One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Zhang Zhiwei looked at Chairman Zhao.

"The old Taoist recommends Layman Nie. He has profound cultivation, rich experience, outstanding decision-making ability in battle, and has already fought against the 'Mother Nest' and has a certain understanding of its characteristics. He is the most suitable person to serve as the commander-in-chief."

His tone left no room for negotiation—not domineering, but resolute.

What are your thoughts, everyone?

When the Celestial Master speaks, it carries immense weight.

Most of those present had no objections. Not because they dared not object, but because they genuinely couldn't think of a more suitable candidate. They had heard of Nie Lingfeng's strength, knew of his surviving return from the underground base, and, moreover, the Celestial Master had personally recommended him…

Those few who had their own opinions, seeing that the Celestial Master had already said so, could no longer object.

"Since the Celestial Master recommends it, we have no objections."

Feng Zhenghao was the first to speak. His voice was crisp and decisive, without hesitation. He was a decisive person; once he made a decision, he wouldn't hesitate.

I second that.

The abbot of Shaolin nodded. His movements were slow, but resolute.

"I have no objection either."

"The head of the Lu family said with a chuckle. When he nodded with a smile, the flesh on his face was trembling, making him look very festive."

"Hmph, since the Celestial Master has said so, then let that brat surnamed Nie give it a try."

Although the head of the Lü family sounded somewhat displeased, he didn't object. He didn't like entrusting such an important task to a "junior"—in his view, while Nie Lingfeng was quite capable, he was still relatively inexperienced and shouldn't bear such a heavy responsibility. However, he also knew that his personality was prone to offending people, so since the Celestial Master had spoken, he accepted the offer.

The others nodded in agreement, which was considered acceptable. Mu You nodded very slightly, almost imperceptibly, but Chairman Zhao saw it and took it as his consent.

"it is good."

Seeing that the situation was under control, Chairman Zhao breathed a sigh of relief. He leaned back in his chair, his shoulders slumping slightly—a sign of his relaxation, a gesture he only made when he felt things were settled.

"In that case, our company, together with the core forces of Tianshi Mansion, Wudang, Shaolin, Lu Family, and Tianxia Society, should draft a set of rules as soon as possible regarding the framework of the clearing command and the allocation of personnel. Each faction should also submit the list of selected personnel and their qualifications to the command for record within half a month."

"As for Xiao Nie—"

Chairman Zhao looked at the Celestial Master.

"I will inform him and tell him to focus on recovering and getting better as soon as possible. Once he comes out of seclusion, he will probably have to take on this heavy responsibility."

"good."

Zhang Zhiwei nodded slightly.

A hint of anticipation flickered in his eyes. It wasn't the kind of anticipation one feels for a younger generation to succeed, but a deeper, purer kind of anticipation—like a chess player who has heard of a very talented young man and wants to know just how far he can go.

"The old Taoist priest is also very curious: after going through this ordeal, how far can that young layman go?"

The meeting of the ten elders concluded in a solemn yet orderly atmosphere.

A massive plan, comprised of top-tier forces in the world of superhumans, aimed at completely eliminating the scourge left by the "Polaris Council," has quietly begun to take shape.

And at this moment—

Nie Lingfeng, who was far away in a sanatorium on the outskirts of Beijing, was unaware of the specific content of the meeting of the Ten Elders, nor did he know that he had been "pre-selected" as the commander-in-chief of the cleanup operation.

He was sitting cross-legged on a futon in the quiet room.

The quiet room was small, about ten square meters, with four white walls and no windows. A calligraphy scroll hung on the wall, bearing a large character "静" (quiet), the ink strokes vigorous and powerful. The floor was wooden, covered with a thin layer of cattail mats.

He sat on a futon, his face turned upwards.

Place your hands naturally on your knees, with your thumbs and forefingers lightly touching to form a circle. Keep your back straight, shoulder blades slightly retracted, and chest open. Tuck your chin slightly and place the tip of your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

The pure Qi within the body flowed slowly along the damaged meridians like a stream. The Qi was not abundant, but it was very pure, like melted snow water, cool and clear. It started from the Dantian, followed the meridian pathways, passing through the perineum, Mingmen, Jiaji, and Yuzhen, all the way upwards to Baihui, then descended from the front, passing through Yintang, Tanzhong, and Qihai, returning to the Dantian.

Round and round. Each lap takes away a trace of fatigue and heals a hidden wound.

They are repairing the hidden wounds left by that battle.

Those hidden injuries weren't just physical—torn muscles, severed capillaries, depleted meridians—but also deeper, "cracks" at the level of Qi. That one cut had overdrawn too much, not just Qi, but also the mind, the spirit, and something else indescribable.

The sword intent of the Snow Drinking Blade floated and sank in his sea of ​​consciousness.

That sword intent wasn't a specific technique, but a "feeling"—cold, sharp, and unstoppable. It was like an ice-blue fish, slowly swimming in his sea of ​​consciousness, occasionally flicking its tail to create ripples.

The insights gained from the Cloud-Dispelling Palm, Heavenly Frost Fist, Wind God Leg, and even the Creation Blade began to slowly merge and sublimate under the pressure of life and death.

Those insights used to be separate, each operating independently. The Cloud-Dispelling Palm was the Cloud-Dispelling Palm, the Heavenly Frost Fist was the Heavenly Frost Fist, the Wind God Leg was the Wind God Leg, and the Creation Blade was the Creation Blade. They were like several different types of keys, inserted into different locks, without interfering with each other.

But after that one strike—the one that embodied all techniques, all energy, and all will—they began to merge. Not "unite," not "combine," but "merge," becoming something new, belonging to no particular school.

Outside the window, the moonlight is bright and clear, and the shadows of the trees sway gently.

The ginkgo tree in the sanatorium courtyard was bathed in a silvery-white luster under the moonlight. Most of the leaves had already fallen, and the few remaining ones swayed gently in the wind, with one occasionally drifting down and silently landing on the grass.

In the next room, Chen Duo was gently patting Xiao Yun, who was already fast asleep.

Xiaoyun was sleeping soundly. Her brows finally relaxed, no longer furrowed as if she were having a nightmare. A peaceful smile graced her lips, as if she were dreaming of something beautiful—perhaps building a snowman in the snow, perhaps eating candied hawthorns, or perhaps simply being with Nie Lingfeng in a place without monsters, darkness, or fear.

Chen Duo hummed an unknown, ancient lullaby.

She had never learned that piece of music, nor had anyone taught it to her. It had been in her memory since she was very young. The melody was simple, with only a few notes, repeating endlessly, like a circle that would never end.

Her voice was so soft that only Xiaoyun could hear it.

My fingers gently and rhythmically patted Xiaoyun's back, one pat after another. Each pat was spaced out, like a heartbeat.

The turmoil has not yet subsided, and a major battle is imminent.

Those things that weren't killed by the ice are slowly recovering in the darkness. Truths hidden for too long are gradually surfacing. People who were once strangers are about to come together because of a shared goal.

But at this moment—

This small courtyard offers a rare tranquility and warmth.

Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, drawing a thin silver line on the floor. A faint herbal scent filled the air—it emanated from Chen Duo's medicine box, not pungent, but rather a comforting and warm aroma.

A dog barked once or twice in the distance, then it fell silent again.

Time flies like an arrow; in the blink of an eye, a week has passed since that thrilling trip to the underground base.

In a sanatorium on the outskirts of Beijing, in a secluded courtyard surrounded by a dense bamboo forest, the morning light is faint and the birdsong is melodious.

The bamboo leaves were still deep green, but the edges had turned slightly yellow, a trace quietly left by the messenger of early winter. The wind rustled through the trees, the bamboo leaves rubbing against each other, making a soft "shush" sound, like someone whispering. The mist hadn't completely dissipated, wisps of it drifting among the bamboo stalks like white ribbons, gently pulled by the wind, then slowly loosening.

A faint scent of Chinese herbs permeated the air. The aroma wasn't strong, but it lingered, as if it seeped from every brick, every tile, and every inch of soil. Mixed with the unique freshness of grass and trees in the morning, it made one want to take a deep breath as soon as they entered, and then slowly and contentedly exhale.

In the center of the courtyard, Chen Duo sat cross-legged on a bluestone slab that was warm from the sun.

The bluestone slab was about one meter square, with a smooth surface and a thin layer of moss growing on the edges, making it feel fuzzy to the touch. After being exposed to the rising sun for a while, the slab was no longer cold to the touch, but rather had a warm feeling, as if it had been warmed by a person's body heat.

Her eyes were slightly closed, her eyelashes casting two small fan-shaped shadows on her eyelids. Her hands formed a mudra, her ten fingers interlaced and pressed together, thumbs touching, index fingers interlocked, and the other three fingers spread out, resembling a half-open flower. It was the starting mudra of the Phoenix True Fire Technique, but in the past few days, she had modified it herself, slightly adjusting the angle of her fingers to better suit her slender fingers.

In the palm of his hand, a strange flame, the size of a fist, fiery red in color yet faintly shimmering with iridescent light, leaped and flowed as if it were alive.

The flame was not still. Its shape changed constantly—sometimes stretching like a snake, sometimes shrinking into a sphere, sometimes rolling around in the palm of your hand like a playful pet. The flame's color was also not uniform. The outermost layer was pale red, like the evening glow; the middle layer was crimson, like burning charcoal; and at its core was a dazzling, golden-red light, almost blinding. Occasionally, a wisp of iridescent light would flash through the flame, like a rainbow refracted by sunlight through a water droplet, brief yet magnificent.

The flames weren't scorching—Chen Duo's sleeves, only a foot away, remained perfectly still; the moss beneath her feet didn't curl or wither. Instead, they possessed a gentle, almost purifying aura. But if you paid close attention, you'd notice the occasional flash of golden-red light at the heart of the flames, radiating a terrifying, almost incinerating power. It was like watching a volcanic eruption through bulletproof glass—you knew it was dangerous, but it wouldn't harm you yet.

This is the innate flame that Chen Duo forged after completely fusing her inherited Phoenix True Fire with the Gu poison technique.

She called it "Phoenix Gu Glazed Fire".