One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Nie Lingfeng had been walking in the newly appeared tunnel for three whole days.

The downward-sloping passage was despairingly long. The rock walls gradually changed from a dark red to a bluish-black, becoming increasingly hard; even the Snow Drinking Blade could only leave faint white marks when it slashed through them. The forks in the path were as numerous as an anthill in a maze; sometimes, one would encounter three or five forks in the time it takes to burn an incense stick. If it weren't for his current mastery of the Xuanwu True Scripture, his inexhaustible inner strength, his ability to condense energy into light at his fingertips, and the constant operation of the Ice Heart Technique to maintain his mental clarity, this endless darkness and loneliness alone would have been enough to drive an ordinary person mad.

"The thirty-seventh mark..." He carved a new arrow into the rock face, the tip of his blade sizzling as it rubbed against the rock. After ten years of seclusion, he had mastered the martial arts he had inherited in the first stage to a state of perfect harmony. His Wind God Leg technique, when unleashed, transformed into an invisible gust of wind even in a narrow tunnel, its toes lightly touching protrusions in the rock face to twist and turn with effortless speed, leaving three afterimages behind it. His Cloud-Dispelling Palm technique, with its power controlled at will, could shake loose rocks from above without causing a collapse, and also leave a deep, cloud-patterned palm print on the rock face. The chilling aura of his Heavenly Frost Fist could now extend three feet outwards, covering the ground with white frost with each punch, even causing the air to condense into tiny ice crystals.

As for the Six Secrets of Aohan—when the Snow Drinking Blade is in hand, its sharpness can cut through metal and shatter stone. However, he always restrained the urge to unleash his full power, fearing that a single strike would collapse this ancient cave that had existed for countless years.

On the evening of the third day (judging from the number of cycles of true qi circulating naturally in his abdomen, it was around 3 PM), Nie Lingfeng suddenly stopped in front of a seemingly ordinary fork in the road.

He closed his eyes and heightened his senses to the fullest.

It's windy.

An extremely faint, yet undeniably present airflow. As delicate as a silkworm spinning silk, carrying an indescribable rhythm, it brushed against the ends of his long, untrimmed hair, which had reached his chest in ten years. Was there a hint of… the freshness of rising vegetation? And the slightly earthy smell of sun-baked soil?

Nie Lingfeng suddenly opened his eyes, a glint of light flashing in his pupils in the darkness.

"It's an exit!"

He was like a fully drawn bow suddenly released! He unleashed the fourth move of the Wind God Leg, "Swift and Decisive," at full power, his figure transforming into a blurry blue shadow as he sped through the maze-like tunnel! His long hair stretched into a straight line behind him, his tattered clothes fluttered in the wind, and each time his toes touched the ground, they only paused for a moment on the rock wall, using the momentum to propel him forward at a speed so fast that it created a slight popping sound in the air!

The airflow is getting stronger.

From silkworm silk to stream, from stream to breeze. The wind carries increasingly rich information: the resinous scent of pine needles, the sweetness of some wildflower, the earthy smell of damp moss, and... the unique, dry yet warm aroma of sun-baked rocks?

Nie Lingfeng's heart pounded wildly in his chest, and he almost lost the Ice Heart Realm he had cultivated through ten years of hard work.

It's been ten years.

He spent ten long years in this dark and sunless cave. He survived by the faint light of the glowing moss and the silvery fish in the cold pool, maintained his clear mind by the profound mystery of the Xuanwu True Scripture and the method of inner vision, and honed his martial arts skills to an astonishing degree through countless conversations with the rock walls, the cold pool, and the darkness.

but--

He missed the stinging sensation of the sun on his skin.

I miss the real feel of the wind slipping through my fingers.

I miss being able to look up and see the sky, even if it's just a small patch.

"It's just ahead!"

At the end of the tunnel, a pile of rubble, clearly formed by a landslide, blocked the way. But through the gaps in the rubble, light—real, golden, dancing fragments of sunlight—sprinkled in like scattered gold! Not the faint, cold blue-green glow of moss, but a fiery, bright light, imbued with the warmth of life!

Nie Lingfeng stopped abruptly ten feet in front of the pile of stones, his feet carving two shallow tracks into the rock face. His chest heaved violently, not from exhaustion, but from something burning hot that seemed to be rising from his throat.

He slowly walked to the pile of stones and stretched out his hand. His fingertips trembled slightly as they touched the rock surface. The stones, some as large as millstones and others as small as bowls, were piled up haphazardly, their crevices filled with years of dust and moss. But the pile wasn't thick; he could see through the largest crack to the outside: flickering green light? Was it the shadow of trees? And… blue? Was it the sky?

"Ten years..." Nie Lingfeng murmured, his voice hoarse like the scraping of rusted iron, "more than three thousand days and nights..."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his eyes were filled with a calm as still as an icy lake.

Take three steps back, lower your waist and sit on your hips, and slowly raise both palms to your chest.

The Eighth Form of the Cloud-Dispelling Palm - Waves of Clouds!

The immense internal energy he had cultivated through ten years of arduous practice surged through his meridians like the Yangtze River, eventually converging at the Laogong acupoints in his palms. The air around him began to flow and distort abnormally, with faint white clouds gathering from the void, swirling around his arms, emitting a low, distant rumble. Dust on the rock wall was drawn down by the invisible force field.

"open!"

Extend both palms flat.

There was no earth-shattering noise.

There was only a dull, humming sound, as if the whole world was being compressed. The air in front of the pile of stones visibly solidified and deformed, like a transparent wall crashing into the rocks.

Then--

Boom!

The entire pile of rubble exploded from the inside!

It wasn't being blasted away, it was "disintegration"—under the overwhelming force of the cloud-like palm strikes, the hard rocks were as if struck simultaneously by thousands of invisible hammers, cracking, shattering, and turning into dust that filled the sky! The shockwave carried the debris back into the depths of the tunnel, scraping countless white marks on the rock walls in its wake. Nie Lingfeng stood still, the area within three feet of him completely calm, even his waist-length hair only swaying slightly.

Smoke and dust filled the air like a thick fog.

But through the smoke and dust, light—a surging, powerful light, carrying warmth and weight—rushed in like a tide!

Nie Lingfeng subconsciously closed his eyes, but two lines of clear tears uncontrollably slid down his cheeks. It wasn't sadness, but the physiological sting and scouring of his pupils when they were suddenly exposed to bright light after ten years of absolute darkness.

He waited for ten breaths before slowly and tentatively opening his eyes a crack.

Then, as if struck by lightning, he froze on the spot.

Before me lay a vast, arched natural platform, about five or six zhang wide, its edges roughened by the passage of time, covered with a thick layer of dark green moss. Several clumps of unidentified wild grasses stubbornly sprouted from the cracks in the rocks, swaying gently in the wind. Beyond the platform—the sky.

The sky was a deep, clear, and breathtakingly high. A few wispy clouds, like torn cotton wool, drifted lazily across the dome. The sun hung in the west, its golden rays pouring down without obstruction, gilding the entire platform with a warm glow.

The wind, the real wind, carrying the moisture of the Minjiang River, the fragrance of the mountains and forests, and the dry warmth of the sun baking everything, rushed against his face. His long hair, which hadn't been cut for ten years, danced wildly in the wind like a black flag; his tattered clothes fluttered in the wind, revealing his well-defined bronze skin.

Like a child learning to walk, Nie Lingfeng took his first, somewhat unsteady step onto the platform.

The rocks were slightly warm from the sun, their heat radiating through the tattered soles of his shoes. He took a deep, greedy breath, his chest filling with an unprecedented, vibrant energy.

He staggered to the edge of the platform, leaned against the rock wall, and looked down.

Then my legs went weak and I almost knelt down.

He stood... in the palm of a giant, stone-carved hand.

The five fingers are slightly curved, the palm lines are clear, each line as wide as a ravine. The palm faces upward, supporting this platform. The palm connects to the forearm, the forearm connects to the upper arm, and the upper arm connects to the shoulder—it is a giant cliff-carved Buddha, tens of meters high, half of its body embedded in the mountain, its face compassionate and peaceful, its eyelids lowered, looking down at the confluence of the three rivers flowing endlessly below.

Leshan Giant Buddha.