One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

On the seventh night after returning to school, Nie Lingfeng was lost in the abyss of dreams.

In his dream, it was that bustling food street from his past life: charcoal crackled in the oven, lamb skewers sizzled on the iron rack, and the rising smoke from the dripping fat carried an enticing aroma. He reached for a skewer of golden-brown, glistening chicken wings, his fingertips almost touching the scalding hot skin—

My dream is shattered.

Without warning, it was like a mirror being shattered by a heavy hammer.

Nie Lingfeng suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils rapidly contracting and dilating in the darkness. There was no sound, no light, and the dormitory was deathly silent—this silence itself was abnormal. Li Ming talked in his sleep every night, Wang Qiang's teeth grinding sounded like an electric drill, and the bed creaked when Zhang Chulan turned over.

But now, only the sound of my own heartbeat is drumming in my ears.

He remained lying on his back, his eyelids barely open. The Ice Heart Technique circulated silently, enhancing his five senses to their peak.

Three breathing sounds could be heard in the corridor outside the dormitory.

Light, steady, with a well-trained rhythm. The footsteps were almost silent on the concrete, but the subtle ripples in the air caused by the disturbance did not escape his notice—three people, coming upstairs, with a clear objective.

There are still... twelve steps to the third floor.

"Here it comes," Nie Lingfeng thought to himself.

Those people from the World Alliance are really punctual. So, shouldn't Junior Uncle Zhang Lingyu make his appearance next? The virgin Taoist priest who made a mistake on a whim—I wonder if he's more ethereal and awkward in real life compared to his comic book counterpart?

He closed his eyes again, adjusting his breathing to be long and even, even deliberately making the rhythm of his chest rise and fall with a slight snoring sound—he learned this trick from that kid Zhang Chulan, whose acting skills in pretending to be asleep were enough to win an Oscar.

A very faint metallic scraping sound came from the door lock.

It wasn't a tentative attempt to pick the lock, but a clean, crisp click—a professional tool, opening this old-fashioned pin tumbler lock was as easy as tearing a piece of paper. The hinges were slowly pushed open, and moonlight poured in through the widening gap, casting three long, distorted shadows on the floor.

Three men in black.

The dark, tight-fitting clothing gleamed matte in the moonlight, and a mask covered the mouth and nose, leaving only a pair of eyes exposed—three pairs of eyes rapidly scanning the dormitory in the darkness, like three infrared scanners.

Using his "listening to the wind to pinpoint location" technique, Nie Lingfeng clearly saw their movements: the man in the middle with the crew cut raised his index finger and pointed slightly to the left. The tall, thin man on the left floated like a ghost to Li Ming and Wang Qiang's bedside, took out a small silver jar from his pocket, pointed the jar towards their mouths and noses, and lightly pressed it with his thumb—

"Heh, heh."

Two almost inaudible soft sounds. A sweet, cloying scent, like that of rotten fruit, filled the air. Li Ming's sleep-talking stopped abruptly, and Wang Qiang's teeth-grinding fell silent. Their breathing suddenly became heavy and long as they drifted into a deeper sleep.

The short, stout man on the right walked straight to Zhang Chulan's bed. He pulled out a... cloth bag from behind his back.

Nie Lingfeng almost lost his composure.

The bag was strikingly red and blue, with two large Song typeface characters for "fertilizer" printed on the front, and a line of smaller print below that read "Scientific farming, bountiful harvest for every family." A golden ear of rice was drawn in the corner. With this kind of aesthetic, did the Tianxiahui (a secret society) simply purchase stockpiled from agricultural supply stations in the 1980s?

The short, stout man moved with surprising professionalism. Like a nimble fat cat, he climbed the bed ladder, positioned the bag opening at Zhang Chulan's soundly sleeping head, and with a flick of his wrist—

套！

Zhang Chulan groaned softly, his body instinctively struggling, his legs kicking under the blanket. But the short, fat man was cunning; he tightened, twisted, and tied the bag in three seconds, stuffing Zhang Chulan from head to toe into a fat bag like a fragile item, then hoisted it onto his shoulder.

Zhang Chulan kicked the bag twice more, then stopped moving completely—he was probably also sprayed with a sleeping potion.

The three exchanged glances and nodded, then quickly retreated. The door closed silently, and the sound of their footsteps faded into the distance in the stairwell, like the receding tide.

Nie Lingfeng then opened his eyes and slowly sat up.

The moonlight, like frost, blanketed the empty upper bunk. He turned to look at Li Ming and Wang Qiang, who were sleeping like corpses, drool hanging from their lips. He silently shook his head.

"Interesting," he murmured, a playful smile curving his lips. "Zhang Lingyu, a single misstep... This play is getting more and more interesting."

He stepped barefoot onto the cold floor tiles. He retrieved the Snow Drinking Blade from his storage pouch under the bed; the scabbard, wrapped in coarse cloth, felt familiarly heavy and cold to the touch. He slung the blade over his shoulder and opened the window—the third floor was merely a blurry outline in the night.

Without hesitation, he flipped over and leaped out.

The moment the body began to fall, the first move of the Wind God Leg, "Catching the Wind and Shadows," was naturally executed. The toes lightly touched the second-floor windowsill, cleverly neutralizing the force of the fall. The whole person landed silently on the lawn below like a falling leaf, without even bending a few blades of grass.

Ahead, three dark figures carrying the conspicuous fertilizer bag had already darted more than a hundred meters away and were rushing towards the abandoned back gate of the school.

Nie Lingfeng followed at a leisurely pace, maintaining a distance of about fifty meters. His figure appeared and disappeared in the night, sometimes blending into the shadows of the trees, sometimes hugging the base of the wall, his steps as light as if he were walking on clouds.

He paused as soon as he stepped out of the school gate.

A sharp killing intent erupted from somewhere deep within the campus!

That killing intent was peculiar—not a bloody brutality, but an extreme sharpness, a keenness that seemed capable of cutting through space itself. The killing intent was mixed with subtle distortions and fluctuations in space, like ripples spreading from a pebble thrown into a calm lake.

"Sand Swallow?" Nie Lingfeng turned to look in the direction of the murderous aura. The campus was silent in the night. "It's probably aimed at Sister Bao'er... Never mind, Sister Bao'er can handle her more than enough. Let's take care of Chu Lan first."

He composed himself and continued his pursuit.

The three members of the World Society had clearly done thorough reconnaissance of the terrain, deliberately choosing back streets and alleys without streetlights or surveillance cameras, winding their way through the area, and finally entering an old residential area awaiting demolition.

The ruined neighborhood resembled a giant skeleton under the moonlight. The broken walls cast jagged shadows, the shattered window frames looked like empty eye sockets, and the wind whistled mournfully through the discarded plastic sheeting.

The three men stopped in front of a half-collapsed three-story building. The short, fat man threw the fertilizer bag on his shoulder to the ground with a "thud," kicking up a cloud of dust.

"We're here." The crew-cut man pulled off his mask, revealing an ordinary face that looked to be around thirty years old and would disappear into a crowd in an instant, except for his sharp, eagle-like eyes.

The tall, thin man also took off his mask, kicked the bulging bag, and said mockingly, "Sleeping like a log. My 'Drunken Immortal Powder' will keep him sleeping until noon tomorrow."

"Enough talk, check the goods." The short, fat man squatted down, his stubby fingers reaching to untie the rough hemp rope at the top of the bag.

Just as the rope loosened—

"boom--!!!"

A blinding golden light exploded from inside the bag like a bomb! The fertilizer bag was instantly torn into countless pieces by the violent energy, scattering like colorful butterflies! Zhang Chulan was enveloped in solidified golden light, and with a nimble leap, he landed with his legs slightly apart, his fists positioned in front of his chest in a standard defensive stance. His eyes were wide open, and his voice trembled with anger:

"Are you guys from Quanxing never going to stop?! Let me tell you, I—" His roar caught in his throat as he recognized the three men before him—not the mad dog from Quanxing that night. He paused, his tone turning to confusion, "Who...are you?"

The crew-cut man grinned, his smile carrying a condescending politeness: "Zhang Chulan, don't be nervous. We're not those lowlifes from the Quanxing Sect, we're from the Tianxia Society. We heard you're a successor of the 'Qi Body Source Flow,' so we specially invited you out to...make friends with you."

"Making friends?" Zhang Chulan laughed angrily, pointing to the remains of a fertilizer bag on the ground. "You call this 'inviting'? Using sleeping pills? Covering someone with a fertilizer bag? Your Tianxia Society's etiquette for making friends is quite unique!"

"Form doesn't matter," the tall, thin man interjected, his voice shrill. "What matters is the result. Look at you, standing right here, arguing with us, aren't you?"

Just as Zhang Chulan was about to retort, his expression suddenly changed.

He abruptly turned his head to look at the darkest shadow on his left.

Almost simultaneously, the three men with buzz cuts turned around as if electrocuted, their muscles tensing.

Three people slowly emerged from the shadows.

No, more accurately, it "emerged".

The man at the head wore a spotless, moon-white Taoist robe, its wide sleeves fluttering slightly in the night breeze. His long hair was meticulously tied back with a simple ebony hairpin, revealing a face so handsome it was almost unreal—his eyebrows were like distant mountains, his eyes like cold stars, his nose as straight as a snow-capped peak, and his thin lips pressed into a cold, straight line. Most captivating were his eyes, clear to the bottom, yet as cold as an unmelting glacier, looking down at people with a condescending, godlike detachment, as if gazing at ants.

Zhang Lingyu.

Two young Taoist priests followed behind him, dressed in simple gray robes, their expressions respectful and their steps orderly, like attendants following a deity.

Nie Lingfeng hid behind a half-collapsed brick wall twenty meters away, his eyes slightly narrowed.

The real person is even more impactful than the comic book version—that ethereal, otherworldly aura, that aloofness that says "I am out of place in this world," and that face that can truly evoke a "momentary change of heart"... No wonder it's so popular in the comic book.

"Who are you?" the crew-cut man asked in a deep voice, his hand already stealthily reaching for his waist.

Zhang Lingyu didn't even spare him a glance. His gaze, as if it were a physical object, fell upon Zhang Chulan, scrutinizing him from head to toe. After a few seconds, he parted his thin lips slightly, his voice as cold as the clinking of jade:

"The Golden Light Mantra. Though it's only a superficial version, it is indeed from the Longhu Mountain lineage."

The young Taoist priest to his left stepped forward, clasped his hands in greeting to Zhang Chulan, and asked in a fairly polite tone, "Fellow Taoist, was what you just used the 'Golden Light Mantra,' a secret technique of my Celestial Master's Mansion?"

Zhang Chulan's heart skipped a beat, but his face instantly contorted with confusion: "What Golden Light Mantra? What are you talking about, Daoist Master? I'm just an ordinary college student, I just woke up and I'm a little dazed..."

"Then let's give it a try." The young Taoist priest on the right suddenly moved!