One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Chapter 418 Chen An Settles Down

Before descending from the watchtower, Ron glanced one last time at the ruins of the palace. The firelight flickered on the lenses of his sunglasses. He clenched his fist and then relaxed it, as if the bitter resentment he hadn't been able to swallow still lingered in his mouth. A moment later, he turned and strode down the steps, the hem of his black military overcoat flapping loudly in the night wind.

Behemoth's men retreated quickly. Within fifteen minutes, the last squad rushed out of the palace gates, stepping over rubble, leaving behind a trail of spent shell casings, molten metal debris, and wounded soldiers who had been abandoned in the twilight, huddled and groaning.

As the surviving Nathan guards watched Behemoth's procession recede into the distance, one by one, they laid down their weapons. The clinking of scimitars falling from their hands onto the stone slabs echoed, followed by the thud of knees hitting the ground. They knelt amidst the ruins, no one spoke, no one cheered, and no one even bothered to look up at the smoking stump of the sacred tree.

The sacred tree is gone. The king is gone. The future of Nathan Island hangs gaping empty, like the bottomless pit before us.

But they are still alive.

Elena sat on the rubble, cradling King Nathan's gradually cooling body in her arms. Her weeping had ceased, save for the occasional sob that escaped her nose. She repeatedly wiped the dust from King Nathan's face with her tattered sleeve, tucking the stray golden hairs behind his ears. Moonlight began to pierce through the clouds, illuminating King Nathan's peaceful, sleeping face, the golden cracks on his features gleaming faintly with a pearly sheen.

Alfonso woke up sometime during the night. Dragging his nearly useless leg, he shuffled over to Elena's side. His golden armor was mostly shattered, revealing a wounded body wrapped in bandages, and dried blood scabs clung to the corner of his mouth. He stared at King Nathan's body in silence for a long time, then slowly placed his still-functioning hand on Elena's shoulder.

Elena didn't look up; she simply leaned her shoulders back.

On the distant hillside, the DC resistance camp was dotted with lights. They had quietly crept into the outskirts of the palace from the foot of the hill, without alerting anyone. The scarred man leading them crouched behind a low wall, squinting at the direction Behemoth had retreated, a slow smile curving his lips—it was a venomous snake.

This is the opportunity he's been waiting for.

As Behemoth's main force retreated to the vicinity of the coastline, Viper's scouts reported back with concrete news: Sean had fallen into their hands. The bald, muscular man with mechanical markings all over his body was ambushed by a Viper squad that had laid an ambush on his flank during the retreat. After being hit by gelatinous bullets that hardened at his joints, his mechanical arm was locked to his back, and he was bound hand and foot and taken to DC's mountain base.

When Gade arrived at the entrance to the DC camp with a squad of personal guards, the moon was already high in the sky. Several dim kerosene lamps were mounted on the camp wall, their light illuminating a three-foot radius around them. Viper sat in the center of the camp, legs crossed, a cup of hot tea beside him, watching with a smile as Gade got out of the jeep.

"Dr. Gade, I've heard so much about you." Viper skimmed the foam off his teacup with the lid, his tone warm as if he were meeting an old friend. "To be honest, I didn't expect to meet you in this kind of setting. Please have a seat."

Gade stood there. His white coat was still stained with wine and dust from when the Ruan Feng wine bottle was smashed, and his goggles were pushed up to his forehead, revealing a pair of narrow, bloodshot eyes. He stared coldly at the viper, his hands clenched in the pockets of his white coat, his knuckles white.

"Enough with the nonsense. The conditions."

The viper slowly took a sip of tea, his eyes scanning Gade's expression above the rim of the cup. He placed the teacup on his knees, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward slightly.

"The conditions are—first, release all the Nathan Guards and islanders you have captured, not one less. Second, hand over a list of all military facilities and equipment belonging to Behemoth on Nathan Island; a physical handover is required, not empty words."

He paused, his gaze becoming even more intrigued.

"Third," his voice softened, his smile widening, "hand over King Nathan to us."

Gade's jaw tightened for a moment, his lips pressed into an almost invisible line. He remained silent for three breaths, then slammed his hand on the folding table in front of him, causing the teacup to jump up and overturn, spilling scalding tea all over the table.

"I can consider the first two conditions! The third is absolutely unacceptable! King Nathan is our primary objective on this mission! If I release her, I won't be able to explain myself when I return!"

The viper glanced down at the tea stains spreading across the table, then calmly pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wiped away the water, his movements as slow as if he were dusting a famous painting.

"Then there's nothing to talk about." He finished wiping the table, folded his handkerchief, put it back in his pocket, stood up, adjusted the collar of his camouflage uniform, turned around, and shouted behind him, "Brothers, bring that bald guy out! Let's take a picture with General Sean of Behemoth!"

"You—" Gade's face contorted with rage, his teeth grinding together in a sharp, grinding sound, "Viper! Don't go too far!"

"Who's being unreasonable?" Viper turned around, his scarred face half-lit by the kerosene lamplight, the smile in his small eyes now cold. "When your Behemoth troops were pressing in, did you consider whether you were being unreasonable? When you were shooting Nathan Island fishermen on the docks, did you consider whether you were being unreasonable? Now you're talking to me about being unreasonable?"

Gade's chest heaved twice, choked by his words. His fingers clenched and unclenched in his pocket, then finally he closed his eyes briefly, exhaled a breath of stale air from his nose, and his voice was like ground powder being ground between his teeth: "...Fine. I promise you. Release them."

The venomous snake's cold expression vanished instantly, replaced by a smile: "That's more like it. Harmony brings wealth."

He waved. The curtain at the back of the camp was lifted, and several DC members escorted Sean out. The bald, burly man had two alloy straps locked to his mechanical arm, his mouth was taped shut, and his face was covered in bruises, clearly indicating that he had suffered greatly during his capture. As he was shoved in front of Gade, he made a low growl, his eyes bloodshot.

Gade didn't look at him, and waved for his personal guards to go up and take the person. At the same time, Viper's men began to carry out several stretchers from the side tent, on which lay the unconscious Nathan Guard, and a slender body covered with a white cloth.

Gade strode over and lifted a corner of the white cloth. King Nathan's face was revealed, the moonlight illuminating her pale face. The golden cracks had all faded into fine, spiderweb-like light lines, like the glaze of a finely broken piece of porcelain. The last slight curve of her lips remained, her expression as serene as if she were truly asleep.

Gade looked for two seconds, then covered the stretcher back with the white sheet. His lips twitched as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't utter a word. He waved his hand, signaling his men to lift the stretcher onto the vehicle.

Viper stood at the camp gate, watching Behemoth's convoy drive into the moonlit mountain road, his smile gradually fading into a straight line. A subordinate behind him leaned forward and whispered, "Chief, are we really just going to give up King Nathan like that?"

The viper was silent for a moment, then whispered, "She's dead."

The subordinate was stunned.

"That body had no pulse, no breath. My men touched her neck when they pulled her from the rubble." Viper's gaze lingered on the departing convoy, a hint of something unspoken in his voice. "Nathan Island doesn't need a dead king as a figurehead. Let them take a corpse in exchange for the living prisoners—it's a good deal."

He buttoned up his open collar, glanced once more at the cold moon in the mid-sky, and turned to walk deeper into the camp.

"Pack your things, we'll begin meetings tomorrow. A new chapter is about to begin on Nathan Island."

The salty smell of the sea breeze was carried by the twilight from the sea, and the waves crashed against the rocks one after another, the spray scattering and gathering again.

As Nie Lingfeng and his group walked along a weed-covered path to a secluded harbor on the north side of Nathan Island, a rented medium-sized fishing boat was quietly moored at the end of the wooden pier. The hull was painted a mottled indigo blue, and there were several old cracks on the deck. A tarpaulin covered the diesel engine at the stern. The captain, squatting on the gunwale with a cigarette dangling from his lips, didn't ask them any questions upon their arrival. He simply flicked the ash into the sea and nodded towards the deck with his chin, gesturing for them to board.

Zhang Chulan stepped onto the swaying gangplank, gripped the mooring rope on the side of the boat with one hand, and looked back at the increasingly blurry island silhouette in the twilight. Suddenly, he stopped. He stood in the middle of the gangplank, turning back to look in the direction of Nathan Island.

"Brother Nie..." He turned his head, his face streaked with white from a mixture of dust and sweat, his voice muffled, "Are we really just leaving like this?"

Nie Lingfeng was folding a wet, thin jacket and stuffing it into his backpack when he heard this, and his hands didn't stop moving: "Hmm."

"The island is still in such a mess. The palace is collapsed, the sacred tree is burned, and King Nathan—" He tightened his throat, swallowed, and continued, "is critically injured and on the verge of death. What will happen to the islanders? What if Behemoth comes back? That DC resistance doesn't look like a good guy either. We're leaving, and they—"

"Chu Lan." Nie Lingfeng straightened up, his gaze falling on Chu Lan's face, calm as still water in a harbor. "What can we do if we stay? Tell me."

Zhang Chulan opened his mouth.

"Behemoth's main force is a regular army unit. We took ten minutes to defeat a single platoon of SP receivers, while they have over three hundred combat personnel on the island. Even if the six of us, plus Baron and Senior Ruan Feng, all stayed behind to fight to the death, what could we change?" Nie Lingfeng's voice was not loud, but each word was as clear as a hammer blow on an anvil. "Nathan Island's survival has never relied on outside help. It relied on King Nathan, the Nine Guards, and the Divine Tree. Now all three have fallen—outsiders can't get involved. Only the remaining people on the island can rebuild this island."

Zhang Chulan clenched his fist and then relaxed it. He kept his head down and remained silent for seven or eight steps, the sea breeze blowing his hair into a mess and sticking it to his forehead.

"...I know you're right." His voice softened, carrying a rare hint of unease. "It's just that I feel uneasy. I feel like there's something I should have done but haven't finished."

Nie Lingfeng walked over and stopped at an arm's length distance. He didn't pat Zhang Chulan on the shoulder or say any more profound words. He simply raised his hand and brushed a strand of hair that had been ruffled by the sea breeze from Zhang Chulan's forehead to the side before withdrawing his hand.

"I'll come back and visit again sometime."

Zhang Chulan sniffed hard, then forced a smile: "Okay. It's a deal then."

Nie Lingfeng gave a very faint smile, then turned and stepped onto the deck.

The others boarded the ship one after another. Wang Zhenqiu, the last to jump onto the deck, glanced back at the still-smoking island tip in the distance, shook his head, and muttered to himself, "This trip's certainly going to be lively," before leaping to the hatch and crouching down. Feng Baobao sat on the stern railing, clutching her katana, staring blankly at the shimmering sea. Lu Linglong and Lu Lin leaned against the deck railing side by side, neither speaking, each lost in their own thoughts as they watched the island recede into the distance. Zhang Lingyu leaned against the cabin wall, eyes closed, her lips moving slightly as if silently reciting some kind of calming incantation. Baron sat at the bow, slowly oiling the blade, wrapping the cloth around it layer by layer.

Ruan Feng sat at the highest point of the ship's railing, a new bottle of Erguotou dangling from his lips, his legs dangling in the air. He watched the silhouette of Nathan Island gradually sink below the horizon, then tilted his head back and took a large gulp of liquor, turning the bottle upside down to let the last drop fall into his mouth before casually tossing the empty bottle into the sea. The bottle tumbled in the waves, drifted for a few seconds, and was then carried away by the undercurrent.

"This place," he clicked his tongue, his voice hoarse with the static of an old gramophone, "I was only in my early thirties when I last came here. Decades have passed in the blink of an eye."

Baron looked up at him but didn't reply.

The sputtering of the fishing boat's diesel engine echoed in the twilight, the hull trembled slightly, and it began to slowly move away from the shore. The bow cleaved through the deep blue water, and the white wake behind the boat spread out in an ever-widening fan shape, like a wound that would never heal on the coastline of Nathan Island.

Zhang Chulan stood by the railing at the very edge of the stern, his elbows resting on the railing, his forehead against the backs of his clasped hands. He watched the island shrink smaller and smaller—first the ruins and spire of the royal palace were swallowed by the horizon, then the outline of the mountain range on the island's ridge became shorter and fainter, and finally the entire island turned into a blurry gray shadow floating where the sea and sky met, like the last footprint on the beach after the tide has receded.

The sea breeze made his eyes sting. He didn't raise his hand to rub them.

"Goodbye, Nathan Island." Lu Linglong's whisper came from beside her, but most of it was swept away by the sea breeze, leaving only fragmented syllables.

Zhang Chulan didn't turn around, but nodded slightly.

The others also bid farewell in their hearts. For the brilliance of Alfonso's sword. For the shattering sound of Elena's cries. For King Nathan's final words, "Finally free," and the golden light dissipating in the last warmth of her fingertips. For the fallen tree, and the layers upon layers of thousand-year-old bones at its feet.

The small boat continued forward. The diesel engine churned rhythmically, like a tireless heart beating on the sea. The bow cleaved through wave after wave, and the night closed in from all directions, completely enveloping the last silhouette of Nathan Island in darkness.

The salty smell of the sea breeze grew stronger, and the moonlight dyed the backs of the waves into flowing silver scales. A new course was drawn on the nautical chart, connecting to a distant shore they had yet to reach.

Zhang Chulan straightened up and straightened his wind-blown collar. He glanced sideways at Nie Lingfeng in the hatchway, who was organizing the map and notes he had copied from Ruan Feng by the dim light of a kerosene lamp. The lamplight cast a quiet shadow on Nie Lingfeng's lowered brow. Wang Zhenqiu had already put his three-section staff into a short stick and was dozing off on his knees, his breathing gradually becoming long and even. Feng Baobao was still sitting on the side of the ship, holding her knife, her eyelids half-closed, as if resting or keeping watch.

The night was very quiet. The only sounds were the sputtering of the engine, the splashing of water against the wooden planks under the boat, and the occasional soft sound of a wave breaking.

Zhang Chulan exhaled a long breath of white air.

A new journey. He said to himself.

Let's go.

He turned away from the island that had disappeared into the darkness and walked step by step back to the hatch. Before bending down to crawl inside, he glanced one last time at the sea behind the stern. Moonlight shone on the silvery wake left by the stern, and beneath the surface, the deep blue water churned with timeless undercurrents.

Nathan Island is already out of sight.

But it came. They all came.

The sea kept spreading forward. The ship kept sailing forward.

This is enough.