One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

The plane landed on the nearest small island to Nathan Island.

That "airport" was actually just a flattened dirt runway. At the end of the runway was a small hut with a tin roof. In front of the hut stood a flagpole with a faded, unidentified flag hanging from it, swaying weakly in the wind. The sides of the runway were overgrown with waist-high weeds, the blades of grass bending under the airflow from the propellers and then bouncing back, making a "rustling" sound.

Stepping off the plane, everyone was enveloped in a wave of humid, hot air, as if entering a giant steamer. The sun felt scorching on their skin, and the air was filled with the distinctive scent of the tropics, a mixture of earth and sea salt. An unidentified emerald green lizard lay on a rock by the runway, tilting its head and scrutinizing the strangers with its bright black eyes before darting into the grass.

The fishing boat we transferred to was moored at a makeshift dock made of planks and old tires. The boat was small, about ten meters long, its white paint peeling off to reveal the blackened wood beneath. Several strings of dried fish hung from the gunwale, swaying gently in the wind and emitting a salty, fishy smell. An old, small diesel engine sputtered and churned, belching black smoke and making a deafening noise.

We sailed for nearly four hours through the turbulent waves.

The waves weren't large, but they were frequent, one after another, causing the boat to bob up and down constantly. Zhang Chulan sat in the cabin, his face pale, one hand gripping the gunwale tightly, the other covering his mouth, looking like he might vomit at any moment. Lu Linglong, on the other hand, was quite comfortable, sitting at the bow with her feet dangling over the gunwale, humming an unknown tune in the sea breeze, her ponytail fluttering in the wind, like a primary school student on a spring outing. Wang Zhenqiu leaned against the corner of the cabin, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, it was unclear whether he was truly asleep or just resting.

When the island, covered in lush tropical vegetation and shrouded in a thin mist, came into view, it was already close to dusk.

The setting sun painted the sea a golden-red hue, stretching from the bow of the ship to the horizon like a long road paved with broken gold. The seawater parted at the bow, and the spray, illuminated by the slanting sunlight, transformed into countless golden beads, shimmering briefly in the air before shattering. In the distance, flocks of seabirds flew by, their wings silhouetted against the twilight, their cries drowned out by the engine's roar; only their beaks could be seen opening and closing.

The coastline of Nathan Island, shrouded in twilight, appeared and disappeared like a lurking beast, silently awaiting those who would soon enter its territory. The island's tropical vegetation swayed gently in the evening breeze, the palm leaves rustling as if something were whispering secrets. Mist rose from the sea, swirling around the island, making it seem like a surreal, otherworldly place.

"That's Nathan Island?" Zhang Chulan leaned against the ship's railing, squinting as he gazed into the distance. His complexion wasn't great; his lips were pale, but his eyes held an barely suppressed excitement. He shielded his eyes from the setting sun, trying to see more clearly. "It looks pretty normal, nothing special, just like any other tropical island."

"Just outwardly normal." Wang Zhenqiu, who had woken up sometime earlier, poked his head out of the cabin, unusually free of his usual joking demeanor. His hair was ruffled by the sea breeze, a few strands clinging to his forehead, making him look more serious than usual. He glanced at the distant island, narrowing his eyes. "Nathan Island's status as a lawless zone for the supernatural isn't solely due to its geographical location. The island has its own rules, its own order, and outsiders who don't abide by them face severe consequences."

"What rules?" Lu Linglong turned her head, her ponytail swinging in the air in a beautiful arc. Her cheeks were flushed red by the setting sun, and her eyes sparkled like a child about to enter an amusement park.

"First, no fighting is allowed within the market area. No matter how much of a grudge you have outside, you must put your knives away once you enter the market. Anyone who dares to make a move will be taught a lesson by the market's management." Wang Zhenqiu held up one finger, his tone like he was telling a bedtime story, but the content was anything but gentle.

"Secondly, no one is allowed to trespass on other people's territory. Every piece of land on Nathan Island has its owner. You might spend half a day on the island thinking you're strolling in a park, but you may actually have stepped on the territory of some grumpy Outcast. The consequences—" He shrugged and spread his hands, "At best, you'll be expelled; at worst, you'll become fertilizer."

"Third, you are not allowed to attack King Nathan and his guards unless you are prepared to be driven away or even killed." When he said the name "King Nathan," he lowered his voice, as if afraid that something would hear him.

"Sounds like the safe zone in the beginner's village." Zhang Chulan stroked his chin. He had recovered from his seasickness, his complexion was much better, and he began to think habitually again. He ran his fingers along his chin a couple of times, a habitual gesture when he was thinking. "So, which area is the person we're looking for in?"

"The market," Nie Lingfeng said calmly. He stood at the bow of the ship, facing the island, the sea breeze ruffling his clothes. Half of his face was illuminated by the setting sun, the other half hidden in shadow, giving him a half-light, half-shadowed appearance. "According to intelligence, Ruan Feng was last spotted in the market area of ​​Nathan Island. That's the heart of the islanders' lives, and the easiest place for outsiders to meet the locals."

"Then let's go to the market first." Zhang Chulan nodded, a hint of anticipation flashing in his eyes.

That anticipation wasn't ordinary curiosity, but a long-suppressed, pent-up yearning. It was like someone who had walked for a long time in the desert, finally spotting a small black dot on the horizon—it could be an oasis, or it could be a mirage, but he had no other choice. He had to go and see.

The fishing boat rounded a rocky area and slowly sailed into a secluded little harbor.

The water in the reef area was shallow, allowing a clear view of the sandy seabed and corals. Colorful little fish darted beneath the boat; some were as blue as jewels, others as yellow as sunflowers, and still others had black and white stripes, standing out vividly in the clear water. The captain carefully steered the boat, observing the underwater reefs while muttering curses under his breath at those "blind rocks."

Several equally dilapidated fishing boats were moored in the harbor, their hulls painted in different colors—some blue, some green, and some so faded that their original colors were no longer discernible. The boats were connected to each other by thick ropes, swaying gently with the waves and colliding with each other, making a dull "thump-thump" sound.

The shore was lined with dense coconut groves, the trunks of the coconut trees stretching straight towards the sky, their tops covered with clusters of huge leaves like open umbrellas. Coconuts hung beneath the leaves, some still green, others already dark brown. Some ripe coconuts lay on the ground, some already cracked open, revealing white flesh that attracted a swarm of ants.

A winding path leads deep into the island, paved with gravel and sand. On both sides, some unidentified wildflowers grow in the grass, some white, some purple, with small but numerous petals, densely packed together, emitting a faint fragrance in the twilight.

"This is the best I can do for you." The boat captain was a dark-skinned middle-aged man with deep wrinkles on his face, as if they had been carved by a knife. He wore a faded blue vest, and the muscles on his arms were as solid as iron. His hands were covered with calluses and scars, marks left by years of dealing with the waves and ropes.

He spoke in broken Mandarin, each word sounding as if squeezed from the depths of his throat, carrying a salty taste of the sea.

"Keep walking along this road for about half an hour, and you'll see the entrance to the market. Remember, on Nathan Island, observe more and talk less; don't meddle in things that aren't your business, and don't mess with people you shouldn't mess with."

He pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and put it in his mouth without lighting it. His gaze swept over Nie Lingfeng and his group, lingering for a second longer on the faces of the youngest-looking group, as if hesitating whether to say something more.

"Thanks, brother." Zhang Chulan took out a wad of banknotes from his pocket and handed them over. The banknotes were new, with sharp edges, and neatly folded, and had been withdrawn from an ATM at the airport before landing.

The boat captain took the bills, counted them, flicked his fingers on the banknotes twice to confirm they were genuine, and nodded in satisfaction. He stuffed the banknotes into his pocket, patted them, then turned the boat around. The engine roared back to life, chugging along, and the boat slowly left the dock.

They quickly disappeared into the twilight.