One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Chapter 150 The Only Variable

Zhuge Qing sat beside him, holding an ancient book in his hand, reading it by the moonlight. The pages were yellowed, the edges were curled up, and the writing was somewhat blurry, but he read it very carefully, drawing something on his knee with his finger as he read.

"The Twenty-Four Solar Terms Valley was originally a trial ground left behind by ancient powerful beings," he said without looking up. "If it were that easy, no one would have been able to reach its depths for hundreds of years."

"You're quite easygoing," Wang Ye rolled his eyes.

"Whether you can accept it or not, you have to go." Zhuge Qing turned a page. "Instead of worrying, we should think of a solution."

Zhang Lingyu sat cross-legged not far away, meditating. His Taoist robe was spotless, but there was a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. In the battle just now, he had single-handedly blocked the attacks of three men in black, saving Baron's life, but he had also suffered some internal injuries himself.

"The methods used by those who attacked us just now were very strange," he said slowly, his eyes still closed. "They didn't seem to follow the methods of the Central Plains, nor did they seem to be from the Quanxing sect."

"It's definitely not Quanxing." Baron's voice came from the shadows. He crouched behind a rock, a dagger in his hand, warily scanning his surroundings. Moonlight shone on his face, illuminating the wrinkles around his eyes and his gray stubble, but his eyes were still sharp. "Those Quanxing lunatics wouldn't fight with such discipline. Those people are well-trained and work together seamlessly, like an army."

Xia Liuqing sat next to him, smoking a pipe. The smoke blurred his face, and only his cloudy old eyes could be seen, flickering in the smoke.

"Who cares what kind of people they are?" He exhaled a smoke ring, his tone indifferent. "If they come, we fight. If we can't beat them, we run. If we can't outrun them, we die. It's no big deal."

Zhang Chulan smiled wryly.

He really couldn't learn Old Master Xia's mindset. But then again, having lived to such an old age, what kind of situation hadn't he seen? He had long since become indifferent to life and death.

"The problem now is, we're trapped here." Zhang Chulan pointed around. Under the moonlight, all they could see were jagged rocks and deep cracks, making it impossible to tell which way was which. "After that attack, the way we came in was blocked, and we can't find the way out. This godforsaken place doesn't even have any landmarks; we're just going around in circles."

"We're not just going around in circles." Wang Ye shook his head and held up the compass for them to see. "The compass shows that we're moving. But the trajectory of our movement... is very strange."

He pointed to the wildly spinning pointer on the compass: "See? The pointer isn't spinning randomly; it follows a pattern. It moves along a fixed path—three times clockwise, then two times counter-clockwise, pauses for a second, and then continues. What does that mean?"

No one answered.

"This means that the space we're in is itself in motion." Wang Ye put away the compass, his expression grave. "We're in a huge, three-dimensional maze, and this maze is constantly changing. It's like... like a trap designed by someone."

"Then what should we do?" Zhang Chulan asked.

"Wait," Wang said.

"wait?"

"Waiting for a variable," Wang Ye said, gazing into the darkness. "Or waiting for someone."

"Who?"

"Nie Lingfeng".

The words had barely left his mouth—

Suddenly, a clear and melodious cry rang out from afar.

The sound pierced the darkness, penetrated the rocks, and passed through all obstacles, reaching clearly into everyone's ears. It was like birdsong, but not ordinary birdsong—the sound carried an ancient power that made one's heart tremble.

Immediately following was another roar.

The roar was deep and powerful, like the fury of an ancient beast, shaking the entire valley. In the moonlight, one could see pebbles falling softly from the distant mountain walls.

Everyone's expression changed, and they all stood up at the same time.

In the distance, golden light shot into the sky from the valley! The golden light was like a giant pillar, piercing the clouds and illuminating half the sky. Within the golden light, a huge phantom could be vaguely seen—it was a Qilin, its body engulfed in golden-red flames, roaring towards the sky.

Beside the phantom of the Qilin, another light shone.

It was a soft yet resilient emerald light, like willow catkins in the spring breeze, like ripples on a lake. Within the light, a phantom of a phoenix spread its wings and stood side by side with a qilin.

"That's..." Zhang Chulan's eyes widened.

"Nie Lingfeng." Wang Ye smiled, a relieved smile on his face. "And Chen Duo. They've arrived."

"You've come at just the right time." Zhuge Qing closed the book, a smile flashing in his eyes.

"Let's go and meet them." Zhang Lingyu stood up.

The group quickly headed towards the direction of the golden light.

Behind them, in the deepest shadows of the valley, a pair of eyes slowly opened.

The eyes were large, taking up a third of the face. There were no whites, only jet-black pupils, reflecting the shimmering golden light in the distance.

"Qilin, Phoenix..."

A hoarse voice rose from the darkness. The voice was indistinguishable in gender and age, like countless voices overlapping, buzzing and echoing with a metallic resonance.

"The keys... are almost all here."

Close your eyes.

The shadows dissipated.

The moonlight shone on that area again, revealing only jagged rocks and the occasional, unidentified insects peeking out from the crevices.

The crevice was so narrow that only one person could pass through sideways.

Nie Lingfeng walked at the front, his shoulders brushing against the cool stone walls on either side. He could feel an eerie temperature on the rock surface—not cold, not hot, but a chilling, "alive" sensation, like touching the skin of some enormous creature. The stone walls had fine patterns that glowed with a faint, eerie blue light in the darkness. These patterns seemed to flow slowly, like blood in veins, or like some ancient script.

Chen Duo followed closely behind him, her breathing very soft, but Nie Lingfeng could sense her nervousness. Her hand had somehow gripped the hem of his shirt, clenching it tightly.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered.

"Mmm," Chen Duo responded, but didn't let go of her hand.

The crevice was very long. So long that Nie Lingfeng began to doubt whether this path had any end. The stone walls on both sides grew narrower and narrower; at the narrowest point, he almost had to turn sideways and tuck in his stomach to squeeze through. There was no sky above, only eternal darkness. The path beneath his feet rose and fell, sometimes a steep uphill slope, sometimes steps downhill, and sometimes... it was suspended in mid-air, requiring him to jump over it.

Zhang Chulan muttered from behind, "This place is a weight-loss paradise. Fat people who come in will get stuck instantly."

"You still have the nerve to joke around?" Wang Ye's voice came from further behind, panting heavily. "I'm about to be crushed into a photograph."

"Don't make a sound," Zhang Lingyu said calmly. "We're almost there."

As soon as he finished speaking, a glimmer of light suddenly appeared ahead.

The light was faint, like the glow of a firefly's tail, but in the absolute darkness, it was blindingly bright. Nie Lingfeng squinted, quickened his pace, and walked towards the light. The others behind him followed, their footsteps echoing in the narrow crevice, like a group of moles hurrying along.

The light grew brighter and brighter, from a single point to a patch, and from a patch to an exit.

The moment Nie Lingfeng stepped out of the crevice, he froze.

The sky is no longer the sky.

It was a chaotic, ever-flowing ocean of color. It was as if someone had poured all the world's pigments into a giant container, then stirred them with a stick, mixing them together, yet not completely mixing them. Deep purple, dark blue, crimson, emerald green, earthy yellow—these colors intertwined, collided, and merged, forming a bizarre scene indescribable. They were slowly rotating, like a giant eye slowly turning its pupils, radiating an unsettling, almost life-like pulse.

There is no sun, no moon, no stars.

Only the distorted light, and the occasional golden cracks that flashed like lightning within it.

Nie Lingfeng looked down at the ground, even more bewildered.

His left foot trod on hard, moss-covered granite. His right foot trod on soft, sinking black swamp. One step forward, and there lay the scorching, steaming yellow desert. One step to the left, and there lay the cold, snow-covered white snowfield.

Moreover, these terrains are not static.

They are moving.

The granite slowly moved to the left, its edges scraping against the swamp, making a "gurgling" sound. The swamp writhed to the right, occasionally a few bubbles rising from the black mud, bursting and spewing out pungent marsh gas. The desert advanced, sand flowing like water, submerging what was once a snowfield. The snowfield was covered by sand, hissing and steaming with white vapor.

The entire ground, like the stomach wall of some giant creature, was slowly writhing and digesting something.

Nie Lingfeng took a deep breath. The air was filled with a mixture of hundreds of smells—the saltiness of the sea, the heat of the desert, the cold of the snowfield, the stench of the swamp, and… the fragrance of flowers. He followed the scent and saw, in the center of the desert not far away, a dilapidated ancient palace standing abruptly.

The palace was in the typical Tang style, with dougong brackets, flying eaves, red walls, and green tiles, but the walls were covered with moss and the tiles were overgrown with weeds. The palace gate was half open, and dim light shone through the crack, revealing shadowy figures and faint voices.

Next to the palace, a rusty Tiger tank lies half-buried.

That was German equipment from World War II. The cannon barrel was pointing to the sky, the tracks were broken in two, and the body was riddled with bullet holes, from which tiny wildflowers grew. The tank hatch was open, and inside sat a skeleton dressed in a German military uniform. The skull was tilted, and there was a pair of eyeballs in its sockets—living eyeballs, blinking.

Next to the tank is the cross-section of a modern high-rise building.

The cross-section was as clean as if it had been sliced ​​by a giant with a knife, diagonally cut off at the thirtieth floor. From the cross-section, one could see the interior—the sofa, coffee table, and television in the living room; the bed, wardrobe, and lamp in the bedroom; the stove, sink, and range hood in the kitchen. Even clothes were hanging on the balcony, swaying in the breeze, as if the owner had simply gone out to buy groceries and would be back soon.

But all of this has been cut open, like a cross-section of a dollhouse, and shown to everyone.

Time, space, civilization, life and death...

Complete chaos here.

Like a pot of burnt soup made from fragments of countless worlds.

"This place..." Nie Lingfeng frowned. He closed his eyes, sensing the "Qi" between heaven and earth. In a normal world, Qi flows, is orderly, and circulates like a river. But the Qi here is chaotic and violent, like a pot of boiling water full of impurities. Qi of various attributes are intertwined, devouring and repelling each other, forming countless tiny whirlpools and turbulent currents.

Deeper still, there is a vast, ancient, and chilling will.

That will was breathing slowly, like a sleeping ancient beast. With each breath, the entire space trembled slightly, and the disordered scenery distorted, like reflections in water being broken by pebbles.

"Welcome to the depths of the Twenty-Four Solar Terms Valley."

Wang Ye's voice came from behind, carrying a sense of helplessness, as if to say, "I knew this would happen."

He emerged from the crack, dusted himself off, looked at the scene before him, and spread his hands with a wry smile: "Or, as I would say—'The Maze of Obsession'."

"The Maze of Obsession?" Chen Duo peeked out from behind him, her emerald eyes curiously surveying everything around her. Her eyes gleamed faintly in the dim light, like two fine jades.

"Yes." Wang Ye nodded, pointing to the distorted scenery. "These are not real. Or rather, they are not entirely 'real objects'."

He walked to the ruins of the palace and reached out to touch the half-open door. The moment his fingers touched the door, it shook violently, like a reflection in water ruffled by the wind. He withdrew his hand, and the door returned to its original state.

"See that?" He turned to look at the crowd. "These are the people who entered the Twenty-Four Solar Terms Valley throughout history and ultimately died here. Their strongest 'obsessions' before death have become the manifestation of their will. Their longing for their homeland has become palace ruins. Their fear of war has become tank wreckage. Their attachment to home has become the cross-sections of skyscrapers..."

He paused, then pointed to the skeleton inside the tank: "That German soldier, I don't know how he got here, but his last thought before he died must have been about his family. Look at his eyes—those aren't living eyes, they're 'eyes' conjured from his obsession, waiting for someone he'll never see."

The skull's eyes were still blinking, staring blankly ahead, its gaze filled with expectation and a hint of despair.

Chen Duo looked at the skeleton, remained silent for a moment, and then said softly, "He can't wait any longer."