SES Chapter 226 Part 1

Chapter 226

The doorway was dark and unfathomably deep. There was no way to see what lay inside—but that didn’t matter. When you’ve reached a dead end, you take the only road you can see.

Mu Dai clenched her teeth, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and stepped toward it.

Behind her, several shadowy figures panicked, pushing and shoving one another.

—It’s over, it’s over, she’s going out!

—She won’t make it out, don’t panic.

—Stop her! Stop her!

The last word shot up into a long, shrill note. Before the echo faded, a thin, lanky figure was shoved forward. It staggered, then turned back to see the others waving at it frantically, like they were shooing away a fly.

—Think of something! Hurry up and stop her!

The figure chased after Mu Dai for a couple of steps, then suddenly remembered something and doubled back. It fumbled around until it found Mu Dai’s shoes, slipped its long, skinny arms into them—like putting on gloves.

At the threshold, Mu Dai paused for a beat, then plunged straight in.

Inside was a black cavern. Suspended in midair directly ahead was a faintly glowing object—a dial. A slender stone pillar stood upright on its surface, and the shadow it cast pointed to a position like twelve o’clock on a normal clock face. Above the dial hovered a transparent funnel filled with fine white sand.

Behind her came a small, breathless voice. “Wait for me—I’m coming!”

Mu Dai turned around and saw the thin figure offering her the shoes in a fawning manner.

She was about to snatch them back when a flash of realization struck her. She suppressed her irritation and anger, speaking gently instead. “It’s you. I recognize your voice—you were trying to help me earlier.”

When the figure saw that she hadn’t taken the shoes, it simply tied the laces together and hung them around its neck, clearly delighted. “Yes, yes, I’m a good guy. I’m here to help you.”

Yeah, right. As if anyone would believe that.

Keeping her expression neutral, Mu Dai said, “You’re really kind. Which Star Slip are you? What number are you among the ones we collected?”

The figure was nothing more than a simplified human outline, without real hands. It crossed its long, thin arms into a crooked shape resembling the number seven.

“Call me Little Seven.”

The seventh one.

The very Star Slip Luo Ren had identified as the most cunning—one that had lain dormant for a long time, coordinating everything from the shadows. Now it looked harmless, even childlike, its voice starting to sound like a kid’s.

A chill crept up Mu Dai’s spine. A murderous slip appearing in this form was far more unsettling than one with fangs and a ferocious face.

She reminded herself to stay calm. The most skilled liars weren’t the ones who told nothing but lies—they were the ones who told you countless truths, lulled you into letting your guard down, and then slipped in the crucial lie.

This was a strange and unfamiliar situation. This seemingly kind “Little Seven” might feed her a lot of information and guidance. She would have to believe some of it—but never all of it.

Her palm grew damp with sweat. Mu Dai exhaled softly and pointed at the dial. “Is that a clock?”

Little Seven said, “That’s an ancient timekeeping device—called a gnomon, or a sundial. The hand is the shadow of the sun.”

That made sense to Mu Dai. When she’d been researching the flying ridge beast of Wuzhu Village, she’d read about the Forbidden City, which also had sundials—sometimes called “sun clocks.” They didn’t work on cloudy or rainy days.

She pointed at the funnel. “And that’s a clepsydra? Another timekeeper?”

“Yes, yes.”

Lowering its voice, Little Seven whispered, “I’m a good guy, so I’ll tell you—Phoenix Luan Clasps are divided into ‘death sacrifices’ and ‘living sacrifices.’ Death sacrifices are the most common and the easiest. Over the years, you’re not the first ones to attempt a living sacrifice. No one has ever succeeded.”

So it was true—not everyone wanted to die. Others before them had tried to seal the vicious slips while staying alive. Mu Dai grew excited. “Why didn’t they succeed?”

“Because living is harder than dying, I guess.”

That was true. Death was giving up once and for all. Living meant pressing on through adversity.

Little Seven raised its skinny arms and spun in a circle. “This is the Hall of the Four Mirage Towers—the final step of the living sacrifice. It’s also the single path to survival offered by the Phoenix Luan Clasp.”

“Remember when I told you that time in the real world has stopped for you, but here, you’ve been sent back to the beginning?”

Mu Dai nodded.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

Little Seven pointed toward the sundial. “Your first twenty-four years are all here. You have to go back and repair them.”

“When you start running toward the sundial, your life begins—starting from birth.”

“The sun’s shadow will begin to move, and the clepsydra will start draining sand. When the sand runs out, that’s the moment your time stops in the real world.”

“You’ll keep running, reliving those twenty-four years. They’ll streak past you like meteors, but you’ll see every important moment.”

“You can stop. You can even exert force to change things—but not for too long. And you can only act on your past self. But I don’t recommend it. Change even a tiny thing, and your life will be completely different.”

“At the very end, there’ll be a door. Push it open, and you’ll be out.”

Mu Dai didn’t believe it. “That’s it? That simple?”

“Yes. And you’d better run fast. If you’re the first to arrive, maybe you can help your companions.”

“If it’s just running, why did all those previous people fail?”

Little Seven didn’t want to explain. “You’ll understand once you go in.”

Then there was no choice but to run. She understood what Little Seven meant—her companions were going through the same ordeal. Their lives couldn’t be altered if they were all to reach the same endpoint and push open that door together.

Mu Dai steeled herself and sprinted toward the sundial. She didn’t want those ten thousand possibilities. She wouldn’t change anything. She’d just lower her head and run.

She’d barely started when a loud baby’s cry rang out, bringing her to an abrupt halt.

Beside her appeared ripples like a curtain of water—a delivery room. Medical staff in old-fashioned white coats, walls painted white and green.

She was being born.

Who were her biological parents?

The sundial stayed directly ahead of her as she moved. Fine white sand slid softly across the dial, grain by grain, falling at her feet.

She wasn’t going to change anything. She just wanted to know.

Her hands trembling, Mu Dai reached out and touched the rippling surface. A powerful force seized her, pulling her inside.

It was a noisy hospital ward. She saw dirty bedding. Was that tiny, flailing infant her? Crying loudly—then suddenly a disheveled woman stuffed an empty pacifier into the baby’s mouth.

That was… Xiang Silan?

Some women had come to visit—stockings, permed hair, lipstick. A hand with bright red nail polish pointed and poked as they talked about Xiang Silan. “So careless, hitting the jackpot like this. Makes business harder.”

Xiang Silan snapped back irritably, “How was I supposed to know whose kid it was? I took the pills, damn it. Must’ve been fake—didn’t work at all.”

“Didn’t we tell you to jump rope?”

“I did. Kid’s got a tough life.”

As she spoke, she shoved the baby aside in disgust.

Little Seven was right beside Mu Dai, making bubbling noises, and asked, “Go?”

Mu Dai looked at Xiang Silan. “Go.”

She backed away step by step, retreating into the dark passage.

So Xiang Silan really was her biological mother.

Tears fell uncontrollably. Mu Dai wiped them away and told herself: It’s okay. There have always been parents in this world who don’t love their children. She just happened to get one of them.