One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

The loudspeaker outside the warehouse hissed and crackled, interspersed with increasingly urgent countdown warnings. The voice had lost its initial formulaic politeness, replaced by an unyielding and forceful tone: "Listen up, you inside! You have thirty seconds! After thirty seconds, we will take coercive measures!"

"Coercive measures?" Zhang Chulan tilted his head and scoffed, "It's not like they're not forcing us right now. Those dozens of gun barrels outside are practically poking our faces, and they're still playing countdown games with us?"

"Stop joking around." Wang Zhenqiu slapped him on the back of the head, then pulled out a short metal rod from his palm, twirling it nimbly between his fingers. "Get ready to get to work."

Nie Lingfeng had already darted to the warehouse door, his back pressed against the cold metal, only one eye peeking out. A full platoon of Behemoth soldiers stood in the open space, fully equipped, their guns all pointed towards the warehouse door. Behind the platoon was even a vehicle-mounted heavy machine gun, its ammunition belt hanging down like a heavy iron snake. At the very front, seven or eight exceptionally burly figures stood out. They were more than half a head taller than ordinary soldiers, their broad shoulders almost bursting through their tactical vests. Dark silver mechanical patterns adorned their bare forearms, and purplish-blue veins bulged beneath their skin, resembling the marks left by long-term drug injections. Their eyes were lifeless, their pupils like two dead gray pebbles, unfocused yet fixed on the warehouse.

"Are those the cyborgs?" Lu Linglong leaned close to Nie Lingfeng and asked in a low voice.

"Hmm." Baron nodded, his expression darkening. "Behemoth's SP receptors are enhanced humans through a combination of banned drugs and mechanical exoskeletons. Pain receptors are severed, the adrenaline system is constantly overloaded, tireless, and fearless. The key is—they can be mass-produced."

"Mass production..." Daoist Wang Ye rubbed his temples, half headache and half worry. "This is troublesome. One or two can be handled, but if hundreds or thousands are made, the rules of the entire supernatural world will have to be rewritten."

"So we have to beat them hard today." Barron slowly moved his wrist, his knuckles cracking, "so hard that they won't dare to throw money down this road again."

Zhang Chulan clenched his fist, with faint blue-white arcs of electricity crackling between his fingers: "Then we can't let them succeed."

The ultimatum blared from the loudspeaker: "Time's up! Get ready—"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Zhang Chulan suddenly shouted at the top of his lungs, jumping out of the warehouse door, raising his hands high above his head, and plastering an innocent smile on his face. "We surrender! We surrender!"

The Behemoth soldiers paused, their guns lowered slightly, and they exchanged bewildered glances, clearly not expecting such a decisive move. The leading officer frowned, his lips moving as if about to speak, when Zhang Chulan added, "But we have a small condition!"

"Conditions?" the officer sneered, his fingertip already on the trigger guard. "Prisoners have no right to negotiate."

"You can't say that. Everything can be discussed." Zhang Chulan chuckled and took half a step forward, his foot already subtly gathering strength. "Look at all these of us. If we really fought, you'd definitely lose a few brothers, right? How about this—you'd be merciful and let us go, and we promise not to fight you, okay?"

The officer stared at him for three seconds, his gaze as cold as ice, then slowly raised his right hand and uttered two words crisply: "Fire."

"Holy crap! Negotiations have broken down!"

Zhang Chulan let out a strange cry and lunged to the side. In the same instant, dozens of gun barrels spat fire, and bullets rained down like a storm, shattering the ground where he had just stood, sending pebbles flying and cement debris flying half a person's height. The warehouse's iron door was also swept away, sparks flying everywhere, and the entire sheet metal was instantly covered with a dense array of bullet holes.

"Thunder Magic - Swift Thunder!"

A burst of blue-white lightning suddenly erupted from Zhang Chulan's body, crackling through his limbs and bones. His figure traced a zigzagging trail of lightning amidst the hail of bullets, moving so fast that only a blur remained. Bullets plowed the ground behind his heels, tearing white gashes in the air, but always just a fraction of a second too late to catch him.

"Let's do it!"

Nie Lingfeng let out a low shout and leaped out of the warehouse. His toes touched the ground silently, yet his movements were as swift as a gust of wind gliding along the ground. He charged straight at the front row of cyborgs, his left hand's five fingers pressed together like a knife, striking the nearest man in the ribs. The force of the palm penetrated his body, causing a dent in the cyborg's tactical vest. He flew through the air like a puppet with its strings cut, crashing into three soldiers behind him, the muffled thuds of bones shattering clearly audible.

Chen Duo followed closely behind, her hands emerging from her wide sleeves, her fingers moving rapidly. Dozens of brightly colored Gu worms surged forth from her sleeves like a flood, buzzing and fluttering their wings, transforming into a cloud of insects that swarmed towards the soldiers' lines. These insects were extremely small, smaller than grains of rice, and the moment they landed on exposed skin, they burrowed deep beneath it. The stung soldiers dropped their weapons, screamed, and collapsed to the ground, frantically tearing at their collars and necks, their skin bulging with strange red lines, as if some living thing was wriggling within their veins.

Wang Zhenqiu's metal baton clattered open into a three-section staff, its shaft humming and vibrating. With a flick of his wrist, the staff swept out like a python from its lair, striking the knees of two soldiers on the flank. Two sharp cracks rang out as the knees of the two men snapped backward, their bodies falling in bizarre positions, their guns flying far from their hands. Zhang Lingyu formed hand seals, her fingertips condensing frost into several ice spikes. With a flick of her wrist, three ice spikes, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound, pierced the shoulder and ribs of the machine gunner behind her. The man groaned and tumbled off the vehicle. Lu Linglong drew her twin swords, their blades flashing like crescent moons through the crowd, each strike precisely severing gun barrels or dislodging magazines. Lu Lin, standing beside her, unfolded a folding fan, a flick of the fan unleashing a blade of air that forced back enemies attempting to flank her.

Baron remained half a step in front of Nguyen Phuong. He did not take the initiative to attack, but simply hunched his back and lowered his center of gravity, his eyes scanning back and forth like a hawk. Whenever a stray bullet was shot toward Nguyen Phuong, he would flick his wrist with lightning speed, and a short blade that appeared out of nowhere would accurately deflect the bullet, sparks flying as the blade remained perfectly sharp.

Ruan Feng remained leaning against the warehouse doorframe, holding a bottle of Erguotou that was already half-empty, squinting as he watched the young men charge into battle, occasionally taking a sip and smacking his lips, as if he were watching a spectacular performance.

"Senior, are you really not going to make a move?" Baron asked, turning his head to the side, the tip of his blade twirling between his fingers.

"What's the rush?" Ruan Feng took another swig of wine, a few drops of clear liquid sliding down his stubble. "Let the young people stretch their muscles. This old monk needs to save his strength to serve the rest of us."

His gaze swept across the battlefield, past the fallen Behemoth soldiers, and landed on the distant, faintly visible silhouette of the palace. The palace's spires drew sharp arcs in the twilight, the eaves gilded with a dark gold by the setting sun.

That's where the real chessboard is.

The battle did not last long.

Nie Lingfeng and his group were far stronger than these ordinary soldiers and low-level cyborgs. In less than ten minutes, a full-strength Behemoth combat unit had been completely defeated, lying sprawled on the ground. Some were clutching their severed arms and howling in pain, some were foaming at the mouth and unconscious after being devoured by Gu worms, and several were pinned to the ground by Zhang Lingyu's ice spikes and could not move. As they struggled, their blood stained the ice surface pink.

Zhang Chulan stopped, the crackling arcs of electricity around him gradually subsiding. He patted the dust off his sleeves, glanced back at the spoils scattered on the ground, and curled his lip: "That's it? All bark and no bite. I thought Behemoth's elite troops were quite formidable, but they're nothing special after all."

"Don't be careless." Nie Lingfeng wiped a drop of blood from his cheek with his thumb, his gaze fixed on the distant palace. "This is just the advance team. The real elite are not here."

He paused, his voice deepening slightly: "If I'm not mistaken, Behemoth's main force should have already bypassed us and gone directly to attack the palace."

"The royal palace?" Lu Linglong sheathed her twin swords, catching her breath. "Why are they attacking the royal palace? Does King Nathan have a grudge against them?"

"King Nathan is the supreme ruler of this island. Controlling King Nathan is equivalent to controlling the entire network of supernatural beings on Nathan Island." Daoist Wang Ye took out a handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Behemoth's target was never us small fry from the beginning. They wanted the entire island."

"So what do we do now?" Zhang Chulan asked. "Retreat?"

"Go to the palace." Nie Lingfeng's tone was calm, but his eyes revealed an unusual sharpness.

"Go to the palace?" Zhang Chulan was taken aback. "What are we after? To fight for King Nathan? We have no relation to him whatsoever."

"Let's go see what Behemoth is up to," Nie Lingfeng said. "If we don't see things clearly, we'll always be on the defensive."

He turned to Ruan Feng: "Senior, would you like to join us?"

Ruan Feng screwed the cap back on the Erguotou bottle, tucked it into his pocket, slowly straightened up, and patted the dust off his backside: "This humble monk originally didn't want to get involved in these messy affairs. However... since you're going, this humble monk will accompany you. Coincidentally, this humble monk also has a few things he'd like to confirm."

He strolled over to Zhang Chulan, raised his hand and patted the boy's shoulder lightly twice, with the casualness and kindness of an elder: "Kid, that lightning strike technique you used just now was pretty good, it had about seven or eight tenths of what your grandfather was like back in the day."

Zhang Chulan was taken aback, then his eyes lit up: "Senior...do you know my grandfather?"

"Know him?" Ruan Feng grinned, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling to reveal a set of white teeth stained slightly yellow with wine. "Know him more than just know him. This humble monk and your grandfather Zhang Huaiyi have a life-or-death friendship."

Zhang Chulan's heart skipped a beat, a surge of heat rising in his chest. Just as he was about to press for an answer, Ruan Feng waved his hand, saying, "Let's talk as we walk. We still have a long way to go."

After quickly cleaning up the mess, the group headed towards the palace, stepping over the scattered debris.

The mountain path narrowed as they walked, the broad-leaved forests on both sides closing in on them, vines hanging down like green curtains. Dusk deepened, and the light, fragmented into dappled patches of gold, shone on the damp earth. In the distance, towards the palace, faint firelight flickered in the sky, and the air carried the scent of burning.