One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

But everyone understood the meaning behind this gesture. It was a gesture, a test—he was telling Nie Lingfeng: We are willing to talk, but don't think we're afraid.

"It's very simple." Nie Lingfeng's voice wasn't loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.

There was no smugness, no threat, not even any emotion in that voice; it was as if he were stating a fact that had nothing to do with him. But it was precisely this calmness that made people feel even more uneasy.

"I now have control of the missile. I can choose to leave it here, or I can choose to send it wherever I want it to go—for example, over your headquarters, or somewhere more 'lively'."

This was said in a very plain way.

But to everyone present, including Zhang Chulan and the others on their side, a chill ran from the soles of their feet straight to the top of their heads.

Zhang Chulan inwardly screamed: Holy crap! Brother Nie's threat... is too ruthless! He's practically flipping the table! He still had to keep a straight face, putting on a cool expression that said, "That's right, my older brother is that awesome," though his calves were a little cramped. He secretly put his hands behind his back and wiped the sweat from his palms on the hem of Daoist Wang Ye's clothes.

Bald Bear's face was as black as the bottom of a pot.

He wanted to curse, to hurl insults at Nie Lingfeng's ancestors for eighteen generations. But looking at the finger hovering over the button, he swallowed the words back. That finger was like a knife hanging over his head, ready to fall at any moment.

He forced out a few words through gritted teeth: "You... dare?!"

The voice wasn't loud, but every word sounded like it was dug out from the depths of a throat, carrying a fierce and metallic quality.

"You can try and see if I dare."

Nie Lingfeng glanced at him. His gaze was calm and unwavering, as if he were looking at a stone, a tree, or something completely unrelated to him.

But this made Baldy Bear's heart skip a beat.

This kind of calm is often more terrifying than rage. At least rage has an underlying emotion, a weakness to exploit. This calm—is like a deep pool, its depths unfathomable, its depths unreadable, and its contents unseen.

State your conditions.

The elderly man from the Sakura Kingdom, holding a sword, spoke slowly, his voice hoarse. He sheathed his sword very slowly, as if afraid of disturbing something, the blade sliding into its sheath little by little, making a soft "click" sound.

He knew he had lost the initiative. All he could do now was minimize the losses.

"First, release our people immediately. Wang Zhenqiu, Gao Yuhuan, and all our detained members. Ensure their safety and transport them to the designated location."

Nie Lingfeng made his first request.

The voice wasn't loud, but everyone could hear it—this was the bottom line, and there was no room for negotiation.

Bald Bear's face changed colors like a kaleidoscope, alternating between red, white, green, and purple. He glanced at the collapsed giant monster—the thing was almost completely shattered, with grayish-white powder piled up on the ground, leaving only a barely discernible outline—and then looked at Nie Lingfeng's fingers.

Finally, he managed to squeeze out a single word through gritted teeth:

"……good."

This single word seemed to have used all his strength.

He growled a few words into the walkie-talkie. His voice was so low that the content was indistinct, but his resentment and rage could be felt even from more than ten meters away.

Soon, the small door on the side opened again.

Several figures were pushed forward. They were Wang Zhenqiu, Gao Yuhuan, and two other extraordinary individuals from the Northeast region. They were all bound by specially made shackles, their wrists and ankles encircled by dark silver metal rings covered with densely packed sealing runes. They bore injuries—Wang Zhenqiu had a scabbed wound above his left eyebrow, the bloodstains extending to his temple; Gao Yuhuan's right arm was in a sling, his elbow swollen and shiny, likely dislocated.

But his spirits are still good.

The moment they were pushed out, they clearly didn't understand what was happening. Wang Zhenqiu squinted to adjust to the dim light in the hall, and then he saw the scene before him—the collapsed giant, the shattered ground, the corpses lying in disarray, the control panel next to the missile, and Nie Lingfeng standing in front of the control panel, his finger hovering over the button.

He froze for a moment.

Then he saw Zhang Chulan winking at him, Wang Ye leaning against a pillar giving him an "OK" sign, and Chen Duo standing in the corner holding Xiao Yun, nodding slightly to him.

He probably understood something, and a look of relief appeared on his face, before he put on his usual nonchalant expression again.

"Qiu'er! Yu Huan! Are you alright?" Zhang Chulan couldn't help but call out.

"It's nothing! I'm just a little hungry." Wang Zhenqiu moved his wrists, which had been unshackled and had a red mark around them. "That bald bear is really stingy. He only gave us two black breads in three days, and they were hard enough to kill someone. I suspect he's trying to fool us with the bricks he has in stock."

Although he was joking around, his pupils still contracted slightly when his gaze swept over the collapsed giant and the mess in the hall. Especially when he saw the bottomless pit and the solidified lava traces at its edge, his smile froze for a moment.

Gao Yuhuan didn't speak, but nodded to Zhang Chulan, then silently walked to the side, sat down against the wall, and closed his eyes to rest. His dislocated arm was set by the accompanying medical superhuman, and although he was sweating from the pain, he didn't utter a sound.

"We've given you the person! What are your conditions? Speak up now!"

Bald Bear roared impatiently. All he wanted now was to end this damn standoff as soon as possible, regain control, or find a way to eliminate this threat—either way, it was better than this stalemate.

"second."

Nie Lingfeng continued, his finger still hovering over the button, motionless.

"The decision on the missiles must be renegotiated. The previous decision on who won by the highest bidder is null and void. Now, let's settle things with force."

"fist?"

The scarred, burly man narrowed his eyes, seemingly intrigued. The wound on his back still ached, but that pain seemed insignificant compared to those three words.

"That's right. A ring match."

Nie Lingfeng's voice was neither loud nor soft, as if he were talking about something extremely ordinary.

“Three parties—no, now it’s four parties.” He glanced at the bald bear, “including you. Each party sends a representative, and the matches will be drawn by lot, best two out of three. The final winner will have the right to dispose of the missiles. As for the other ‘good stuff’—” He glanced meaningfully at the collapsed giant and the deep crater in the ground, “that can be discussed separately.”

"A tournament? Heh, interesting."

The man in the suit adjusted his glasses, the glare obscuring his eyes. His fingers swiped rapidly across the tablet, as if he were calculating something.

"But how can we be sure that once you have the power to dispose of the goods, you won't just press the button or do something else? After all, you have the control."

"Therefore, there needs to be an agreement."

Nie Lingfeng seemed to have been prepared.

"The four parties jointly signed an agreement, guaranteeing it with their respective power, reputation, and even certain... special means. The agreement is simple: the victor gains the right to dispose of the missile, and the loser must do everything in their power to protect the victor and his personnel, ensuring their safe departure from Ussuriysk, and refrain from any form of retaliation or looting afterward, until the victor delivers the missile to a safe location of his choosing. If any party violates this agreement, the other three parties will jointly punish him, and his or her forces will become common enemies."

"Protect the winner to leave?"

The elderly servant from the Sakura Kingdom gave a cold laugh. The laugh was dry and harsh, like a withered branch breaking.

"If your side wins, do you expect the three of us to escort you back to China?"

"Why not?"

Nie Lingfeng countered with a flat question, as if asking, "Is the weather nice today?"

"Or perhaps you lack confidence in your own abilities and believe you will inevitably lose to me? Or would you prefer to test the power of this missile together now?"

Silence again.

The suited elite pondered for a moment, then looked at the people from the Sakura Country and the Bear Country.

"From the perspective of risk control and maximizing benefits, this proposal is feasible to some extent. At least it avoids the worst outcome and gives us each a chance to fight for it."

"I agree."

The elderly man from the Cherry Blossom Country slowly sheathed his sword, his movements deliberate, like a ritual.

His face remained gloomy, like the sky before a storm.

"But the agreement must be fair. It needs to have sufficient witnesses and binding force."

"Fine, let's fight! Do you think I'm afraid of you?!"

The scarred, burly man spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, which landed on the ground with a "thud," leaving a small pool of dark red.

His gaze swept fiercely over the crowd, like a beast sizing up its opponent.

"But the rules must be clearly defined! How will we fight? How many people will we send? Will it be a matter of life and death?"

Bald Bear looked grim.

He'd lost everything – the man was released, control of the missiles was lost, and now he had to participate in this ridiculous tournament. He cursed Nie Lingfeng's ancestors in his mind, but could only agree verbally.

Circumstances dictate his actions. His greatest assets—the trolls and missile control—are gone. His men have suffered heavy casualties, Ivan is still coughing up blood, and few of those remaining are capable fighters. If he doesn't agree, he'll likely be the first to be eliminated.

"...Fine! But the arena must be on my turf! Also, if you win, the missiles are yours, but what about the stuff I have underground?"

"The underground objects, once the arena is over, the winner has the right to explore and dispose of them first, but a portion of the profits must be shared with the owner of this place, which is you, as a fee for the venue and... 'safekeeping'."

Nie Lingfeng gave a vague but still acceptable explanation.

The most important thing now is to deal with the missiles. As for the mess underground, we can explore it slowly once it's safer.

Bald Bear grunted, which was taken as tacit agreement.

All he wants now is to save his life and his basic interests. He'd be lucky to get even a scrap of meat out of these wolves and tigers.

"Since no one has any objections, let's draft an agreement and each of us leave our mark or a token as proof."

The suit-wearing elite seemed very familiar with this process, pulling out an exquisite tablet computer from his pocket—made of some special alloy, with densely packed runes on the frame, and emitting a faint blue light when the screen lit up—and beginning to operate it quickly.

"I suggest that we use the name of the Four-Party Organization, adding a blood seal and a unique energy imprint. Anyone who goes back on their word will be relentlessly hunted down by the other three parties, and their organization will be blacklisted by the relevant international supernatural community."

Soon, a simple agreement written in Chinese, Japanese, English, and Russian was drafted and projected onto a relatively intact wall.

The content was roughly as Nie Lingfeng had described, only with more detailed specifications, including the rules of the arena: each side would send three representatives, who would draw lots to determine their opponents. Matches would be best-of-three, with the winner advancing. Surrender was acceptable, but death was not a concern. The arena was a cleared area in the hall, with Bald Bear's men handling the simple setup and acting as referees—though lacking credibility, they served as witnesses.

Although the agreement was rudimentary, everyone present knew that in the current environment, such an agreement, sworn in blood and witnessed by multiple parties, was more binding than any legal provision.

After all, no one wants to be targeted and hunted down by several other major forces at the same time, especially by superpower organizations that represent the official or semi-official forces of various countries.

Soon, the representatives from the four parties—Nie Lingfeng, the suit-wearing elite, the knife-wielding old man, and the scarred strongman—each left their organization's emblem and signature below the agreement, and forced out a drop of blood essence, mixed with unique Qi, to imprint on the agreement.