as if alive, burrowed through his pores, seeped into his blood vessels, spread along his nerves, and took root in every inch of his flesh. Accompanying them was a wisp of icy blue, which coiled around the flames, balancing the rage, and carving out tiny, cool veins within the intense heat.

He "saw" many fragmented images:

The rain poured down as the man with the knife fought a burning beast on the Buddha's lap.

Inside the ice cave, the white-clad swordsman tilted his head back and drank the scalding beast blood.

The blue-clad warrior's legs moved like the wind, kicking away the drifting clouds in the sky.

The black-clad swordsman laughed wildly in the Buddhist temple, his blade flashing and cleaving through the golden statue.

Finally... atop the snow-capped mountain, a figure with flowing long hair looked back, her eyes filled with a mixture of compassion and madness.

These images exploded into billions of specks of light, which then reformed into three suspended orbs of light. Two were as dim as extinguished embers, while the other shone faintly yet stubbornly, like a candle flickering in the wind.

The sphere of light sank into the abyss of consciousness.

Nie Lingfeng's last thought was—

I should have bought an ice cream at the entrance of the scenic area...

Then, pure white engulfed everything.

Silence reigned over the grottoes once more.

Only the pool of water remained calm as a mirror, reflecting the deep blue moss on the rocky top.

It was as if nothing had happened.