One person: Starting with the Snow Drinking Blade

Chapter 388 The People Who Landed on the Island

"Remember, Nathan Island is not like back home. There are no rules, no order, only the survival of the fittest. You will be facing top superhumans from all over the world. They will not show mercy just because you are young, they will not give you face just because you are from the company, and they will not let you go just because you have unfulfilled wishes."

His voice slowed down, each word sounding as if it had been struck with a hammer.

"I don't expect you to achieve any specific results. But there's one thing you must do—"

"Come back alive."

The office was silent for a few seconds.

That kind of quiet wasn't awkward, nor was it a quiet where there was nothing to say; rather, it was a heavy quiet, a quiet where everyone had weighed those four words in their hearts.

"Come back alive"—four simple words, but uttered by Chairman Zhao at this moment, carried more weight than any complex request. Because everyone knew he meant it. He truly didn't ask them to bring back any intelligence, any spoils, or any benefits. He only asked them to live.

Then, Zhang Chulan was the first to break the silence.

He grinned, a smile that was a bit carefree and a bit irritating, but there was a glint in his eyes. He patted his chest, his palm making a crisp "smack" sound as it struck his chest.

"Don't worry, Chairman Zhao! With Brother Nie here, we'll be fine!"

He paused, raised his chin even higher, and that "number one in the world" expression returned to his face.

"Besides, I'm going to be the king of the supernatural world, how can I die on a small island like that!"

"You, the King of the Inhumans?"

Wang Zhenqiu rolled his eyes. The eye roll was perfectly executed, from bottom to top and from the inside out, carrying a mocking "Let's see how long you can keep bragging."

"You'll have to be able to beat Bao'er first before you talk."

"Sister Bao'er is one of us! Can you even call someone one of us count?!"

Zhang Chulan grew anxious, his voice rising eight octaves. He pointed at Feng Baobao, who was engrossed in eating a carrot, oblivious to everything around her.

"Sister Bao'er, say something! We're comrades-in-arms, not enemies, right? I'm not one of a hundred to you, am I?"

Feng Baobao looked up, still with a carrot in her mouth, and said indistinctly, "You run very fast, sometimes I can't keep up. Count me as half."

"Half! Only half!"

Zhang Chulan plopped back down on the sofa, crossed his arms, and turned his face to the side, looking like a wronged little wife.

"Alright, alright, stop joking around."

Chairman Zhao waved his hand. The gesture was like an old man shooing away a flock of chirping sparrows, impatient yet indulgent.

"Go back and get ready. Meet at the airport at 3 PM. The plane will take you to the nearest coastline, and then a boat will pick you up and take you to the island."

Everyone responded and got up to leave.

Zhang Chulan was the first to dart out, as if afraid that Chairman Zhao would change his mind and not take him. Wang Zhenqiu followed leisurely, taking out his phone again, scrolling through something. Zhang Lingyu walked at the very back, her steps unhurried, as if she wasn't in a hurry. Feng Baobao finished eating her carrot, threw the tail into the trash can, and followed after them.

Lu Linglong skipped and hopped along beside Lu Lin, asking as she went, "Brother, do you think there are any pretty seashells on the island? I want to pick up a few to bring back."

"We're going there on a mission, not for tourism."

"Oh, by the way!"

Nie Lingfeng was walking at the back, and just as he was about to leave, Chairman Zhao called him back.

"Xiao Nie, wait a minute."

Nie Lingfeng stopped and turned to look at him. The office door was ajar, and the light from the corridor streamed in, casting a line of light and shadow on his face.

Chairman Zhao walked up to him, taking a slower step than usual as he circled around the desk. He hesitated for a moment, his lips moving as if he were considering how to say it.

Then, he whispered something. His voice was so low that only Nie Lingfeng could hear it.

"On Nathan Island, there is an organization called 'Paradise.' Their leader, codenamed 'King,' is a very dangerous person. If you encounter him... try to avoid a direct confrontation."

Chairman Zhao's brows were slightly furrowed, with a faint vertical line between them—a mark left by years of thought and worry. He lightly rubbed his fingers along the seam of his trousers, a gesture he didn't usually make.

"The King?" Nie Lingfeng raised an eyebrow. "Is he very powerful?"

"That's impressive."

Chairman Zhao's voice lowered even further, almost as if he were whispering.

"Based on the intelligence we have, his strength is probably no less than that of the Old Celestial Master."

Nie Lingfeng remained silent for a few seconds.

He wasn't surprised—his face was expressionless. But his hand—the one hanging by his side—fingers clenched slightly, then relaxed again. As if he had heard something unexpected, something that needed to be reassessed.

Then, he nodded slowly.

"I see."

He turned and walked out of the office.

In the hallway, others were waiting for him.

Zhang Chulan leaned against the wall, one hand in his pocket, the other scrolling through his phone. Wang Zhenqiu stood opposite him, a meter apart, as if engaged in some kind of silent standoff—actually, they were just competing to see who could find a travel guide to Nathan Island first, but neither would admit it.

Lu Linglong was crouching on the windowsill in the corridor, looking at something. Lu Lin stood beside her, one hand protecting her behind her back, afraid she would fall.

Feng Baobao leaned against the wall with her eyes closed, as if she were asleep, but her breathing was shallow, so she didn't seem to be really asleep.

Zhang Lingyu stood at the end of the corridor, her hands tucked into her sleeves, looking at the sky outside the window, lost in thought.

"Brother Nie, what did Chairman Zhao say to you?" Zhang Chulan asked curiously.

"It's nothing," Nie Lingfeng shook his head. His gaze swept across each person's face, as if he were memorizing their features again. "Let's go, get ready to leave."

He strode forward.

The corridor was long, with fluorescent lights lined up overhead, casting alternating light and shadow on him. Behind him, the others followed. Footsteps echoed in the corridor, leather shoes clicking on the floor tiles, like an unconducted orchestra, each playing its own rhythm, yet strangely harmonious.

Sunlight streamed into the corridor through the window, casting a golden glow on the floor. The light pierced through the glass, creating a long, slanted beam, within which tiny dust particles danced, like a swarm of miniature, luminous fireflies.

Nathan Island, the legendary paradise of the supernatural, is about to be hit by an unprecedented storm.

And they are about to step into the eye of this storm.

3 PM, at the airport.

A small passenger plane was already waiting on the runway. The fuselage was white, and the company logo—a red flame—was prominently displayed on the white background. The boarding stairs were already down, and a captain in uniform stood beside them, holding a flight plan board and making final checks.

When Nie Lingfeng and his group arrived, they found several people still on the tarmac.

"A clarinet? Old Meng? Brother Xiao?"

Zhang Chulan was startled, his steps faltering. He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was hallucinating because he hadn't slept well the night before.

"Weren't you in the second batch? What are you doing here?"

He leaned against the cabin door, a cigarette dangling from his lips. The cigarette was thin and long, with gold rings on the filter—clearly a good one. He wore a black leather jacket over a grey T-shirt, a silver necklace peeking out from the collar. His hands were in his pockets, one leg stretched out, the other slightly bent, looking languid like a cat sunbathing.

"Since I'm just killing time anyway, I might as well go and scout it out."

He exhaled a puff of smoke, which slowly dissipated in the air, was blown by the wind into a thin, curved ribbon, and then disappeared.

Xiao Zizai stood to the side, hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his face. He wore a beige trench coat over a dark turtleneck sweater, looking like he'd stepped right out of a magazine cover. But his eyes—those weren't gentle. They were like a chef examining ingredients, or a collector looking at a piece about to be acquired. An excitement lurked deep within his pupils, masked by his smile, but if you looked closely, you could see something flickering there.

"I've heard there are a lot of 'interesting' people on Nathan Island, and I can't wait to go."

His voice was very soft, as if he were talking about something very ordinary. But when Zhang Chulan heard this, a chill ran down his spine, and he unconsciously took half a step closer to Feng Baobao.

Old Meng pushed up his glasses, blinking twice behind the lenses. He was wearing a dark blue work jacket, zipped all the way up, collar turned up, his whole body huddled inside like a penguin afraid of the cold. He carried a bulging military green backpack on his back, its contents unknown.

"I... I just felt that if your advance team encounters any special circumstances, having me behind you can provide timely support..."

His voice grew softer and softer, the last few words almost inaudible. Zhang Chulan noticed that his fingers were repeatedly rubbing against the backpack strap, as if soothing himself.

"Alright, alright, stop explaining."

Wang Zhenqiu waved his hand, walked forward with a grin, and put his arm around Hei Guan'er's shoulder naturally, as if they had known each other for twenty years.

"He just wants to join in the fun, we're all on the same side, those who know, know!"

The clarinet swayed slightly from his embrace, almost dropping his cigarette. He glanced at Wang Zhenqiu, saying nothing, but a barely perceptible smile played at the corners of his lips.

"Alright, stop dawdling and get on the plane."

Nie Lingfeng was the first to walk up the gangway. His steps were neither fast nor slow, each step landing precisely in the middle of the gangway. The steps sank slightly under his feet, then bounced back.

The crowd followed in single file.

Zhang Chulan followed behind Nie Lingfeng, one hand holding the handrail of the gangway, the other clutching his phone, still browsing travel guides for Nathan Island. Wang Zhenqiu walked behind him, craning his neck to look at his phone screen, occasionally commenting, "It seems there's no signal on that island." "You're wasting your time browsing." "..." Zhang Chulan turned off his phone, put it in his pocket, and looked like he'd just eaten a bitter melon.

Zhang Lingyu walked behind Wang Zhenqiu, her steps leisurely and unhurried. Lu Linglong tugged at Lu Lin's sleeve and jogged to keep up, her ponytail swaying behind her. Feng Baobao brought up the rear, crunching away as she munched on a carrot—she'd somehow produced another one.

Old Meng walked ahead of Feng Baobao, glanced back at her, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but seeing Feng Baobao's expressionless face, he swallowed his words.

He was the last to go up the gangway. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray at the gangway entrance, pressing the butt down several times to make sure it was completely extinguished before going inside.

The gangway was retracted and the cabin door was closed.

The plane's engines roared, the sound muffled and muffled, like a giant beast snoring, coming in through the window. The fuselage vibrated slightly, and the ground outside the window began to recede slowly, first slowly, like taking a walk, then faster and faster, until the scenery outside the window began to blur.

Accelerate, taxi, and then—the nose lifts up.

The sky outside the window tilted, the earth receded below, the city became an unfolded map, buildings became building blocks, roads became lines, and vehicles became moving dots.

The plane soared into the blue sky.

The clouds outside the porthole grew closer and thicker, like an endless white cotton field. Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the clouds, casting patches of light and shadow on the earth below.

The city outside the window grew smaller and smaller, farther and farther away, until it finally disappeared beneath the clouds. Those familiar streets, familiar buildings, familiar people—were all obscured by the white sea of ​​clouds.

Ahead lies the boundless Pacific Ocean.

And the mysterious Nathan Island, hidden in the mist.