One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Let's rewind twenty minutes.

Zhang Chulan and Feng Baobao followed the path in the back mountain that Lao Meng had indicated, trudging through dense trees and vines. The path was even more difficult than shown on the map, almost completely submerged by overgrown vegetation, with slippery moss and loose gravel underfoot.

"Sister Bao'er, are you sure this is the way? This map can't be from twenty years ago, can it?" Zhang Chulan panted heavily as he swung his knife and cut a thorny vine blocking his path. He already had several cuts on his body.

"This is the road." Feng Baobao was certain. She walked ahead, her movements much more agile than Zhang Chulan's. The shovel she used was now a machete, hacking and slashing, carving a path through the thorns. "Look, there are marks on the trees."

Zhang Chulan went closer to look and sure enough, on the trunk of an old tree, he saw a very inconspicuous arrow mark that looked like it had been drawn with a fingernail, pointing in the direction they were going.

"There really is one... Who left this?" Zhang Chulan muttered.

"I don't know." Feng Baobao shook her head and continued forward.

After walking for about ten more minutes, the view suddenly opened up, revealing a small, relatively flat clearing in the woods. At the edge of the clearing, the rooftops of some buildings on the outskirts of Biyou Village could already be seen.

"Almost there." Zhang Chulan perked up and quickened his pace.

However, just as they were about to leave the woods—

"Whoosh!"

Without warning, a crossbow bolt shot out from the bushes on the side, aiming straight for Zhang Chulan's throat!

Zhang Chulan's hair stood on end, and the Golden Light Mantra instantly covered his neck! With a crisp "clang," the crossbow bolt was deflected, but the enormous impact still caused his neck to tilt, almost twisting it.

"We've been exposed!" he growled.

"Splash—"

The surrounding bushes shook violently, and more than a dozen figures swiftly darted out, surrounding the two! These people were also dressed as villagers, but they were agile, had sharp eyes, and their weapons were much more sophisticated—crossbows, short knives, iron rulers, and two of them held ropes that shimmered with faint runes.

The leader was a man around forty years old, with dark skin and a fierce look. He held a strangely shaped short crossbow that looked like it was made of many metal parts, and the arrowheads of the crossbow bolts gleamed with a ghostly blue light.

"Gentlemen, this road is blocked." The man's voice was hoarse, and he pointed his crossbow at Zhang Chulan. "Please turn back."

Zhang Chulan inwardly groaned, but forced a smile: "Brother, it's a misunderstanding, we were just passing by..."

"Just passing by?" the man sneered, pointing to the shovel on Feng Baobao's back and the golden light emanating from Zhang Chulan that hadn't completely subsided. "Carrying this stuff on this kind of road? You're kidding me! Attack!"

At his command, more than a dozen men rushed forward! Crossbow bolts flew, short swords whistled through the air, and the two ropes of runic light seemed to come alive, winding their way to the ankles of the two men!

"Sister Bao'er!" Zhang Chulan shouted, activating the Golden Light Mantra at full power, transforming it into a solid protective shield. At the same time, he exerted force with his feet, narrowly avoiding two crossbow bolts. Feng Baobao was even more direct, swinging her shovel in a dense, impenetrable manner, "clang clang clang," knocking away all the incoming crossbow bolts, while simultaneously kicking away an enemy who lunged at her.

However, the enemy outnumbered them and coordinated well, using ranged attacks to control them and close-quarters combat. Their two magical ropes were particularly troublesome, being exceptionally agile and specifically targeting gaps in the protective barrier. Zhang Chulan and Feng Baobao were overwhelmed and could only fight and retreat.

"Chu Lan! How are things over there?" Old Meng's voice came through the communicator, filled with urgency.

"We've been spotted! At least fifteen! And they're all pretty skilled!" Zhang Chulan reported breathlessly, dodging a rope entanglement with a lazy roll. "That rope glows! It's troublesome!"

"Withdraw! According to plan, withdraw towards the village entrance and rendezvous with Hei Guan and the others!" Old Meng decisively ordered.

"clear!"

Zhang Chulan and Feng Baobao exchanged a glance and simultaneously unleashed their power! Zhang Chulan pushed the Golden Light Mantra to its limit, unleashing a ring of energy that temporarily forced back the approaching enemies. Taking advantage of the moment, Feng Baobao shoveled it into the ground and shouted, "Run!" The two ran towards a motorcycle.

"Chase!" The burly man's expression changed, and he immediately led his men in hot pursuit, crossbow bolts shooting continuously at the two men's backs.

Thus, a comical yet thrilling scene unfolded in the back mountains of Biyou Village: Zhang Chulan and Feng Baobao rode their bicycles erratically, pursued by shouts of battle that shook the heavens, crossbow bolts pierced the air, and ropes flew. Zhang Chulan occasionally turned back to parry with his Golden Light Spell.

"Bao'er! To the left! There's a rock on the left!"

"Got it!"

"Arrows are coming from behind!"

"clang!"

The two men, in a sorry state, finally made it to the vicinity of the village entrance before their motorcycle ran out of gas, and in the distance they saw the figures of the three men with black pipes confronting Ma Xianhong.

"Brother Black Pipe! Help!" Zhang Chulan shouted at the top of his lungs, leaping off the motorcycle and rolling twice on the ground before regaining his footing, covered in dust. Feng Baobao landed lightly, dusted herself off, casually pulled a crossbow bolt from her clothes, looked at it, and tossed it aside.

The pursuing villagers also stopped not far away, watching Ma Xianhong, the person in charge of the village, warily.

Ma Xianhong looked at Zhang Chulan and Feng Baobao, who were panting and looking disheveled, then at the villagers who had obviously just been through a battle, and finally his gaze fell on the three people with black pipes. A knowing yet somewhat helpless smile appeared on his face.

"It seems that young friend Zhang Chulan and this young lady are also your companions." His tone was unreadable. "You gentlemen are truly... well-prepared."

Zhang Chulan caught his breath, walked to Hei Guan's side, and whispered, "The back mountain is heavily guarded; this road is impassable."

Hei Guan nodded and looked at Ma Xianhong: "Master Ma, what do you say now?"

Ma Xianhong pondered for a moment, then waved his hand, signaling the pursuing villagers and the guards at the village entrance to retreat. Then, he looked at Zhang Chulan, his gaze lingering on him for a long time, his eyes filled with scrutiny, inquiry, and a hint of... strange familiarity.

"Zhang Chulan," Ma Xianhong suddenly spoke, his tone much gentler, "Could we speak in private? I have something I'd like to discuss with you alone."

Zhang Chulan was taken aback and looked at Hei Guan. Hei Guan frowned, but seeing that Ma Xianhong didn't seem to have any intention of making a move immediately, and that his side also needed time to adjust and wait for news from Nie Lingfeng, he nodded slightly.

"Okay," Zhang Chulan replied.

Ma Xianhong smiled slightly, made a "please" gesture, and pointed to a detached quiet room next to the ancestral hall in the center of the village: "This way, please."

The quiet room was small and simply furnished. There was a low table, two cushions, and a calligraphy scroll with the words "Tao follows nature" hanging on the wall. In the corner, a calming sandalwood incense burner emitted wisps of smoke.

Ma Xianhong and Zhang Chulan sat facing each other. Ma Xianhong personally boiled water, warmed the cups, and brewed the tea, his movements fluid and graceful, carrying an ancient charm. The tea was top-quality Biluochun, slowly unfurling in the hot water, filling the air with its aroma.

"Please." Ma Xianhong pushed a cup of tea in front of Zhang Chulan.

Zhang Chulan didn't move, but looked at Ma Xianhong: "Master Ma, you can say what you have to say now."

Ma Xianhong didn't press the matter. He picked up his own cup, gently blew on it, took a sip, put down the cup, and his gaze fell on Zhang Chulan's face. He slowly said, "Zhang Chulan, do you know why I absolutely must see you?"

"Is it because we are all inheritors of the 'Eight Extraordinary Skills'?" Zhang Chulan probed.

"Yes and no." Ma Xianhong smiled. "There is indeed a special connection among the successors of the Eight Extraordinary Skills, as if they are connected by an invisible thread. But that is not the main reason."

He paused, leaned forward slightly, and his gaze deepened: "The main reason is that you and I, in a sense, are 'the same kind'."

"similar?"

"Yes." Ma Xianhong nodded. "We were all chosen by the 'legacy,' burdened with the grudges and secrets of the previous generation, forced into this vortex, and forced to find our own path in the cracks. The difference is that I chose to step out, established Biyou Village, and tried to change something in my own way. And you..."

He scrutinized Zhang Chulan closely: "You chose to hide, you chose to disguise yourself, you chose to survive cautiously amidst the various forces at play. There's no right or wrong in that, it's just a different choice."

Zhang Chulan remained silent. Ma Xianhong's words were like a needle, piercing through the protective layer he had carefully maintained.

"Master Ma," Zhang Chulan raised his head and looked directly at the other man, "you just said outside that you created the Body Cultivation Furnace to give ordinary people a fair chance. I admit, your ideal sounds wonderful. But have you asked those ordinary people if they really want this kind of 'opportunity'? Have you asked those superhumans you transformed if they regret it? And those who failed…"

His tone was calm, but every word carried weight: "My grandfather, Zhang Huaiyi, lived his entire life in anonymity to protect the secret of the Qi Source Flow, ultimately dying a tragic death in the wilderness. My father's whereabouts are unknown. From a young age, I was taught to hide myself, to act like an ordinary person, even sleeping with one eye open. Do you understand the price I paid?"

The smile on Ma Xianhong's face faded.

"You said we're the same kind, both burdened with inheritances," Zhang Chulan continued, his voice low but each word clear. "Then, according to seniority, my grandfather and your master, Ma Benzai, were sworn brothers. I am, in a sense, your senior uncle."

Ma Xianhong's eyes narrowed.

"As your senior apprentice, I want to remind you of something," Zhang Chulan said, looking at Ma Xianhong with a weariness and clarity beyond his years. "'Divine Mechanism Hundred Refinements' is remarkable, and the Body Cultivation Furnace is even more astonishing. But with great power comes great responsibility, and this isn't just a saying. If your furnace goes out of control, or falls into the hands of someone with ulterior motives, how much bloodshed will it unleash? How many people will be killed? How many families will be destroyed? Have you thought about that?"

He paused, his tone growing even heavier: "And then there's Chen Duo. You may have taken her in out of kindness. But she killed Uncle Liao, and the company won't let her get away with it!"

A series of questions struck Ma Xianhong like a hammer blow. The calm on his face was finally broken. His brows furrowed, and his eyes fluctuated violently, showing shock, anger, the embarrassment of having his thoughts exposed, and even deeper struggle and reflection.

The aroma of tea still wafted through the quiet room, but the atmosphere was so heavy it was suffocating.

After a long while, Ma Xianhong slowly exhaled, leaned back in his chair, and a complex smile appeared on his face, a mixture of bitterness and relief.

"Zhang Chulan," he said softly, a hint of weariness in his voice for the first time, "you are much more clear-headed than I imagined. And... much sharper."

"If you weren't clear-headed and sharp-witted, you wouldn't have survived this long." Zhang Chulan picked up the cup of tea, which had already cooled slightly, and drank it all in one gulp. His movements carried the stubbornness of a young man, yet also revealed a sense of vicissitude.

Ma Xianhong looked at him and remained silent for a long time. Sunlight streamed through the window lattice, casting dappled shadows on the ground that moved slowly.

"Perhaps... you're right," Ma Xianhong finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. "I've thought too simply, too idealistically, about some things. The Body Cultivation Furnace... does indeed have many hidden dangers. As for Chen Duo's matter... I also didn't consider it carefully."

He raised his head, looking at Zhang Chulan, his eyes regaining some clarity: "But Biyou Village, these villagers, they trust me, they follow me. I can't abandon them. As for Chen Duo... she's calm now, at least calmer than when she was at the company. I'll find a way to give her a better place."

Zhang Chulan looked at Ma Xianhong but didn't answer immediately. He could sense that at least part of Ma Xianhong's words were sincere. This man wasn't purely an ambitious person or a madman; he had his own ideals and principles, but... he had gone astray.

"Master Ma," Zhang Chulan put down his teacup, "your ideals may not be wrong. But you may have taken the wrong path. It might not be too late to turn back now."

Ma Xianhong smiled but didn't reply. He simply picked up the teapot again and poured hot tea for the two of them.

Silence fell once more in the quiet room. But this silence was different from the previous one; it contained less confrontation and more heaviness and contemplation.

On the tall, black-tiled roof of the ancestral hall, in the shadow of a roof ridge, Nie Lingfeng lay quietly, seemingly blending into the environment.

His aura was so concealed that it was almost impossible to sense his presence without seeing it firsthand. His long, gray hair was carefully tied back with a strip of cloth, and his dark gray outfit matched the color of the roof tiles. The yin-yang jade pendant on his chest emitted a warm, cool sensation, helping him better blend into the flow of energy in his surroundings.

He heard the conversation in the quiet room below very clearly.

Zhang Chulan's performance surprised him, yet also pleased him. This seemingly cunning and overly cautious young man had, at a crucial moment, uttered such clear-headed and weighty words. It seemed that the Luo Tian Grand Ceremony and his subsequent experiences had indeed matured him considerably.

Ma Xianhong's reaction was within his expectations. He was an idealist with ideals and abilities, but he was too immersed in his own beliefs and ignored the complexity and cruelty of reality. Zhang Chulan's words were like a bucket of cold water, perhaps sobering him up a bit.

However, Nie Lingfeng's focus was never on the quiet room.

His gaze pierced through the cracks in the skylight of the ancestral hall, reaching deep into the hall itself.

There, a slender figure could be vaguely seen from behind.

Chen Duo.

She stood with her back to the skylight, beside a pillar deep within the ancestral hall, her head slightly tilted back, seemingly gazing at the mottled murals on the wall, or perhaps simply lost in thought. She was still wearing her blue-purple Miao ethnic costume, the silver ornaments occasionally gleaming dimly in the faint light filtering through the high window. On her neck and arms, the bluish-black, root-like or crack-like markings of Gu poison were faintly visible in the dim light.

She stood straight and motionless, like a lifeless statue. Only occasionally, when faint noises or birdsong came from outside, would her head turn very slightly before returning to its original position.

Nie Lingfeng looked at her quietly.

In my mind, the image of the girl from the original story who turned to ashes in the sunlight appears, the girl who hollowly said, "This is my own choice," the girl who never understood what "normal" and "happiness" were until her death.

The conversation between Zhang Chulan and Ma Xianhong seemed to be nearing its end.

The atmosphere in the village had become even more tense and subtle due to the conflict on the back mountain and the arrival of Zhang Chulan and his companion. Hei Guan, Xiao Zizai, and Wang Zhenqiu were "politely" invited by Ma Xianhong's men to wait in the open space in front of the ancestral hall, subtly creating a standoff with the core members and some villagers. Feng Baobao squatted at the edge of the open space, pulling out an apple from somewhere and crunching it on, seemingly oblivious to the tension around her.

The time is almost here.

Nie Lingfeng adjusted his breathing, bringing his body to its optimal state. His gaze was fixed firmly on the lonely figure deep within the ancestral hall.

hold on.

He said to himself.

Wait for me to take you away.