One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

The morning after the Azure Frost Sword was forged, the sky was just beginning to lighten, and a thin mist, like gauze, shrouded the ravaged Green Mountain Town.

The Dawn Squad held a combat meeting at their makeshift base in the iron foundry. Calling it a combat meeting was a bit of a stretch; everyone sat around a pile of scrap iron, each holding a bowl of hot porridge Wang Zhenqiu had just cooked, chatting as they ate. The porridge was preserved egg and lean pork porridge; the rice was cooked until soft and mushy, the rich aroma of preserved egg mingling with the savory flavor of lean pork, managing to create a touch of human warmth in this deathly zombie town.

The foundry's workshops were empty and dilapidated, with several holes in the corrugated iron roof. Morning light slanted through these holes, casting dappled shadows on the dusty ground. Piles of rusted gears and discarded iron ingots lay in the corners, and the air was thick with the pungent smell of rust and machine oil. The group sat amidst this industrial ruin, huddled around a large, bubbling iron pot, finding a strange kind of bittersweet humor in their situation.

Zhang Chulan's slurping of porridge was particularly loud. He squatted next to a broken-down stamping machine, brought the bowl to his mouth, and slurped it down with a loud, gurgling sound, like a water pump. This made Wang Zhenqiu glance at him frequently, the veins on his forehead throbbing, wishing he could dump the whole pot on Zhang Chulan's head.

"Could you please keep your voice down when you're eating your porridge?" Wang Zhenqiu finally snapped, his hand trembling as he held the bowl. "It's like you're fighting over food with a pig; your voice echoes throughout the entire factory!"

"That's called enjoying your food!" Zhang Chulan raised his head confidently, a grain of rice still clinging to his lips. "If you don't make noise while eating, it's disrespectful to the food! Don't you understand that? Look at Bao'er, she slurps too, why don't you say anything to her?"

Everyone turned to look at Feng Baobao.

Feng Baobao was holding a bowl, her face almost buried in it, dealing with the porridge with an extremely serious and focused attitude. Strangely, although she was eating heartily, she made almost no sound, like a cat quietly eating.

"She didn't make a sound," Wang Zhenqiu said expressionlessly.

"..." Zhang Chulan turned his head and glanced at her, his lips twitching. "Sister Bao'er, how did you manage that?"

Feng Baobao looked up from the bowl, a ring of rice porridge around her lips, and blinked blankly: "What?"

"Never mind, forget I asked." Zhang Chulan resignedly lowered his head and continued slurping.

"All I know is that if you keep slurping like that," Wang Zhenqiu said through gritted teeth, walking up to him with the bowl in his hand, "I'm afraid I won't be able to resist smashing the bowl over your face."

"You dare!" Zhang Chulan protected his bowl, his tone defiant despite his lack of righteous indignation. "This is porridge you cooked yourself! Don't you feel bad about throwing it in my face?"

I feel sorry for the porridge, but not for you.

"..."

Everyone was used to the two's daily banter and didn't bother to intervene, simply continuing to drink their porridge. Lu Linglong even moved a little further away from them to avoid getting her porridge splashed all over her if they actually started fighting.

Nie Lingfeng sat against the wall, his back against the cold iron wall, holding a bowl of porridge but barely moving it. His eyelids were lowered, and a faint crease appeared between his brows, clearly indicating that his mind was not on eating. Forging the sword last night had exhausted a large amount of his true energy. Although he had recovered most of it after a night of recuperation, there was still a trace of tired bluish tinge in his eyes.

He finished the last mouthful of porridge and gently placed the bowl on the iron ingot beside him. The bottom of the rough earthenware bowl tapped against the iron surface, producing a crisp, light sound.

With just this subtle movement, everyone immediately fell silent.

Zhang Chulan stopped slurping, Wang Zhenqiu dropped his playful expression, Feng Baobao put down her bowl, and Lu Linglong instinctively sat up straight. Even Wang Ye, who had been resting with his eyes closed against a distant iron pillar, opened them.

Everyone is waiting.

This is the weight Nie Lingfeng carries in the Dawn Squad. He doesn't need to give orders, he doesn't need to bang on the table or glare; he only needs to put down his bowl, and everyone knows—the important business has begun.

"I thought about it all night," Nie Lingfeng said bluntly, his voice not loud, but clearly heard by everyone in the empty factory, "about the zombie disposal plan for Qingshan Town."

"Thinking all night?" Zhang Chulan blinked, counting on his fingers. "Brother Nie, you practiced swordsmanship for a whole day and night yesterday, from morning until dawn the next day, and you just finished your porridge... Do you mean you were thinking about things while practicing swordsmanship, or after you finished? Either way, you didn't sleep?"

"Hey Zhang Chulan," Wang Zhenqiu glanced at him sideways, "isn't your focus a bit off?"

"I'm just concerned about Brother Nie's health!"

"I'm used to it." Nie Lingfeng replied with three words, not dwelling on the topic any further, and continued, "The zombies in Qingshan Town are different from the green-eyed zombies in the mountains outside."

His gaze swept over everyone present, his tone turning serious: "They were infected after being affected by the energy of the Green Mountain Iron Mine. I've observed them closely; these red-eyed zombies behave completely differently from those outside. They'll outflank and flank, use the terrain for cover, and even choose to retreat when things are unfavorable. Yesterday at the blacksmith's shop, three zombies, seeing they couldn't beat me, turned and ran—which of the green-eyed zombies outside have you ever seen run away?"

Everyone's expression tightened.

Indeed, all the green-eyed zombies encountered before seemed like wild beasts acting solely on instinct, pouncing on any living person they saw and fighting to the death. But the red-eyed zombies in Green Mountain Town were different; they displayed a kind of primitive intelligence.

"The mutations are biased towards speed and intelligence," Nie Lingfeng continued, "but their strength and defense are weaker. I tested them yesterday; their strength is only about 60 to 70% of that of the green-eyed zombies, and their bone strength is also significantly lower. But in exchange, they are almost half as fast, and they can use simple tactical coordination. More importantly—"

He paused, then emphasized, "Within their bodies, there is both that sinister corpse poison and the special energy of the Green Mountain Iron Mine. The two energies coexist in a strange way, intertwined and mutually restraining each other. It's not a simple fusion, but a dynamic balance, like a taut string that could snap at any moment."

"What does this mean?" Lu Linglong asked curiously.

She held the newly acquired Azure Frost Sword in her hand, and hadn't put it down since, even while eating porridge, she kept the sword across her lap, unable to put it down. At this moment, she subconsciously ran her fingers over the blade, feeling the warm yet chilling touch it gave her, as if she were holding a pool of solidified autumn water.

"This means," Nie Lingfeng said, his gaze falling on the Azure Frost Sword, making a judgment that stunned everyone, "that they might be healed."