One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

At the foot of Longhu Mountain, the scorching July sun baked the bluestone path until it was burning hot, and the rising heat distorted the outline of the distant mountain gate. In front of the ticket office, a long queue snaked slowly, inching forward under the limited shade of the trees. Sun umbrellas, wide-brimmed hats, fans—tourists used every means to resist the scorching sun that could peel off their skin, their complaints mingling with the chirping of cicadas.

"No, ma'am, take another look!" Zhang Chulan practically leaned into the ticket window, pointing intently at the photo on the student ID. "Look at this stamp, this registration seal! And look at this photo—that melancholic yet rebellious gaze, that messy yet individualistic hairstyle, that standard ID photo face! Who else could it be but me? What an incredible coincidence that we look so alike!"

The ticket seller was a woman in her forties with reading glasses perched on her nose. She slowly took the student ID, examined it closely for three seconds, then looked up to scrutinize Zhang Chulan's face before finally speaking slowly, "Student, your student ID... is expired."

"Expired?" Zhang Chulan was struck dumb, his voice trembling.

"You graduated this July, right?" The older woman pushed up her glasses, a knowing glint in her eyes behind the lenses saying, "I've seen it all before." "Once you graduate, you're no longer a student. You have to buy a full-price ticket, 260."

"A difference of 130 yuan!" Zhang Chulan pounded on the windowsill in anguish. "130 yuan could buy more than twenty bowls of beef noodles with meat! It could buy more than a hundred packs of spicy strips! It could..."

Xu Si, behind him, a cigarette dangling from his lips, laughed so hard his shoulders shook: "Hey, our Zhang, you haven't even warmed your diploma yet, and your student benefits are already gone? First lesson in society—no discounts on admission!"

Feng Baobao stood on tiptoe, her gaze passing over Zhang Chulan's shoulder, intently staring at the ticket chart inside the window. She counted the prices with one finger in the air, then nodded seriously: "Hmm, two hundred and sixty, one hundred and thirty. Double the price."

"It's half! Baby, it's half!" Zhang Chulan corrected, then turned to the ticket seller with a pained expression, "Ma'am, please make an exception, look at my face, I still have such an innocent college student vibe..."

"Alright, alright." Xu San couldn't stand it anymore, so he pulled Zhang Chulan, who was acting like a drama queen, aside, and took out his wallet. "Five full-price tickets, please."

The ticket seller took the money, slowly counting the tickets, stamping them, and giving change. Zhang Chulan continued nagging beside him, "Third Brother, consider this a loan. When I make money in the future, I'll repay you with interest..."

"Shut up, or you'll have to pay yourself." Xu San shoved the ticket into his hand, and the world suddenly became quiet.

Nie Lingfeng stood on the outskirts of the crowd, leaning against a large, leafy old locust tree, its shadow casting dappled light on him. He watched this scene, a smile involuntarily creeping onto his lips. The real Zhang Chulan was far more vivid than the shameless character in the comics—his deeply ingrained stinginess and vulgarity were laid bare in the sunlight.

His gaze seemed to casually sweep over the throng of people, then suddenly fixed on a figure.

He was a young Taoist priest, dressed in a robe slightly different from the ones worn by the other Taoist priests of Longhu Mountain—wider, simpler, and the fabric slightly faded from washing. He carried a long sword carefully wrapped in gray cloth on his back, his figure slender and upright, his steps light as if untouched by dust. Most striking were his eyes, which seemed perpetually half-open, giving him a languid, sleepy look, but the occasional glint in his eyes was like the sharp edge of a drawn sword.

Wudang, meaning king.

A successor of Feng Hou Qi Men.

Nie Lingfeng's heart stirred slightly. The actors in this grand spectacle of the Luo Tian Grand Ceremony were indeed beginning to appear.

As if sensing his gaze, Wang Ye suddenly turned his head, his gaze piercing through the crowd and landing precisely on Nie Lingfeng. Their eyes met for a moment, and Wang Ye lazily gave a smile and nodded as a greeting, before resuming his nonchalant demeanor and continuing to stroll leisurely up the mountain with the flow of people.

Nie Lingfeng returned the smile, silently thinking: There are more and more interesting people these days.

"Hey, Xiao Feng! What are you spacing out for?" Xu Si called out.

Five people entered the mountain after having their tickets checked. The scenery of Longhu Mountain truly lives up to its reputation as a Taoist blessed land. Ancient trees reach for the sky, casting vast shade, while mountain streams murmur, their cool waters soothing to the ear. The stone steps wind upwards, disappearing into the swirling mist, like a path to heaven. Tourists stroll along, stopping to take photos, panting, and marveling; the hustle and bustle is imbued with the lively atmosphere of everyday life.

Feng Baobao had no interest in the scenery; her attention was completely captivated by the dazzling array of food stalls lining both sides of the mountain path.

"Grilled sausage!" Her eyes lit up suddenly, like a hunter spotting his target, and she was about to rush over.

Xu San, quick as a flash, grabbed her by the back of her collar: "Baby, business is more important. Let's go up the mountain to see the Celestial Master first, then we'll eat as much as we want when we come down."

"Oh," Feng Baobao responded, stopping in her tracks, but still turning her head toward the sausage stall, swallowing hard, her eyes lingering on the ground.

Zhang Chulan, however, seemed somewhat distracted, glancing around as he climbed the steps, his expression a complex mix of anticipation, nervousness, and trepidation. He was about to meet the legendary "advisor," the extraordinary figure whose fate was inextricably linked to his grandfather's; his heart was pounding.

Nie Lingfeng walked at the back, seemingly strolling leisurely, but in reality, his senses were fully activated. He could clearly perceive that many of the seemingly ordinary tourists, hawking vendors, and even the elderly people silently sweeping the ground on the mountain path were surrounded by a subtle yet deliberately concealed fluctuation of "Qi." Whether weak or strong, hidden or visible, it was like an invisible net, enveloping this famous Taoist mountain.

"Longhu Mountain... truly a place where tigers and dragons hide." He thought to himself.

About half an hour later, a simple and solemn Taoist temple appeared in front of us. The vermilion gate had weathered the elements and turned a deep color, and the blue stone steps in front of the gate were worn smooth by footsteps. Above the gate, a plaque with gold characters on a black background hung high, the three large characters "Celestial Master's Mansion" were vigorous and powerful, exuding a solemn and majestic aura.

Two young Taoist priests stood guard at the entrance. Seeing the group's distinguished air (especially Feng Baobao's fixed gaze and Zhang Chulan's furtive glances), one of them stepped forward and bowed respectfully: "May the Heavenly Venerable bestow boundless blessings. Are you here to attend the Luo Tian Grand Ritual, esteemed guests?"

Xu San returned the greeting: "Xu San and Xu Si from North China, along with Zhang Chulan, Nie Lingfeng, and Feng Baobao, have come to pay their respects to the Celestial Master."

Upon hearing this, the young Taoist priest became even more respectful: "My master has already given instructions. Please follow me."

Passing through the front courtyard paved with bluestone slabs, we arrived at the main hall. Inside, the air was filled with the gentle fragrance of incense, a serene and peaceful atmosphere. The statues of the Three Pure Ones stood high above, overlooking all living beings. On the prayer cushions in front of the statues, three elderly people sat around, enjoying tea and chatting.

The man in the center, with snow-white hair and beard, a ruddy complexion, and clear, bright eyes—unlike the cloudiness often associated with centenarians—was none other than Zhang Zhiwei, the supreme master and the 65th Celestial Master of the Celestial Master's Mansion. To his left sat a gaunt old man in a wheelchair on a prayer mat, his sleeves empty, yet his eyes unusually bright; this was Tian Jinzhong, a high-ranking priest of the Celestial Master's Mansion who had endured many hardships. To his right stood a sprightly old man with white hair and eyebrows, dressed in an immaculate white robe, his refined demeanor tempered with unwavering integrity—this was Lu Jin, the man of "a life without flaw."

The three people looked up at the sound, their gazes sweeping over them as if they were real.

The moment Zhang Chulan met the Old Celestial Master's gaze, his legs went weak. The gentleness, insight, and a hint of deep-seated guilt and pity in that gaze instantly shattered the defenses he had built up over the years. He staggered forward a few steps, stopping in front of the Old Celestial Master. He opened his mouth, but his throat felt as if something was tightly blocking it, and a thousand words were stuck in his chest.

Then, under the watchful eyes of Xu San and Xu Si covering their faces, Nie Lingfeng raising an eyebrow, and Feng Baobao tilting her head curiously—

"Thump!"

Zhang Chulan knelt down straight, his hands tightly gripping the old Celestial Master's legs. The pent-up grievances, fear, and loneliness of the past decade burst forth like a flood, accompanied by a wail of sobs.

"Master! My grandfather... he died such a terrible death! Those bastards... they didn't even spare the dead, they dug up his grave! And they wanted to kill me too! I... I've been hiding for over ten years, I can't even sleep soundly at night, I'm so scared, Master! I'm so afraid!"

He cried so hard he lost all composure, his face covered in tears and snot, which smeared all over the old Taoist master's clean robe.

Xu San couldn't bear to watch and turned to look at the sky. Xu Si suppressed a laugh, his shoulders trembling. Nie Lingfeng watched this performance, which could be described as Oscar-worthy, and thought to himself: This emotional outburst, this infectiousness, truly lives up to Zhang Chulan's reputation.

The old Celestial Master gently stroked Zhang Chulan's trembling back, his eyes slightly red, his voice a little hoarse: "Good child...you've suffered so much...it's your grandmaster...it's Longhu Mountain that has let you and your grandfather down..."

Tian Jinzhong, already in tears, wiped his eyes with his empty sleeve: "Brother Huaiyi... your grandson has grown so much... he's suffered so much..."

Lu Jin also sighed deeply, his expression complex: "Old Zhang, your grand-disciple... these years haven't been easy for him."

The outburst of crying lasted for a full five or six minutes before Zhang Chulan gradually broke into sobs. He released his grip, looked at the dark water stain on the old Celestial Master's robe, and blushed with embarrassment: "I'm...I'm sorry, Master...I've dirtied your clothes..."

"It's alright, it's alright." The old Celestial Master smiled kindly, turning his gaze to Nie Lingfeng and Feng Baobao, who were standing quietly to the side. "And who are these two young friends?"

Xu San quickly stepped forward and introduced them: "Old Master, this is Nie Lingfeng, a newcomer to our North China branch and a good friend of Chu Lan. This is Feng Baobao, a temporary worker in our North China branch."

The old celestial master's gaze lingered on Nie Lingfeng for a moment. A hint of surprise flashed quickly in the depths of his seemingly gentle eyes, as if he had seen something unexpected. However, he quickly composed himself, nodded, and said, "My two young friends, you have come from afar. You must be tired."

Nie Lingfeng clasped his hands in greeting and bowed respectfully, his demeanor neither humble nor arrogant: "Junior Nie Lingfeng greets the Old Celestial Master, Elder Tian, ​​and Elder Lu."

Feng Baobao blinked and, imitating Nie Lingfeng, clasped her hands in a fist salute. However, her movements were stiff and rigid, like a robot trying human etiquette for the first time, with a strange seriousness.

Nie Lingfeng's gaze passed over the old Celestial Master and landed on the young Taoist priest standing quietly behind him.

Junior Uncle Zhang Lingyu was dressed in a pristine white Daoist robe, spotless, which accentuated his handsome face and made his aura even more refined and otherworldly, like a banished immortal descending to earth. He was also looking at Nie Lingfeng, his eyes calm and undisturbed, but Nie Lingfeng could sense a burning fighting spirit hidden beneath that calmness—the natural sensitivity of a master towards a peer.

"Master Lingyu," Nie Lingfeng spoke, his voice clear and bright, "does the agreement of the past still stand?"

Zhang Lingyu nodded slightly, his voice steady: "Of course. A monk does not lie."

Zhang Chulan had just wiped away his tears when he heard this and immediately interjected, trying to ease the atmosphere: "Brother Feng, Junior Martial Aunt Lingyu, you see, we're all family. It's too much of a hassle for family to spar. Why don't we sit down, have a cup of tea, and chat about our life ideals..."

"Chu Lan," Nie Lingfeng interrupted him gently but firmly, "this is an agreement between me and Master Lingyu."

Zhang Lingyu turned to the old Celestial Master and bowed respectfully: "Master, I made an agreement with this Benefactor Nie that if he comes to Longhu Mountain, we will have a friendly spar to verify what we have learned. Please grant my request."

Before the old master could speak, Lu Jin clapped his hands and laughed, "Good! Good sparring! Young people should practice more; they can only improve by honing their skills in real combat! Just practicing in silence won't do! Old Zhang, let your precious disciple show us a few moves, and let us old men open our eyes!"

The old master rolled his eyes at Lu Jin: "You're just stirring up trouble." He stroked his long, snow-white beard, his gaze sweeping over Nie Lingfeng and Zhang Lingyu, and pondered, "Since you had an agreement, then go ahead. But stop when you've reached a point, so as not to ruin the harmony. It's also a good opportunity for us to see just how skilled the young talents of today have become."

"Thank you, Master (Old Celestial Master)." The two bowed simultaneously.

Two figures, one in white and one in green, walked out of the incense-filled main hall and came to the wide open space of bluestone in front of the hall.

The open space, roughly thirty zhang square, was paved with smooth, solid bluestone slabs and surrounded by a corridor with red pillars. The commotion had already attracted a considerable crowd—Taoist priests from the Celestial Master's Mansion, overnight tourists, and even some extraordinary individuals who had come up the mountain beforehand to gather information—all had gathered around, finding spots under the corridor and on the steps to peer out. The old Celestial Master's personally taught disciple, Zhang Lingyu, widely recognized as a top master among the younger generation, was openly sparring with someone—a rare and spectacular sight!

Zhang Chulan, Xu San, Xu Si, and Feng Baobao also came out and stood by the pillars. Xu Si even pulled out a handful of melon seeds from somewhere and distributed them to Xu San and Baobao, looking like he was watching a good show.

In the center of the open space, the two stood facing each other, ten feet apart.

A mountain breeze swept by, swirling up a few fallen leaves, adding to the somber atmosphere.