One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Nie Lingfeng was awakened by a strong and complex smell of barbecue.

The smell brutally assaulted his nostrils—the pungent odor of charcoal, the smoky aroma of meat, and the ashes of some kind of burning vegetation, all mingling together to create a strange, primal, smoky scent. He frowned, his consciousness slowly rising from a chaotic deep sea, like a diver struggling to break through the last pressure of the water and finally making contact with the thin air.

"Ugh..." A muffled groan escaped from her throat, dry and rough like sandpaper.

Then, my body's senses returned—not pain, but a pervasive, tingling ache that seeped from the depths of my bones. Every muscle felt as if it had been soaked in vinegar all night, limp and powerless; every bone groaned softly, like rusty gears struggling to turn. The feeling was like being repeatedly run over by a heavy truck, then hastily pieced back together into a human form.

He struggled to open his eyelids.

My vision was initially a blur of colors. A deep blue, uneven, slightly trembling… It took several seconds for my eyes to focus with difficulty. The first thing I saw was the cave ceiling—the jagged rock surface riddled with cracks and holes, and within those cracks, clumps of glowing, deep blue moss clung tenaciously, like fragments of shattered stars scattered by someone. The light was dimmer than I remembered, and the moss's deep blue glow flickered like breath. Was this the bioluminescence cycle of these creatures? Or had I been asleep for a long time?

Nie Lingfeng tried moving his fingers.

A cool touch came from his fingertips—he was lying on the rough stone surface. His fingers could bend and stretch, and nerve signals flowed freely. He breathed a sigh of relief: thank goodness, he wasn't paralyzed.

He braced himself on his elbows, trying to sit up. This normally effortless movement was now incredibly difficult. His arms felt as limp as overcooked noodles, trembling and unable to exert any strength. And... the sensation was wrong.

The arm length is incorrect.

Nie Lingfeng froze.

He slowly, little by little, raised his right hand to his eyes.

That was a child's hand.

His skin was an almost translucent white, with faint blue veins visible beneath. His fingers were long yet delicate, the knuckles not yet prominent, and his nails were neatly trimmed and rounded—no, the point isn't the nails! The point is that these weren't the hands of a twenty-three-year-old adult male who had been typing on a keyboard for five years, with slightly enlarged knuckles and calluses on the web of his right hand from holding a pen!

"Wo...de...fa..."

The three words were squeezed out of his throat, his voice tender and clear, with the bright tone unique to children, like a little host in a primary school radio station speaking clearly and distinctly.

Nie Lingfeng suddenly sat up—the movement was so violent that his small body was almost thrown off balance by the inertia—he looked down at his body.

His legs were shorter. Not just a bit shorter, but at least a third shorter by a rough estimate. The pant legs, which should have reached his ankles, were now bunched up at his feet, like two bloated sacks. The dark gray cotton T-shirt he was wearing was ridiculously loose, the neckline so wide it revealed half of his collarbone and thin shoulders, the sleeves so long they covered half his palm. The pants were a disaster—the canvas cargo pants were so big at the waist that he could fit another one of himself inside, and he had to hold them up tightly to keep them from slipping off. As for those sturdy hiking boots… they now looked like two heavy boats on his small feet, swinging off with a "thud" every time he took a step.

He practically scrambled to the edge of the pool.

The water was as calm as a mirror, reflecting the dark blue moss on the cave ceiling and clearly showing a face.

The face of a boy who looked to be around ten years old.

Her skin was so fair it was almost translucent, and her cheeks still retained a soft, baby-fat curve. Her eyebrows and eyes were delicate, with long eyelashes and round, bright eyes that naturally drooped slightly at the corners, giving her an innocent yet bewildered look. Her hair was a bit long, soft black strands clinging messily to her sweaty forehead, adding to her childlike appearance. She was the kind of person who would elicit a smile and a compliment from a stranger on the street, who would pinch her cheek and exclaim, "What an adorable little kid!"

Nie Lingfeng stared at the water's surface, motionless, as if petrified.

One minute. Two minutes.

He stretched out two fingers of his right hand, pinched his left cheek, and twisted it hard—

"Awooo—!"

A real, sharp pain exploded within him. The pain almost brought tears to his eyes.

Not a dream.

"I..." He looked at the little face in the water, contorted in pain, his voice trembling. "I've regressed to a child? Regressed to the upper grades of elementary school? What about the two and a half years of pension insurance I've paid? What about my gym membership that's expiring in three months and I just renewed?! What's the point of clicking those 'essential outfits for working men' and 'recommended mature style items' links in my bookmarks now?!"

The still water reflected his frantic, near-collapse expression.

Calm down. Nie Lingfeng, calm down. Take a deep breath. Yes, take a deep breath; oxygen helps with thinking—

"What the hell am I supposed to do?!" he growled in despair, shoving his hands into his thick, voluminous hair (it was unusually smooth and incredibly thick, probably the only good thing about the shrinkage), rubbing it vigorously. "What is this? A time-travel experience with an age-reversal service? A buy-one-get-one-free promotion? A bonus 'return to childhood' package? But I don't want this! I'm only twenty-three! In the prime of my life! The best years of my youth! And now, I've been reduced to a flower bud! And an unopened one at that!"

He paced back and forth by the pool, his trousers bunched up as if they might slip off at any moment (or rather, he moved hastily with his short legs), muttering incoherently:

"The fire qilin... yes, that ball of fire! It pounced on me and burned me, and then I... shrank? What's the principle behind this? High-temperature melting and remolding? Should I thank it for its skillful craftsmanship and not burn me directly into a fertilized egg? Wait—"

Nie Lingfeng suddenly stopped in his tracks.

The last fragments of perception before falling into a coma were pieced together: that warm, searing golden-red flame was not merely burning, but seemed to possess a life of its own, seeping into pores and capillaries, flowing through the bloodstream and finally taking root deep within the bone marrow… and then there was that later-appearing, cool, icy-blue light, the two intertwined…

The I Ching's marrow cleansing?

A complete transformation?

Reconstructing the physical body?!

He ripped open the loose collar of his T-shirt and looked down sharply at his chest.

Right there, in the very center, a pattern was prominently displayed.

It wasn't a scar, nor a burn mark, but rather patterns that shone from the depths of the skin, seemingly innate. The lines were smooth and graceful, the details intricate and exquisite, lifelike—it was a Qilin, head held high, hooves raised, treading on fire! Flowing flame patterns swirled around its body, its mane billowed like raging waves, sparks flying beneath its hooves, and most chillingly, its vertical pupils, like molten gold, rested precisely on the center of its chest, rising and falling slightly with its rapid breathing, as if a real life were flowing and gazing within them!

Nie Lingfeng extended his slightly trembling fingers and carefully touched the Qilin's eye in the center of the tattoo.

It wasn't hot. It was even a little cool. The texture was no different from the surrounding skin, but the pattern was deeply "grown" into the flesh, unlike any temporary tattoo or paint.

"..." He stared at the eerie and majestic Qilin tattoo, speechless for a long time, his mind absurdly conjuring up certain familiar settings. "This design, this location... The Grave Robbers' Chronicles? Am I Zhang Qiling? Or the young Zhang Qiling?"

But the next second he shook his head vigorously.

"No, Zhang Qiling's Qilin tattoo is on his back, and it's in a 'Treading on Ghosts' style, while mine is a pure fire Qilin, and it's on my chest... Wait, that's not the point! The point is, why is there a tattoo at all?! Does the fire Qilin also work as an ancient tattoo artist? Are you forcing customers to give away a commemorative design as a after-sales service? Don't customers have a choice? Can I request to change it to something cuter, like Pikachu or Hello Kitty...?"

As he was engrossed in his absurd rant, he suddenly caught a glimpse of a dark reflection, distinct from the rocks, not far from the edge of the pool.

It was a knife.

A sword, its entire body as dark as ancient pool iron, its scabbard covered with mysterious patterns resembling natural frost, lay quietly on the cold ground. The hilt was wrapped in deep blue sharkskin, worn to a perfect degree, and the hilt was inlaid with simple yet archaic cloud patterns. Even in its scabbard, the entire sword exuded a chilling aura that kept strangers at bay—a physical coldness; the air within three inches of the blade was noticeably colder, and one could even faintly see fine white frost condensing on the stone surface.

Nie Lingfeng's heart skipped a beat.

He recognized the knife.

Everyone who has seen "Storm Riders" will not mistake it.

Snow Drinking Blade. Nie Feng's sword. Legend has it that it was forged from "White Dew," a divine stone left behind by Nuwa when she mended the sky, and is the coldest divine weapon in the world.

"No way..." he muttered to himself, carefully moving over while pulling up his pants, and squatting down (a movement that was exceptionally easy for him in his current body). He held his breath and examined the area closely.

The more he looked, the faster his heart raced. It wasn't just "similar," it was practically identical! The patterns on the scabbard, seemingly formed naturally like frost flowers blooming in succession in the dead of winter, the ancient cloud patterns at the hilt, even the unique grainy texture of the sharkskin wrapped around the handle... all matched the image in his memory perfectly.

Nie Lingfeng extended his right hand, stopping just an inch from the hilt of the knife.

Reason screamed in my head: Don't touch it! This is a divine weapon! It has a spirit! What if it recognizes you as its master? What if it thinks you're unworthy and turns against you? What if it suddenly jumps up and stabs you?!

But deep within his blood, an indescribable longing and a youthful, adolescent spirit were burning like raging flames: Snow Drinking Blade! Nie Feng's blade! The blade that slashed the Fire Qilin and fought against the Godless One! It was right before his eyes, within reach! If he didn't touch it, he would regret it for the rest of his life!

Ultimately, desire overcame caution.

Nie Lingfeng gritted his teeth, clenched his fingers, and gripped the hilt of the knife wrapped in dark blue sharkskin!

It's so cold!

The biting cold felt like grasping the very core of an Arctic glacier with bare hands. The pure, domineering chill instantly surged through his palm's Laogong acupoint, traveling along the meridians of his arm to his shoulders and neck, sending a shiver down his spine and making his hair stand on end. Strangely, though the chill was intense, it wasn't violent or harmful. Instead, it carried a peculiar, tentative warmth, as if confirming his lineage or offering a silent "greeting."

"Huh?" Nie Lingfeng was surprised to find that the thickness and curvature of the knife handle perfectly matched his small hands! No, it wasn't a coincidence, it was as if it was tailor-made for his current hand shape.

He tentatively tried to lift the knife off the ground.

The expected heaviness of a divine weapon did not materialize. The blade was light and easy to handle, with an even weight distribution, but he could clearly feel the dormant, vast chill and sharpness within the scabbard, like a lurking ice dragon.

"What's this? A thoughtful service?" Nie Lingfeng muttered, placing the knife horizontally on his knees, his fingers tracing the cool scabbard. "Did the blade 'shrink' to fit its master? Or... does this divine weapon possess some kind of sentience, adapting to its wielder?"

He gripped the scabbard tightly with his left hand and the hilt with his right, slowly applying force—

Clang—!

A clear, resonant sword cry, like the roar of a dragon, suddenly erupted, echoing and reverberating within the sealed grotto for a long time. The drawn blade, reflecting the pale blue light of the moss above, shimmered with a cold, autumn-water-like gleam. Wisps of pale white, chilling air, visible to the naked eye, seeped from the edge, causing the surrounding air temperature to plummet and a thin layer of frost to instantly form on the stone surface.

"Beautiful..." Nie Lingfeng was mesmerized and held his breath. "The luster, the texture, the automatic cooling effect... Compared to this, even the top-tier cosplay props on Taobao are just plastic toys."

He ran his fingertips lightly over the blade, carefully avoiding the seemingly calm yet sharp edge capable of slicing a hair in two, the cool, smooth touch sending a chill down his spine. Images of himself wielding the Snow Drinker, his legs moving like the wind, the blade flashing like lightning, began to uncontrollably appear in his mind. But the next second, cruel reality dealt him a heavy blow—

Glug glug glug...

My stomach is growling.

The sound was loud, long, and full of energy, echoing repeatedly in the silent grotto, carrying a hollow resonance.

Nie Lingfeng froze.

He slowly and incredulously lowered his head to look at his flat, even slightly sunken, abdomen.

hungry.

An unbearable hunger swept over him like a tidal wave. His stomach felt like it was being tightly gripped and twisted by an invisible hand, and a burning, empty sensation spread from his stomach to his throat. The feeling was so intense that for a moment, even the Snow Drinking Knife in his arms looked like a giant, chilling chocolate bar.

"No way..." He was on the verge of tears, his voice trembling with sobs. "You've shrunk! Your metabolism has accelerated to a child's level? How long exactly was I unconscious just now? Days? Or even longer?"

He forced himself to calm down and looked around. A glowing, deep blue pool, towering stalactites, moss-covered rock walls. No wild fruit, no mushrooms, no plants that looked edible. Not even insects… There were indeed a few slowly crawling, faintly phosphorescent centipedes in the crevices, but their eerie glow clearly proclaimed, “I’m poisonous, don’t eat me.”

"No, we have to find a way out." Nie Lingfeng struggled to his feet and sheathed the Snow Drinking Blade with a "click". He thought for a moment, then rummaged through the scattered items on the ground and found the nylon rope that had originally been used to reinforce his backpack (the huge backpack was now empty, its contents scattered all over the ground), and tried to tie the knife to his back.

Even though the Snow Drinking Blade was "shrunk," it was still too long and too big for his current ten-year-old body. The blade was much taller than him when held upright, and he could barely carry it on his back. The bottom of the scabbard almost dragged on the ground, making him wobble as he walked, like a mischievous child who had stolen an adult's weapon and was staggering along.

"This won't do... I'll trip and fall to my death before I even find the way." Nie Lingfeng decisively gave up, unsheathed the knife, and hugged it tightly to his chest. The cool scabbard pressed against his warm chest, and a faint warmth emanated from the spot where the Qilin tattoo was, forming a strange balance with the coldness of the blade.

Based on his vague memory, he chose the direction he had come from, clutching his knife and holding his waistband tightly with one hand, and began to explore the uneven stone cave floor, step by step.

About ten minutes later, he stopped.

Ahead lay a complete, seamless rock wall. It was covered in that familiar, glowing blue moss, exactly like the environment where he had awoke.

Nie Lingfeng froze. Three seconds later, he suddenly turned around and ran wildly along the way he came (given his current short legs).

After what seemed like an equally long time, he returned breathlessly to the starting point—the pool of water shimmering with a ghostly blue light.

"..." He stood by the pool, looking at the small figure reflected in the water, holding a large sword, disheveled, with a blank and desperate expression, and fell silent.

A labyrinth. This Lingyun Cave is essentially a vast and complex labyrinth. Moreover, based on his limited memories and the descriptions in the original novel, this labyrinth may very well change its orientation on its own, making it a living, breathing natural forbidden zone.

"Calm down, Nie Lingfeng, calm down." He took several extremely deep breaths, trying hard to recall the wilderness survival shows and documentaries he had watched before. "The first principle when lost: stay calm and avoid unnecessary exertion. Then find water, build a temporary shelter, try to send a signal, and wait for rescue... and so on!"

He stopped abruptly, his face turning even paler.

"Where would you get rescue from? Call 119? Do you think the firefighters would believe a report like, 'A ten-year-old child is lost in the maze inside the Leshan Giant Buddha and claims he was burned into a schoolboy by a mythical fire-breathing Qilin'?! He'd be arrested for a prank!"

As if to emphasize the severity of his situation, his stomach protested again—

Glug glug glug!

This time the sound was louder and longer, with a kind of empty echo, and even caused a spasmodic pain in my stomach.

Nie Lingfeng's legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, placing the Snow Drinking Blade across his knees. The icy blade sent a chill through his thin trousers, but it couldn't cool the anxiety in his heart.

He began to force himself to analyze the current situation:

First, he time-traveled. From the Leshan Giant Buddha Scenic Area in the 21st century, he traveled to the Lingyun Cave, a place that resembles the world of "Storm Riders" and is truly fraught with danger.

Secondly, he has become a child again. He has transformed from a 23-year-old corporate slave into a little kid in his early teens, who is (at least for now) too weak to even kill a chicken.

Third, he seems to have inherited Nie Feng's legacy (to be confirmed), obtaining the Snow Drinking Blade and a cool-looking Qilin tattoo on his chest with an unknown purpose.

Fourth, he was trapped in a super maze that could change at any moment, and he was about to starve to death.

"This start... is way too hellish..." Nie Lingfeng looked up at the seemingly eternally blue "starry sky" above him and let out a long, helpless sigh. "Other people who transmigrate are either royalty or genius young masters, or at the very least, wealthy young masters. And me? A primary school student trapped in an ancient labyrinth, about to starve to death? Did they get the wrong script?! Director! Screenwriter! I protest!"

Before the words were finished—

An extremely intense feeling of dizziness, like a lurking giant hammer, slammed into the back of his head without warning!