SES Chapter 206 Part 1

Chapter 206

Once the character blocks were set into place, a low, muffled humming came from inside the box, like old gears grinding into motion. Moments later, the base layer split open from the center and slid into the walls on all sides. Another base rose beneath it and came to a stop.

The box was designed much like an elevator: one level withdrew, another replaced it. Watching this, Cao Yanhua couldn’t help but grumble inwardly again about Lu Ban hoarding his secrets.

This new layer was slightly deeper—about ten centimeters by rough estimate. Inside lay a folded piece of brocade silk. On the base were still two recessed square grooves, each about one square centimeter, carved with kite-shaped patterns.

At first, Luo Ren found it odd that this layer held only silk and no character blocks—how was the mechanism supposed to be triggered? Then it occurred to him: the first set of blocks hadn’t been put back. The movable characters likely still needed to be selected and used again.

The Taoist reached out to pick up the silk. Cao Yanhua tensed. “Sir, be careful—that’s cloth.”

After all these years, wouldn’t it have already rotted away? Would it crumble to dust the moment it was touched, like in adventure movies?

It didn’t. Not only that—the Taoist looked surprised as he felt it. “It still feels new. Doesn’t seem like something from thousands of years ago.”

Sure enough, once he unfolded the first layer, a line of inked characters appeared:

The silk text has decayed. Copied as-is and left for later generations to read. Written by Zhao.

Mu Dai’s heart stirred. Could this “Zhao” refer to Mei Blossom Zhao? Back then, when they opened the box, had the original silk manuscript already decayed so badly that they copied it word for word?

She urged, “See what it says inside.”

The brocade slowly unfurled, densely covered in writing. In the center was a perfectly round blank space containing an illustration, titled “The Seven Stars Killing Formation.”

In the heavens was the Big Dipper; on the earth, its corresponding formation. Each of the seven earthly stars was drawn like a primitive cave painting or pottery figure—tall, distorted proportions, strange postures, arms exaggeratedly raised toward the sky. Around each figure were two rings: the inner ring was made up of people—more precisely, corpses—seven of them; the outer ring consisted of sacrificial animals: oxen, pigs, sheep, and the like.

Wan San blurted out, “Tengma Diaotai!”

Then he quickly explained, “I don’t mean it is Tengma Diaotai. I mean, it feels the same—like a sacrificial ritual. Ancient sacrifices always involved slaughtering livestock, right?”

Luo Ren pointed at the inner ring of corpses. “And human sacrifices too. Seven of them.”

Human sacrifice? That was horrifying. Yan Hongsha shivered.

The Taoist, however, found it unremarkable. “In ancient times—not just in China, but worldwide—ritual killing was common. Some estimates say that during the Shang dynasty alone, over fourteen thousand people were killed for divination sacrifices. What Wan San and Luo Ren said is right: inner ring human sacrifice, outer ring animal sacrifice. The figure with raised arms was probably the presiding priest.”

Mu Dai asked softly, “Could those figures represent the ferocious slips?”

She stared at the drawings—they looked eerily similar to the elongated, distorted shadows from her dreams, whispering “hide it” as they shoved and jostled.

Luo Ren nodded. “It’s possible. Or they might represent the so-called ‘Star Lords.’ Seven stars in the sky, seven positions on the ground, seven human sacrifices—it matches what Ya Feng mentioned about the number seven repeated.”

Cao Yanhua jumped in, “And Leopard’s ancestor committed all seven deadly crimes. That looks like completing one-seventh of this Seven Stars Formation. Sir, let’s read what the silk actually says.”

The writing was obscure and dense; reading it straight through would take ages. This time, the Taoist read it line by line, explaining each sentence as he went. When something was unclear, they discussed it together. By the end, everyone understood.

The Seven Stars Killing Formation told a vast, sweeping story.

Ancient people, limited by technology and understanding, described it in terms of the mystical and the fated. But in modern terms, it might be easier to understand through science.

The universe is filled with radiation—streams of high-energy charged particles. Scientists jokingly say it’s like endless rain showers constantly pouring down on Earth, some of it harmful.

The most familiar example is ultraviolet radiation from the sun; too much exposure can cause skin cancer.

Studies suggest cosmic radiation may be linked to mutations in human cells. For astronauts, one of the greatest threats in space is cosmic radiation—it can damage and rearrange DNA, transforming life into unrecognizable forms or causing inexplicable deaths.

Fortunately, Earth’s magnetic field deflects charged particles like a hurricane, scattering dust. The atmosphere absorbs and dissipates much of the rest. And thanks to the vastness of space, many deadly rays lose their power after traveling billions of years, arriving weak and mostly harmless.

For most people on Earth, the terror of cosmic radiation is nothing compared to losing internet access, docked pay, or being late for work.

The Big Dipper hangs overhead like a massive ladle, watching this blue planet calmly for eons—like an eye half-open in the sky.

The tiny trace of special radiation it emits usually loses its energy through Earth’s layers—until one day it is received by a suitable vessel: people whose hearts already harbor malice, whose “evil genes” are infinitely amplified.

The silk text says:

The power of the Seven Stars alters the human heart, devours good and exalts evil, strengthens the body, sharpens movement, even grants rebirth—thus the ancients feared and worshiped it.

Primitive worship often stemmed from fear, the unknown, reproduction, and the avoidance of death. “Rebirth” alone was enough to elevate the Seven Stars into a totem.

Thus began the worship of evil. From faint traces of energy, bolstered by belief and obsession, it eventually formed seven inexplicable, malevolent forces.

The earliest written records describe tortoise shells and animal bones inscribed with the seven crimes as vessels for this power. Worship of the Star Lords spread like sparks across ochre land.

At first, there were small-scale sacrifices and followers. Some may have witnessed the “miracles” of those possessed, becoming obsessed and spreading the belief.

But early human societies were limited in scope. This “evil” remained confined to certain places—valleys, rivers. At the time, death and bloodshed were common; only innocent people felt fear, sensing that those who touched the bones had changed, possessed by something fierce.

Over time, as civilization expanded, more people saw it as ominous. They believed the bones could corrupt hearts. Eventually, during divine divination, it was foretold that a great virtuous figure would arise to end this calamity.

Laozi lived in the late Spring and Autumn period. With population growth and cultural exchange, powerful thinkers emerged. The worship of the ferocious slips finally met true opposition, and the seven slips were sealed for the first time.