One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

They walked slowly, like two villagers taking an early morning stroll. Chen Duo seemed very familiar with the village paths; she walked ahead, occasionally adjusting her direction to avoid areas where people might be out early.

The thick fog reduced visibility and obscured their figures and footsteps. The occasional crows of roosters and barks of dogs in the distance added to the tranquil and hazy atmosphere of the village in the early morning.

Before we even reached the square in the center of the village, a loud noise pierced through the fog.

That was no longer the orderly and silent oppressive feeling I had when I encountered Ru Hua's army last night, but a truly chaotic, violent symphony filled with the clash of forces and the life-or-death struggle—

"boom!!"

The deep, earth-shaking boom was clearly the masterpiece of the clarinet's modified iron fists.

"Whoosh—sizzle!"

The sharp whistling sound intertwined with the piercing noise of something hard being torn apart, accompanied by Xiao Zi's unique, sometimes manic, sometimes calm, strange laughter.

"Take this from me, Old Sun! Heheha!"

Wang Zhenqiu's obviously overly excited, strange screams imitating a classic character, and the heavy wind pressure generated when he swung his stick.

There's also the clean, crisp "whoosh" sound of a cleaver cutting through the air, and Feng Baobao's concise instructions or reminders:

"left."

"Watch out behind you."

"Smash it."

It was also mixed with the clanging of metal artifacts colliding, the muffled sounds of spells exploding, the roar of collapsing buildings, and the groans and roars of the injured.

As you turn the last alleyway corner, the fog thins out, and the view suddenly opens up.

The square in the center of the village was now a scene of devastation.

Not a single bluestone slab was intact; everywhere were deep and shallow pits, scorched marks, crisscrossing cracks, and flying fragments of stone. Several stilted houses near the square were affected, with walls collapsing, roof tiles falling, and wooden beams leaning precariously.

In a corner of the field, the twelve top-tier cultivators lay scattered on the ground. They had clearly been through an extremely fierce battle; everyone was injured, some unconscious, others conscious but incapacitated. They were bound together by Old Meng with specially made alloy chains that shimmered with faint runic light, like a pile of spoils waiting to be processed.

In the center of the square, the battle was nearing its end, yet it remained fierce.

Ma Xianhong's condition is extremely poor.

His white Taoist robe was already tattered and covered with dust and dark red bloodstains. The left sleeve was completely torn, revealing a blood-soaked arm. He had multiple abrasions and bruises on his face, and blood kept oozing from the corners of his mouth. His once neatly tied hair was now disheveled, with long hair hanging loose, and a few strands stuck to his pale cheeks with sweat and blood.

But he is still fighting.

More than twenty magical artifacts of various shapes floated around him—anciently designed longswords, heavy seals, shimmering mirrors, resonating ancient bells, and small cauldrons spewing flames… Each one emanated powerful energy fluctuations and a dangerous aura, clearly exquisite creations crafted through "divine refinement." Under his masterful control, these artifacts served as both offensive and defensive tools, used for restraint and surprise attacks, forming the final line of defense.

However, this line of defense is being relentlessly torn apart.

He was surrounded by five people, five temporary workers with very different styles but equally dangerous.

Black Pipe was fully prepared for battle. He was shirtless, white sweat billowing from his bronze skin, his muscles bulging like cast iron. The specially made black bandages on his arms had been removed, revealing intricate, silver-gray mechanical structures beneath—not mere flesh and blood, but modified prosthetics incorporating biotechnology and cutting-edge engineering. At this moment, pale blue ion streams surged from the joints of his prosthetics, each punch accompanied by a muffled, thunderous sonic boom and visible distortion of the air; the sheer power was awe-inspiring.

Xiao Zizai, however, displayed a side completely opposite to his usual gentle and refined demeanor. He was still wearing his gray monk's robes, but the fluttering fabric was filled with a sharp killing intent. His eyes gleamed with an eerie, ominous blood-red light, and a near-manic, chilling smile spread across his lips. His hands became a blur of afterimages, his fingers, palms, fists, and claws shifting unpredictably, each strike precisely targeting Ma Xianhong's joints, acupoints, and the gaps in his magical artifact manipulation—ruthless, cunning, and efficient, like a precision machine designed solely for slaughter.

Wang Zhenqiu's "transformation" even made Nie Lingfeng, who was seeing him for the first time, raise an eyebrow. The boy's appearance at this moment was quite... striking. His blond hair seemed to have grown longer, and each strand stood on end, gleaming with a metallic sheen; his exposed skin was covered with a thin layer of downy hair, also gleaming with gold; his pupils had turned a fiery gold, and the corners of his eyes were slightly upturned, carrying a wild arrogance. In his hand, he held a long, gleaming golden staff with intricate cloud patterns at both ends. As he swung it, the wind howled, and the staff's shadow blurred. Sometimes it was as powerful and heavy as Mount Tai pressing down, and sometimes it was as nimble and cunning as a venomous snake emerging from its hole. He also made strange "hehe haha" noises to match his movements, exuding a powerful aura.

"This is... summoning a god? Summoning the Monkey King?" Nie Lingfeng muttered to himself.

"A secret Southwest witchcraft technique," Chen Duo explained softly in her calm, even tone beside him. "It summons a wisp of battle spirit from a guardian spirit officer under the 'Victorious Fighting Buddha,' which can greatly enhance strength, speed, and combat instincts. However, judging from his appearance, the 'spirit officer' he summoned... might have a rather lively personality."

Nie Lingfeng's lips twitched slightly. Lively? She's almost as lively as her original form!

Feng Baobao's fighting style remained as "simple and unpretentious" as ever. She was still wearing her Na Du Tong work uniform, only now she wore a black vest over it for easier movement. In her hand she gripped that seemingly ordinary kitchen knife, which had drunk the blood of countless powerful warriors. Her figure was like a ghost, darting erratically through the chaotic battlefield. Each appearance was accompanied by a cold, deadly flash of blade light, aimed directly at the moment when Ma Xianhong's defenses were weakest or when his old strength had been exhausted and new strength had not yet arisen. Her eyes remained clear and calm, as if the life-or-death struggle before her was no different from chopping vegetables and cooking.

Besides the four people launching a direct attack, there is another "person" influencing the battle in another way.

The remains of the puppets that had been shattered and maimed last night in the square began to undergo strange changes! The broken limbs were pulled back together by an invisible force; tiny mechanical tentacles sprouted from the broken joints and connected with each other; the fallen puppets struggled and "stood" up again in various contorted postures, then swayed and silently joined the battle. Although their movements were slow and clumsy, they were fearless and constantly interfered with Ma Xianhong's vision, restrained his magical artifacts, and even used their own bodies to block Hei Guan's heavy punches or Xiao Zizai's killing moves.

"Gao Erzhuang..." Nie Lingfeng looked at the changed Ruhua and murmured the name.

A temporary worker in the Northeast region, she lives year-round in a specially designed life support pod. However, her consciousness, by a twist of fate, underwent a strange mutation, gaining the ability to detach from her physical body and freely traverse, exist, and manipulate networks and various electronic devices in the form of electromagnetic waves. The "body" before her is clearly a remotely controlled prosthetic or advanced puppet. She is using her extraordinary control over electronic signals and mechanical structures to support her comrades on the front lines.

"They're all... people who have been cruelly mocked by fate." Nie Lingfeng looked at Gao Erzhuang's closed protective suit, and then at Chen Duo's similar attire beside him, and a complex mix of emotions welled up in his heart.

"Hmm?" Chen Duo looked up at him, a hint of doubt flashing in her emerald eyes.

"It's nothing." Nie Lingfeng shook his head, took her hand, and quietly walked to the edge of the square under a large, leafy old locust tree. The view was better here, and the trunk and branches could also help to conceal their figures.

Under the tree, a familiar figure was leaning against it.

Wang Ye.

The Wudang Taoist priest was still wearing his signature faded, loose-fitting robe, his hair was messy, and his face had a lazy, sleepy look on it. He held a vermilion gourd in his hand, taking sips here and there, his eyes half-closed, lazily watching the extremely intense battle in the arena, as if he were enjoying a grand spectacle that had nothing to do with him.

Hearing footsteps, Wang Ye turned his head and saw Nie Lingfeng and Chen Duo beside him. His eyes widened slightly, then he raised an eyebrow and a playful smile appeared on his face. He put down his wine gourd, casually cupped his hands to Nie Lingfeng, and performed a Taoist salute.

"Good morning, Benefactor Nie. Are you here to watch the show?" His voice was lazy and teasing.

"Isn't Master Wang the same?" Nie Lingfeng returned the greeting with clasped hands, his gaze sweeping over the wine gourd in his hand. "And it seems he even brought his own 'tea'."

"Hehe, it's a long night, and I can't sleep. A little wine and some fun—that's life's pleasures." Wang Ye chuckled, his gaze naturally falling on Chen Duo beside Nie Lingfeng. His eyes flashed with undisguised surprise and curiosity. "And this young lady is...?"

"Chen Duo," Nie Lingfeng answered frankly, without hiding anything, "is... one of the patients I'll be 'treating' from now on."

"Patient?" Wang Ye drawled, his gaze sweeping over their clasped hands before scrutinizing Chen Duo's distinctive protective suit and backpack. His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh—patient. I understand, I understand. Indeed, Benefactor Nie…a doctor with a benevolent heart and a warm spirit."

His tone clearly indicated that he "understood" something beyond the literal meaning.

Nie Lingfeng was too lazy to engage in banter with him and turned his attention back to the battlefield.

On the field, Ma Xianhong was already at his limit.

Faced with the relentless onslaught of the five temporary workers and the endless harassment from Gao Erzhuang's remotely controlled puppet sea, his defenses were on the verge of collapse. The floating magical artifacts were rapidly dimming, and their control was becoming increasingly sluggish. "Clang!" A crisp sound rang out as a black-tubed fist smashed an ancient sword protecting him, cracks spreading across its surface and its spiritual light fading. "Pfft!" Xiao Zi shattered another precious mirror with a single claw strike, its runes dissipating. Wang Zhenqiu's staff struck the floating cauldron, denting it and extinguishing its flames.

"Pfft—"

Feng Baobao's ghostly figure flashed by, and the cold blade of the cleaver left a deep, bone-revealing gash on Ma Xianhong's back!

Ma Xianhong's body trembled violently, and he staggered forward a few steps, spitting out another mouthful of blood. His face was ashen, and his breath weakened rapidly. The magical artifacts around him fell to the ground like kites with broken strings, making dull thuds.

The black tube strode forward like a savage beast, raising its modified prosthetic arm high. Pale blue ions condensed at the tip of its fist, radiating destructive energy, ready to deliver the final blow.

Xiao Zizai's eyes flashed with bloodlust, his hands formed claws, and ominous black and red qi swirled around his fingertips as he locked onto Ma Xianhong's throat and heart.

Wang Zhenqiu let out a strange cry, raised his golden cudgel high, and made a chopping motion.

Feng Baobao appeared silently behind Ma Xianhong, holding a kitchen knife horizontally.

ended.

This thought arose in the minds of almost all the spectators.

At this critical moment—

"BOOM—!!!!!!!!!"

A deafening explosion suddenly erupted from the southeast of the village, in the area where the ancestral hall was located! The sound was so powerful that the entire earth seemed to tremble!

Immediately afterwards, a fireball, crimson mixed with an eerie bluish-black, shot into the sky, instantly expanding and engulfing the ancestral hall and a large area of ​​surrounding buildings! The scorching heat wave, carrying brick and wood chips, swept outwards like a tsunami! Even from a great distance, the people in the square could feel the intense heat and shockwave!

The firelight illuminated half of the still-dark sky, and thick smoke billowed up, forming a huge mushroom cloud!

"Cultivation Furnace!!! Zhang Chulan!!!!" Ma Xianhong's eyes widened in horror as he let out a heart-wrenching roar filled with despair and rage! He was surrounded, and Zhang Chulan was nowhere to be found. Even if Ma Xianhong was slow to react, he could guess what had happened. However, he never expected that Zhang Chulan would actually find and destroy the Cultivation Furnace! He suddenly found a surge of strength and struggled to his feet, desperately trying to rush towards the direction of the explosion!

But as soon as he took a step, he was sent flying again by the heavy, mountain-like force of the clarinet's punch, crashing heavily onto the gravel-strewn ground. Blood gushed from his mouth, and he was too weak to get up. He just stared intently at the towering flames in the direction of the ancestral hall, his eyes filled with resentment, pain, and... the bewilderment of a collapsing belief.

Everyone in the arena, including Hei Guan, Xiao Zizai, Wang Zhenqiu, Feng Baobao, and even Gao Erzhuang, who was controlling the puppets in the distance, and Lao Meng, who was on guard, were stunned for a moment by the sudden and earth-shattering explosion, and their offensive involuntarily paused for a moment.

In that split second!

Nie Lingfeng made a move!

His speed was beyond the limits of what the naked eye could perceive, appearing beside Feng Baobao as if he had teleported! Under Feng Baobao's slightly surprised and clear gaze, he swiftly and discreetly slipped a neatly folded piece of paper, which he had prepared beforehand, into the breast pocket of her work uniform.

"Sister Bao'er," he said in a very low voice, speaking very quickly, "give this to Chu Lan and tell him to make sure he passes it on to Third Brother and Fourth Brother. Remember, they must both read it together; there can't be a third person. This is of great importance."

Feng Baobao blinked, looked down at the small bulge in her chest pocket, then looked up at Nie Lingfeng, and nodded seriously, replying simply, "Okay."

Nie Lingfeng breathed a sigh of relief. He had an almost absolute trust in Feng Baobao—she would always keep her promises, and she was capable of doing so.

After finishing this task, Nie Lingfeng didn't linger at all. With a swift movement, he returned to Chen Duo's side under the old locust tree like a ghost. The whole process was so fast that it seemed like everyone's illusion.

He took Chen Duo's hand and whispered, "We should go. Let's leave here first, find a safe and quiet place to stay, and then... we'll begin our 'treatment'."

Chen Duo nodded, her emerald eyes taking one last look at Ma Xianhong, who lay motionless and distraught in the center of the square, and then at the towering flames and thick smoke. A faint, indescribable emotion seemed to flash in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure.

"Okay," she replied softly.

The two stopped and turned away, disappearing silently into the lingering morning mist and the shadows of the complex alleyways at the edge of the square, as if they had never been there.

Behind them, the deafening explosions still reverberated, and flames illuminated the sky. In the plaza, after a brief moment of shock, the battle seemed to be drawing to a close.

But those things are no longer relevant to Nie Lingfeng and Chen Duo.

Their path is in another direction.

Three months.

The countdown begins now.

Ninety days.