One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Nie Lingfeng shuddered and looked down. The Qilin tattoo on his chest was flashing violently, and the golden pillar of light was suppressing the Qilin's power, trying to extinguish the flames.

"The Golden Light Mantra of Longhu Mountain?" Nie Lingfeng looked up at the old Taoist priest. "No, it's even stronger than the Golden Light Mantra. This is... the Purple Gold Eight Trigrams Mirror?"

The old Taoist priest didn't answer, but continued to activate the bronze mirror, making the golden beam of light stronger and thicker. The golden-red light on Nie Lingfeng's chest tattoo gradually dimmed.

But Nie Lingfeng didn't panic.

He raised his hand and made a grasping motion towards the old Taoist priest.

"Threefold Return to Origin - Primordial Chaos Technique!"

A large, hazy hand materialized out of thin air and grabbed the old Taoist priest! The old priest tried to escape, but the hand was like an iron clamp, and he couldn't break free no matter how hard he struggled. The hand slowly tightened, and the old priest's bones cracked and popped. He screamed, spitting blood onto the bronze mirror. The mirror's light shone brightly for a moment, but it was only a brief reflection. The next second, the hand closed completely—

"Snap!"

The old Taoist priest's body was crushed into a bloody, mangled ball of flesh, fell to the ground, rolled a few times, and then lay still.

The bronze mirror fell to the ground, its surface covered with cracks that spread like a spider web. Finally, with a "crack," it shattered into dozens of pieces.

Nie Lingfeng withdrew his hand and looked around.

The flames were still burning, but there were no survivors. Dozens of charred corpses lay scattered throughout the tunnel, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning flesh. Those who hadn't been directly burned to death had perished in the previous attack.

Hundreds of enemies were wiped out.

The tunnel was deathly silent.

All that remained were the crackling sounds of the flames and the ever-growing sirens of police cars in the distance.

The "messenger" stood at the back of the crowd, his face as pale as paper.

His white suit was charred in several places by the flames, and smoke was still rising from the cuffs. The lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses were shattered, revealing a pair of terrified eyes—eyes wide open, the pupils almost popping out of their sockets, the pupils contracted to pinpoints.

His lips trembled; he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. His hands trembled, his legs trembled, his whole body trembled. A warm liquid flowed down his trouser leg, forming a small puddle on the ground—he had wet himself in fear.

Nie Lingfeng slowly walked towards him.

Each step was slow and steady, the soles of his shoes making a soft "plop" sound as they trod on the charred corpse. The Qilin tattoo on his chest was still glowing faintly, the golden-red light reflecting on his face, making his expression appear to flicker.

The "messenger" tried to escape, but his legs wouldn't obey him. With one step, he collapsed to the ground. He crawled backward, his hands clawing wildly at the ground, his nails splitting and bleeding profusely, but he felt no pain, only continuing to crawl backward.

"No...no..." he finally managed to utter, but his voice was hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing against glass, "Don't kill me...please...no..."

Nie Lingfeng walked up to him and squatted down.

The tip of the Snow Drinking Blade was pressed against his throat, and the icy touch made him stiffen, too afraid to move.

"Now," Nie Lingfeng's voice was calm, as calm as if he were chatting casually, "it's your turn."

"I...I was just a messenger..." The messenger cried, his face covered in snot and tears, his glasses askew, his hair disheveled, all traces of his previous composure and elegance gone. "I know nothing...I really know nothing..."

"Then tell me, you know." The knife tip moved forward half a millimeter, piercing the skin, and a drop of blood seeped out. "'That person,' who is he? Where is he? What does he want to do?"

"I don't know... I really don't know..." The envoy shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his face. "I only saw him once... He was incredibly strong... inhumanly strong... He had many subordinates all over the world... I... I was just one of them, responsible for delivering messages..."

"What does he look like?"

"I couldn't see clearly... He was wearing a black robe and a mask... His voice... didn't sound human, it sounded like... like many voices mixed together..." the messenger recalled, his eyes filled with fear. "He said... he was looking for the key..."

Nie Lingfeng's eyes narrowed: "A key? What key?"

"The key to...the key to open the 'door'..." the messenger said, trembling. "He said this world...is locked. Only by finding the key and opening the door can true...evolution be ushered in..."

"What does the Twenty-Four Solar Terms have to do with him?"

"The Twenty-Four Solar Terms Valley... is one of the entrances to the 'Gate'..." the messenger said. "He sent people... to find the key... Zhang Chulan and the others... may already be..."

"Already what?"

"We've already... fallen into a trap..." the messenger said, his expression suddenly changing.

The change happened so fast that Nie Lingfeng couldn't react in time. The envoy's eyes rolled upwards, revealing the whites, his mouth opened wide, his tongue protruded, and a "hoarse" sound came from his throat. Then—

"puff!"

A mouthful of black blood spurted from his mouth, carrying a strong, foul odor. It splattered on the ground and even corroded the concrete, creating tiny pits.

The messenger's body twitched twice, his head lolled to the side, and he breathed his last.

Nie Lingfeng reached out and checked his breath, then flipped his eyelids. He was dead; his soul had self-destructed, utterly dead, without even a chance to search his soul.

"The trail has gone cold again," he muttered under his breath, and stood up.

"Nie Lingfeng." Chen Duo's voice came from behind.

Nie Lingfeng turned around. Chen Duo stood a few meters away, her face as pale as paper. The phoenix phantom behind her had dissipated, but she looked like she was about to collapse. There were several charred marks on her combat uniform, left by the blasts from the battle just now. Although she tried her best to dodge, it was impossible to completely avoid such a dense barrage of attacks.

"Are you alright?" Nie Lingfeng quickly walked over and helped her up.

Chen Duo shook her head, but her body weight was already leaning on him. Her breathing was rapid, her heart was pounding, and her skin was frighteningly hot—a side effect of the excessive consumption of her bloodline power.

"Take a rest." Nie Lingfeng helped her sit down against the wall, took out a small porcelain bottle from his pocket, poured out two pills, swallowed one himself, and handed the other to Chen Duo, "Made from Yaochi Jade Marrow, to restore qi and blood."

Chen Duo took it, swallowed it, and closed her eyes to regulate her breathing.

Nie Lingfeng leaned against the wall, looking into the distance of the tunnel. The sound of sirens grew closer, red and blue police lights flashed at the tunnel entrance, and he could see many figures moving about, along with the barking of dogs and announcements coming from a loudspeaker.

"Let's leave here first," he said. "To the Valley of the Twenty-Four Solar Terms."

Chen Duo opened her eyes and nodded.

The two left through the maintenance passage at the other end of the tunnel. It was a narrow iron ladder, just wide enough for one person to pass through, leading to the ground. The ladder was steep and rusty, creaking with every step. Nie Lingfeng walked in front, Chen Duo followed behind, their footsteps echoing in the narrow passage.

After climbing for about five minutes, a round manhole cover appeared above him. Nie Lingfeng pushed the cover open and peeked out to take a look—outside was a quiet alley, piled with debris and garbage, and no one was around.

He climbed out, turned around and pulled Chen Duo up, then put the manhole cover back in place.

At the end of the alley was a street, dimly lit by streetlights, with the occasional vehicle passing by. In the distance, towards the station, flames soared into the sky, sirens wailed, and helicopters roared overhead. The entire city was in an uproar.

Nie Lingfeng led Chen Duo through the alleyways, winding and turning, before finally stopping in front of a small inn. It was one of those old, family-run inns hidden in a residential area; the lettering on the sign was faded, half bright and half dim.

He knocked on the door.

After a while, an old man in pajamas opened the door, glancing at them sleepily: "Accommodation?"

"Hmm." Nie Lingfeng pulled out a few bills. "Two rooms, next to each other."

The old man took the money, tossed them two keys, yawned, and went back to his room to continue sleeping.

The room was on the third floor; it was small, containing only a bed, a wardrobe, and an old-fashioned television. The curtains were riddled with cigarette burn holes, and the floorboards creaked underfoot. But at least it was clean; the sheets had just been changed and still smelled of laundry detergent.

Nie Lingfeng checked the room to make sure there were no listening devices, then told Chen Duo to rest. He sat by the window, pulled back a curtain slightly, and looked out at the street.

In the distance, police cars were still blaring their sirens, but the sound was fading into the distance.

He looked down at the Qilin tattoo on his chest. The tattoo was slightly warm, and a golden-red light shone through his skin, flickering like a heartbeat. During the battle just now, he could feel the power contained within the tattoo had increased even more—that was the Jade Marrow of Yaochi continuously working, allowing the Qilin bloodline to evolve.

But the stronger he became, the more uneasy he felt.

"Key", "Door", "Evolution"...

What exactly does "that person" want to do?

What awaits Zhang Chulan and his companions in the Twenty-Four Solar Terms Valley?

He clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.

"Nie Lingfeng." Chen Duo's voice came from the bed, very softly.

Nie Lingfeng turned around. Chen Duo lay on her side on the bed, her face turned towards him, her eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.

"What is that door?" she asked.

Nie Lingfeng was silent for a moment, then shook his head: "I don't know. But it's definitely not something good."

Will we win?

Nie Lingfeng looked at her and smiled.

The smile was faint in the darkness, but it was genuine, carrying a reassuring power.

"Of course we will," he said. "With me here, with you here, with Chu Lan, Bao Bao, Wang Ye, Zhuge Qing, Zhang Lingyu and the others... we will definitely win."

Chen Duo stared at him for a long time.

Then, she nodded very, very slightly.

"Um."

She closed her eyes, her breathing gradually became steady, and she fell asleep.

Nie Lingfeng withdrew his gaze and continued looking out the window.

The night was deep, and the city lights twinkled in the distance, like countless eyes peering into the darkness.

The Qilin tattoo on his chest was slightly warm, like a heart that would never be extinguished.

---

Thousands of miles away, deep in the Twenty-Four Seasons Valley.

Moonlight filtered through the cracks in the rocks, casting dappled shadows on the ground. These shadows were not still; they moved slowly, as if alive, crawling on the ground, climbing the stone walls, and wandering in the darkness.

Zhang Chulan leaned against a boulder, panting heavily.

His clothes were torn in several places, revealing the wounds underneath. The wounds weren't deep, but there were many of them, densely packed on his arms, back, and thighs, each one oozing blood. Blood and sweat mixed together, soaking his clothes completely, making them sticky and cold against his body.

Feng Baobao squatted beside him, holding a bandage in her hand, clumsily trying to bandage him. She first tried wrapping the bandage around his arm, but it was too tight, leaving a red mark. She tried loosening it a little, but it was too loose again, and the bandage slipped down. She was so anxious that sweat beaded on her forehead, her brows furrowed, and she muttered, "This… how do I do this…?"

"Sister Bao'er, take a break." Zhang Chulan smiled wryly, "I can do it myself."

He took the bandage, quickly wrapped it around his neck, and tied a knot. Feng Baobao squatted beside him, watching intently, as if she were learning, but it was unclear whether she had actually mastered it.

Wang Ye leaned against the stone wall on the other side, his Taoist robe torn in several places, his hair disheveled as if he had just crawled out of a chicken coop. But his eyes were still clear, and he held a compass in his hand, staring at the wildly spinning needle.

"This place is fucking creepy," he cursed, his tone unusually irritated. "Arrays within arrays, illusions within illusions, every three steps there's an obstacle, every fall there a pit. I just counted, we've been wandering around this godforsaken place for eight hours, walked at least twenty miles, and guess what?"

Nobody guessed.

"It's no more than fifty meters away from that place as the crow flies." He pointed to the compass. "This thing was passed down from my master. I've followed it for twenty years and it's never made a mistake. Now—it's gone mad."