SES Chapter 223 Part 1

Chapter 223: Epilogue

That night, the atmosphere was so tense it truly felt like the eve of a battle.

Using satellite maps online, Luo Ren roughly mapped out the terrain of Fengzi Ridge from above. The ridge resembled a giant phoenix-shaped clasp. Whether the geography itself held some faint sealing power was uncertain—but since this was to be their final attempt, they chose to follow certain ancient principles: symmetry along a central axis, balanced and orderly placement. In the end, they selected the very center of Fengzi Ridge, known as the “Ridge Eye.”

Luo Ren taught Shen Gun how to use a stun gun. “There’s another reason we chose this spot. If the worst happens and we can’t suppress the ominous slips inside us—if we turn violent—being in a remote place is safer than being around people. You’ll have to make a choice: knock us unconscious and tie us up… or eliminate us.”

When Cao Yan Hua heard the word “eliminate,” his heart sank so heavily that his chest felt tight. He pulled Wan San aside. “Is it really necessary, Brother San? Do we really have to ‘eliminate’?”

Wan San was quiet for a moment. “It sounds harsh to me too. But Luo Ren thought it through. If things go wrong, there are seven ominous slips among the five of us. Who knows what we’ll become? Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst.”

What would they become? For a fleeting instant, disturbing images flashed through Cao Yan Hua’s mind—the white-haired woman crawling on all fours in Sizhai Mountain, amber embedded in her throat like rouge, and Xiang Silan’s distorted chest, ribs arching around a visibly beating heart.

Shen Gun didn’t want to learn. “Forget it. How can I point weapons at my own friends?”

Luo Ren replied calmly, “Who knows if we’ll still be friends by then?”

Just like Luo Wenmiao years ago, after a certain turning point, he still walked, breathed, dressed, and slept, but he was no longer his uncle.

They set out early the next morning. The weather was poor—mist mixed with a drizzle. At checkout, Luo Ren overheard the front desk clerks chatting about how the north turned cold quickly. After the beginning of autumn, each rain brought a deeper chill. On the highest peaks, there might already be snow.

Snow would begin as small as the pom-pom on a wool cap, then grow into little triangular mounds, creeping downward through the winter season until the mountains lay blanketed white. And when the snow melted, a year would have quietly passed.

On the way, Luo Ren stopped at a fireworks shop and bought several strings of firecrackers. It was off-season; business was slow. The owner, delighted to have customers, threw in a handful of small fireworks for free. Cao Yan Hua assumed they were meant to set off for good luck.

Instead, Luo Ren handed them to Shen Gun. “Wan San said there are wolves deep in Fengzi Ridge. Probably not a whole pack—maybe just two or three strays. If you end up leaving the ridge alone and run into one, light a couple of these. Wolves are afraid of…”

“Firecrackers,” Shen Gun finished confidently. “I know. Used to hang around remote areas. A friend taught me—firecrackers are the easiest way. Oh, and if you bend down in front of a wolf, it might think you’re about to shoot and run off.”

Luo Ren laughed. “Your friend knows his stuff.”

Shen Gun beamed. Praise for his friend pleased him more than praise for himself. “Of course.”

Near Fengzi Ridge, they parked again in front of Old Ding’s place. Old Ding had a sharp business sense this time. He had his wife bring out a huge military tarp to cover the car.

As he paid, Luo Ren remarked, “Great service.”

Old Ding grinned. “Of course. I’ve been thinking—when peak season comes, and self-driving tourists show up, I won’t even guide tours anymore. I’ll set up parking spots, watch the cars, and charge for cleaning. People who can afford cars aren’t stingy. Easy money.”

As he spoke, he eyed the boxes Wan San and Cao Yan Hua were unloading. Each trip into the mountains, they carried more equipment. Were they digging for something?

A thought occurred to him. Perhaps he could squeeze out more money. “I’ll tell you—anything in the mountains belongs to the state. You can’t just dig it up. Business is business, but if you break the law, I’ll report you.”

He figured Luo Ren was generous—maybe he’d get some hush money.

Luo Ren smiled, slung an arm around his shoulder, and dragged him aside. Lowering his voice, he said, “Actually, we’re looking for that dog from years ago. You know the tree? We dug there. Nothing underneath. It might have crawled out from underground.”

Old Ding’s legs trembled in fright. Luo Ren burst out laughing and pushed him away. “Watch my car. If it gets scratched, we’re not done.”

They hiked, rotated, carrying the boxes, checked their locator and terrain map to calculate direction and distance. The path wasn’t difficult, but the higher they climbed, the colder it became.

Rain drifted through the gray mist.

Yan Hongsha commented, “I wonder if the Ridge Eye is the highest point. I used to think Fengzi Ridge embraced a valley. If we’re climbing higher, it really does look like a phoenix clasping the ominous slips.”

Wan San nodded. “The more it looks like that, the better. Didn’t Feng Shui masters use to choose auspicious sites? Maybe terrain has spirit—the more it resembles something powerful, the more powerful it is.”

By around four in the afternoon, they reached the spot.

The Ridge Eye was elevated but not a steep peak—more like a vast platform. Standing there, they could clearly see three surrounding “ridge heads,” massive and oddly shaped. They didn’t resemble a phoenix at close range—perhaps because they were within it.

Mu Dai murmured, “If only we had one of Lu Ban’s wooden kites. We could fly around and see what the mountain really looks like.”

They set up camp against a huge rock to block the wind. As darkness fell, the temperature dropped perceptibly. Fortunately, they’d brought thick spare clothing—zipped up, buttoned tight.

Luo Ren, as always, marked their boundary. He hammered two bolts into the nearby rock face, looped rope around a boulder, and secured a triangular perimeter. Mu Dai helped, her hands stiffening in the cold wind, rubbing them and breathing warm air onto them.

When she exhaled for the last time, Luo Ren finished and covered her hands in his own. Looking up at the sky, he said, “If Tong County gets snow, the first flakes will land here on Fengzi Ridge. These phoenixes will turn white first.”

“When we’re old and our hair turns white, we’ll come back. Phoenixes with white heads, a couple growing old together—our golden anniversary.”

Mu Dai smiled. “Don’t talk about getting old.”

But the wind picked up, rain brushing across her nose. Luo Ren laughed. He was at that perfect age—still young in appearance, but his eyes deeper now, temperament steadier. Life was no longer something to rush through like wind; it was something to swim in—stroke by stroke.

How would he look when old? Standing before her, hair white, holding her weathered hands, smiling with deep wrinkles like the rings of an ancient tree.