SES Chapter 218 Part 1

Chapter 218

Phoenix, Huang, Luan clasps—seven malevolent slips.

For so long, they had spoken of these things as naturally as speaking of food and clothing. And now, all of a sudden, they lay openly before their eyes.

Mu Dai picked up a tissue and carefully wiped the dirt and sand from each object, placing them one by one on the cloth she had spread out. The bounty hunter detector kept chiming nonstop. Cao Yanhua frowned and said, “Why don’t we turn that thing off? This stuff is way too sensitive. We’ve already dug it up, and it’s still beeping like crazy.”

A thought seemed to flash through Luo Ren’s mind. “Move these farther away.”

Wan San reacted immediately. “There’s more underneath?”

He quickly grabbed both ends of the cloth and ran off with it. Sure enough, when the detector was aimed at the pit, the alert grew even louder.

Luo Ren picked up the entrenching tool. “We need to keep digging.”

They hadn’t dug for long—barely two shovels—when pale human finger bones emerged from beneath the loose sand.

Yan Hongsha sucked in a sharp breath. “Whose is this now?”

Luo Ren set the shovel aside, took a pair of protective gloves from his pack, and put them on. With careful motions, he brushed away the sand crumbling from the sides of the pit.

Once it was clear, they saw it wasn’t just one hand, but the finger bones of two hands, raised forward, the palms brought together, as though originally gripping something.

Following the direction of the fingers, they cleared away more soil and soon uncovered arm bones as well.

Luo Ren stepped back a couple of paces and pointed. “There should be a body below. I don’t know whose it is, but it looks like he was sitting. We’ll need to widen the pit.”

For some reason, Mu Dai’s heart began to race. She pointed at the hands. “If the malevolent slips were originally sealed like a rolled book, then the way his hands are positioned—it looks like he was holding them.”

Could this person have been one of the five who sealed the slips in the previous cycle?

And taking it one step further, could this be the founding ancestor of her sect, Plum Blossom One Zhao?

Luo Ren seemed to have thought of the same thing. As he and Cao Yanhua took turns digging, they used the shovel less and less, mostly working with their hands. After about half an hour, the full scene finally emerged.

It was a man sitting upright. His clothes had not completely decayed. His hands were clasped in front of him, and at his chest was a dagger with a gold beast-mouth hilt embedded in it.

No wonder the bounty hunter detector wouldn’t stop—it was reacting to the dagger.

They pulled it out to examine it. Along the base of the blade was a line of engraved characters:

—Snowfall, plum wine, one jug.

Luo Ren pondered for a moment. “When this man died, he was probably gripping the seven malevolent slips, sealed with the clasps. That literate dog guard who dug the pit probably hadn’t reached the body yet. He just suddenly saw the rolled slips sealed by the phoenix–luan clasps and pulled them out.”

Anyone else might not have been able to open them. But that literate dog was a natural key to the phoenix–luan clasps.

The seven malevolent slips latched onto him at once—seven strands of ferocious resentment desperate to feed on vital energy. The dog became their host, helping them recover. All the planned arrangements—joint burial, carving a tombstone—came to an abrupt halt. Perhaps his consciousness even grew muddled. The pit was hastily filled in, and the half-carved tombstone was overturned.

Cao Yanhua asked in confusion, “Then who buried this dead guy?”

No one answered. In the silence, there came another tap-tap-tap sound.

Everyone turned at once.

It was Cao Jiefang, who couldn’t keep still, pecking relentlessly at the cleaned phoenix–luan clasps. Yan Hongsha hurried over and picked him up, moving him aside. Wan San picked up two wooden slips and toyed with them. “Ancient bamboo or wooden texts were usually strung together with cords. These slips don’t even have holes. No idea how they connect…”

He squinted and aligned the two slips side by side. Suddenly, his vision swam, and it seemed as though black, claw-like tendrils extended from the edges of the slips. With a click, they snapped together.

Wan San jolted in fright, nearly dropping them. Luo Ren said, “Try connecting all of them.”

Since all the slips were identical, there was no particular order. When all seven were joined, they spread out like a fully opened woodblock print. Wan San rolled them inward from one end into a tube. Mu Dai picked up a phoenix clasp, pried it open, and said, “Let’s put it on.”

This must have been what it looked like when the phoenix–luan clasps sealed the seven malevolent slips: three golden clasps, shaped like coiling dragons, winding tightly around the rolled body. As the heads and claws locked into place, golden light appeared on the wooden slips.

The light slowly spread, flowing through the surrounding air. Faintly, graceful silhouettes of phoenixes and luan birds seemed to unfurl, quickly enveloping everyone. Only Cao Jiefang, baffled by the sudden radiance, scuttled farther and farther away.

The surroundings suddenly darkened. Moments later, they brightened again, just like before—entering a watery illusion.

A marketplace. Taverns. Crowds of people coming and going. A vendor pushed a cart piled with wine jars, wobbling to a stop at a doorway.

The air was dry and noisy—shouts, curses, hawking cries. Inside the tavern, it was peak bustle. A waiter swung his towel over his shoulder and shouted long and loud, “Coming right up!”

Topknots, head wraps, cross-collared robes, straight-cut garments—some wore square “cabinet” hats. Mostly the Ming dynasty, certainly before the Qing.

Mu Dai stood in a second-floor corridor, lost and unsure. A waiter approached carrying a steaming clay pot. She instinctively tried to dodge, but it was too late—the smiling waiter passed straight through her body.

She understood. Just like in the watery illusion, no one here could see her.

She looked around and spotted Luo Ren at the far end of the corridor, waving to her. She hurried over.

It was a private room with the door half open. A waiter was just stepping out after serving dishes. Seizing the moment, Luo Ren pulled Mu Dai inside.

Inside was a large banquet table laden with food—tiger-skin meat, jade-green fish soup, Huizhou hairy tofu, flower pearls, pan-fried chicken, and huge wine jars with shallow bowls. Five people sat around the table. A tall, imposing man held up a wine jar, pouring into a row of bowls. At his waist hung a dagger with a gold beast-mouth hilt.

A sickly-looking man stood up, carefully bolted the door, and tested it with his hand. Wan San leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, pulling exaggerated faces at him.

Cao Yanhua sniffed the food and reached for a chicken leg, but each time his fingers grasped only an illusion. Yan Hongsha pressed her lips together, stifling a laugh.

The sickly man returned to his seat and said, “I’ve made arrangements with Brother Yin. He told us not to worry—he’ll live near the Bagua Observatory from now on. The items we leave behind will be kept safe, and our instructions will be followed. If he dies, his son will continue. If the son dies, the grandson. Even if the line ends, he’ll find someone reliable to carry it on.”

A young woman in fitted martial attire laughed softly. “We saved his life from bandits and only asked him to do this one thing. Of course, he’ll honor it.”

The man pouring wine hummed in agreement. “I’ve already stepped down from my position at Plum Blossom Pavilion. In Wuzhen, they’re looking for craftsmen to build a residence. I instructed them to name it ‘Guan Si Paifang.’ Whoever inherits the house will also inherit the secret of the Silver-Eyed Bat.”

A middle-aged woman beside him nodded. “This arrangement is much simpler. The previous generation made things far too complicated—it cost us a great deal of effort and time.”

The last man, a burly fellow with a thick beard, laughed loudly. “Exactly. If danger arises again, send the Lu Ban construct to Guan Si Paifang. Zhao brother’s people will take it, and with the Silver-Eyed Bat leading the way, they’ll find the box at the riverbed in the valley. Once they read the silk manuscript, they’ll understand everything.”

At the words “Brother Zhao,” Mu Dai’s heart pounded. She thought, So this man really is Plum Blossom One Zhao.

Plum Blossom One Zhao sighed. “Even with these arrangements, who knows if something might go wrong? After all, no one can predict the future.”

The young woman in martial attire smiled, raised her bowl with both hands, and said, “We’re not immortals—who can plan for everything? This is as much as we can do. Come on, even if it’s a last meal before execution, we should still toast.”

At the words “last meal,” Mu Dai’s heart jolted. She looked at Wan San and the others—sure enough, every one of them had changed expression.

Plum Blossom One Zhao didn’t move. After a moment, he said, “I’m truly sorry to everyone.”

The bearded man laughed heartily. “I, Old Zhou, offended some villains and was already sentenced to death by law. If not for Brother Zhao saving me, I wouldn’t have lived this long anyway. What’s death? Losing a head is just a bowl-sized scar.”

The young woman laughed as well. “Brother Zhao helped me avenge a great wrong. I said back then I had nothing to repay him with but this life—take it whenever you wish. To die in the same place as you, Brother, I have no regrets.”

The sickly man lifted his bowl and drained it in one go. Acting as if nothing were amiss, he picked up his chopsticks, took a slice of pork, dipped it in sauce, and chewed. “I agreed from the start to be a death-sworn follower. You came to me because you knew I had a terminal illness. I was going to die sooner or later. Early or late makes no difference to me.”