SES Chapter 178 Part 3

Chapter 178 Extra

The night was deep and quiet. Once again, Fog-Locked Town lay shrouded in mist. The electric light over the gatehouse flicked on, and an inconspicuous boxy delivery van pulled up in front of the mansion. Painted on its side was an advertisement: “Fresh vegetables, delivered fresh to your home.”

The driver wore a logistics uniform and a brimmed cap. He stood by the rear of the truck, and when he saw Leopard bringing Mu Dai out, he immediately opened the cargo door.

A damp, musty smell wafted out—vegetables that had been sealed up for too long. Leopard shoved Mu Dai, her hands cuffed with plastic restraints, into the truck and gave her an injection.

The icy liquid entered her veins. Mu Dai stared wide-eyed at Leopard.

She was a beautiful, sinister woman, dressed all in black, with long hair. A black leather eyepatch covered one eye. Right in front of Mu Dai, she slowly put on a pair of sunglasses.

As the drug began to take effect, Mu Dai’s consciousness started to blur. Strangely, she thought: This woman looks just like the kind of person I once dreamed of becoming.

Back when she was learning martial arts, her mind often wandered. She had once gestured animatedly while telling Plum Blossom Ninth Lady,
“Master, when I grow up, I want to be a really cool female knight.”

“All in black, with handsome boots. I won’t show my face—I’ll wear a mask. I’ll appear in the dark corners of the city late at night, and if I see anyone doing bad things, I’ll beat them up.”

Plum Blossom Ninth Lady lowered her head and sipped her tea. “Take a look at what you’re wearing now. Cats and puppies all over your clothes. Do you look like a cool female knight to you?”

Mu Dai grinned smugly. “Master, you don’t get it. That’s called contrast. The bigger the contrast, the less people will ever suspect me. Everyone around me will think I’m silly and childish, but actually I’m incredibly smart!”

Plum Blossom Ninth Lady choked on her tea.

…

The cargo doors slowly closed, inch by inch, shutting out the light. Just at that moment, Mu Dai didn’t know where the strength came from, but she suddenly struggled and lunged forward, bracing herself hard against the doors as they were about to shut.

Through the narrow crack, she looked straight at Leopard’s eye.

She asked, “Where is my master?”

“Dead.”

Mu Dai’s eyelids suddenly became unbearably heavy. She collapsed softly onto the floor of the truck, hearing the heavy clang of the lock and the driver’s ingratiating voice.

“Enough to keep her asleep for twenty-four hours.”

The truck started moving, bumping along the uneven road—the town’s distinctive bluestone pavement. Mu Dai lay there, her back pressed against a sheet of cold metal through her thin clothes.

Her eyes were closed. Her curled fingers twitched intermittently and unconsciously as she thought, I don’t want to sleep for twenty-four hours.

A crushing weariness dragged her downward, pulling her back into the previous night: endless white fog, impenetrable darkness, the silver-eyed bat darting up and down in the air, and her master’s voice, drifting faintly as if coming from all directions.

—Mu Dai, the silver-eyed bat, can only find its way on nights when nothing can be seen. You go in one night and come out the next.

—Only the silver-eyed bat can find this path. Some say that long ago a master laid out the mountains and rivers here, turning them into a vast maze. It might be true. Your senior brother and I both tried—broad daylight, clear visibility—yet we would suddenly lose our bearings and never find our way out.

—This Fog Town lies within the Yunling mountain range, shrouded in mist year-round. My residence is called Guan Si Paifang. Put together, it means “Below Yunling, observe the Four Archways.” Perhaps one day, someone will find this place and bring the seven keys.

—What those seven keys look like, I’ve never seen, and neither did your grandmaster. If you never encounter them in this lifetime, remember to take in a reliable disciple and pass this matter down.

—The silver-eyed bat will lead you to the true Guan Si Paifang. Do you know what a paifang looks like?

Mu Dai knew what a paifang looked like. Out of curiosity, she had once searched for images. They were tall and imposing, broad and flat, categorized by the number of bays: one bay with two pillars, three bays with four pillars, five bays with six pillars.

The path kept stretching forward. Her breathing grew rapid. Leaves rustled underfoot as her eyes chased that fleeting shadow flying through the mist, afraid that a single misstep would make her lose it.

She didn’t know how long she had been walking when she stepped into running water, knee-deep and murmuring. As she waded forward, the current gradually weakened, revealing smooth, rounded stones beneath—polished bright by long years of flowing water.

This was the stream her master, Plum Blossom Ninth Lady, had mentioned—the one that dried up at some point before dawn, only to resume flowing after daybreak.

The silver-eyed bat stopped, perching on a high rock, its wings gently fluttering as if waiting for her.

Mu Dai looked at it. At that moment, the bat suddenly took off, circled once in midair, then, without warning, plunged straight down into the riverbed.

What was it doing?

Mu Dai quickly pulled out the miniature flashlight she always carried, crouched down, and switched it on, aiming it at the riverbed. The weak beam did little against the thick fog, but it was enough to see up close.

The bat lay there with its wings spread, embedded perfectly into a slick bluish stone at the bottom of the river, fitting as tightly as if molded into place.

What did this mean? Did the surface of this stone have a bat-shaped indentation?

A faint vibration suddenly came up from under her feet. Mu Dai stepped back a few paces and suddenly understood.

This was a mechanism. The silver-eyed bat was the first key to opening it.

With a thunderous rumble, the riverbed split apart to either side. Two rectangular stone slabs beneath slowly slid away, revealing a space about six feet deep. In the center of that space stood a miniature structure, about three feet cubed.

Guan Si Paifang. This was the true Guan Si Paifang.

Holding her breath, Mu Dai lightly jumped down and walked around it, studying it as she went.

This was no ordinary paifang. This one had five bays and five pillars.

On the surface, that sounded hard to understand, but it wasn’t mystical at all. Ordinary paifangs are flat structures. This one, however, had five pillars arranged in a pentagon, creating five outward-facing sides—each one a bay.

At the very center of the paifang, suspended at an off-kilter angle, floated a wooden box. At the base of the structure was a recessed yin-yang bagua with twin fish, the surface seemingly holding a thin layer of water that shimmered faintly.

Mu Dai reached out to take it, but was stopped—as if by an invisible pane of glass. She tapped it with a finger, and a dull sound rang out.

She understood. The interior of the paifang was a single block of transparent, solid—like crystal or glass—and the wooden box was embedded at its very center. How was she supposed to get it out?

She examined it carefully and finally noticed that on each of the five sides were tiny holes, unevenly distributed, at different heights. From specific angles, she could faintly see that the depths of the holes also varied.

She counted them. Seven in total.

Something stirred in her mind. Her master had mentioned seven keys. Could it be that the seven keys weren’t the imagined ancient objects, but these smooth, wedge-shaped pieces instead?

Like the silver-eyed bat, the seven keys would together activate a mechanism. Only when all seven were brought here would the paifang open, allowing the box to be retrieved.

Her master had said that inside that box lay a… world-shaking secret.

Mu Dai’s gaze fell on the plaque of the paifang. There was an inscription—an archaic form of the character “Mu.”

…

The truck suddenly swerved sharply, as if avoiding something. Mu Dai’s body rolled across the cargo floor, her fingernails digging deep into her palm.

Don’t sleep for twenty-four hours. Wake up. Wake up.

From outside the truck came the driver’s angry shout: “Watch where you’re going! Are you blind or what?”

…

The truck sped away, leaving behind a lone figure standing on the dirt road.

He had hair that was half-curly, half-straight, black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Traveling through the night, he carried only a large non-woven cloth bag slung over his back, printed with the slogan: “More leisurely than Lijiang, more comfortable than Dali.”

Being shouted at for no reason clearly annoyed him. He had been walking perfectly fine—it was the truck that had suddenly shot out, wasn’t it? Did traffic rules just not apply in the middle of nowhere?

He bent down, picked up a small stone, pulled out a slingshot from his bag, wrapped the stone in the rubber band, and viciously fired it in the direction the truck had gone.

The stone vanished into the darkening night with a faint whistle of wind.

He bared his teeth and shouted after it, “Try running into me again next time! I’ll make you regret it!”

Dawn was approaching.

Luo Ren walked over to the faucet outside a guesthouse and turned it all the way on. Water roared out.

He bent forward under the stream, a powerful jet pounding the top of his head. Fine sprays splashed across his face and soaked down the back of his collar.

His head throbbed. The alcohol hadn’t worn off. He remembered fighting with Qing Mu, drinking far too much, and storming off after a disagreement. He must have walked all over the old town that night.

He shut off the faucet and sat down on the steps. Water dripped beside him, darkening the concrete.

Qing Mu’s words still rang in his ears.

—She matters to you, not to me. You want me to handle everything—if she dies in the process, will you blame me?

—Luo, Leopard has already crushed your spirit. She hasn’t even made a move yet, and you’re already afraid of her.

—Leopard had nothing to begin with. You handed her her greatest bargaining chip.

At the end, Qing Mu had asked him, “Why did you fall in love with her? If you hadn’t, none of this trouble would exist.”

Luo Ren laughed out loud, laughing until tears came.

Yes. No one could look after anyone else. Qing Mu had no obligation to shoulder his burdens. The girl he fell in love with—he would protect her himself.

The sun rose.

The guesthouse opened for business. Voices gradually filled the air. Phones rang, one after another.

After a while, Luo Ren realized the phone was his.

He took it out and answered.

The call was from Wan Fenghuo.

That was Wan Fenghuo’s style—no distinction between day and night. Any news had to be delivered immediately, while it was still fresh.

On the phone, Wan Fenghuo said, “Found a little something—not a huge breakthrough. Take a look first. I’ve sent it to you. Leopard’s ancestral hometown. The old family house was demolished long ago. Took a few photos of the area.”

Leopard’s ancestral home was by the sea, but unlike most people from Fujian or Guangdong who went overseas, hers was in a small town in Zhejiang.

By “a few photos,” Wan Fenghuo meant pictures of the town itself.

After hanging up, Luo Ren opened the images.

An old-fashioned town, half-developed, cramped and chaotic. Low buildings, rows of parked bicycles, a stone bridge over the river…

A stone bridge?

Luo Ren’s heart jolted. Slowly, he slid back to the previous photo, zoomed in, then zoomed in again.

If he remembered correctly, this was the third time he had seen an image of a stone bridge.

A small town in Zhejiang. A stone slab bridge. The carved stepping stones—the same as the massive underwater mural at Five-Pearl Village, only more complete.

This was… Leopard’s ancestral home?