“What if the Phoenix Lock opens again someday?”

“Don’t worry, no one in this world can open the Phoenix Lock.”

Now, looking at these rows of names, five people per group, it truly seemed like a delayed reckoning for Laozi’s boastful claim.

Shen Gun murmured, “Even great sages can be wrong sometimes.”

Cao Yanhua couldn’t understand: “Back then, since Laozi was able to seal the seven malevolent bamboo slips, why didn’t he simply destroy them? Cutting the grass without eliminating the roots has caused endless trouble for generations.”

Luo Ren said, “If you can think of this point, surely Laozi must have thought of it too—sealing rather than destroying can only mean one thing.”

Yan Hongshu turned to look at him: “What does it mean?”

The answer came from Mu Dai instead. She kept her gaze fixed on the rows of names, her eyes suffused with starry silver light, and said, “He probably couldn’t destroy them.”

A moment of silence followed. Only Cao Jiefang was jubilant, flapping his little wings and flying high and low, trying to peck at the bright characters on the fog with his chicken beak, pecking at emptiness each time—not understanding these were merely projections without substance, his small eyes filled with confusion at his inability to grasp anything.

The projected light characters gradually faded and blurred, as if about to merge with the fog at any moment. The radiance shooting from the Four Archways also slowly dimmed. Luo Ren was the first to come to his senses: “Let’s go check the archways.”

As they walked over, they heard Cao Yanhua speaking behind them: “Little Master, don’t you feel that these names give you goosebumps?”

Yan Hongshu asked curiously, “Why?”

Luo Ren smiled slightly. Red Sand was consistently averse to using her brain. Whenever they discussed something, her eyes would widen the most, and her lines were usually “Why?” “Tell me quickly!” or “Explain it to me!”

Cao Yanhua muttered, “It’s a bit like a memorial for the dead. Isn’t that how names are listed on tombstones?”

Yan Hongshu spat at him: “Aren’t they dead people? The last round of capturing the malevolent slips was during the Ming Dynasty. If they lived until now without dying, how terrifying would that be?”

Cao Yanhua wasn’t convinced: “There are two kinds of death—one from old age, and one from dying young… Hey, Little Master, did your Grand Master ever mention how our lineage’s founder, that Plum Blossom Zhao, died?”

There was no answer. An unusual silence descended. Luo Ren stopped and turned to look at her.

Mu Dai frowned, as if trying hard to remember something. After a pause, she spoke, sounding uncertain.

“My master never explicitly mentioned it, but I remember once when we were practicing, Master lamented that many of the techniques in our sect were created by the founder, but she hadn’t perfected them—if the founder had only lived longer, even just an average lifespan, perhaps the effectiveness of the techniques would have been very different.”

Cao Yanhua thought to himself: So she died young, and Grand Master was being quite euphemistic. Capturing the malevolent slips, I wouldn’t dare call it something great, but it was certainly selfless dedication—how is it that good people don’t get rewarded with good fortune?

Since it involved his master’s lineage, he swallowed these words before they could see the light of day.

Luo Ren felt an inexplicable heaviness in his heart.

—Archways, first seen in the Zhou Dynasty, were initially memorial structures to honor filial piety, commonly found in gardens, temples, palaces, tombs, and streets.

Honor, tombs—neither were words that could make one’s heart rejoice.

The radiance at the Four Archways faded, the projected light characters disappeared, and the wind had stopped at some unknown time. The swirling fog dispersed again, once more enshrouding the valley in mist.

The box had changed from tilted to upright. Looking carefully, it had originally been suspended in the center of the glass-like structure, but now it was close to the edge.

Yan Hongshu gasped: “Will the box pop out with a ‘puff’ sound after a while?”

Yi Wansan instinctively objected: “That’s impossible. It’s a solid, after all.”

To be honest, he privately hadn’t given up on the small scheme of chipping off a piece of “diamond” to take back, completely failing to consider that if it were diamond, with diamond’s hardness, there would be no tool capable of chipping it.

After speaking, as if to prove his point, he reached out to tap the glass surface. When his hand made contact, his expression changed, and he shouted: “It’s softened!”

Not only had it softened, but the sensation had changed from the original ice-cold to slightly warm, as if gradually heating up.

Luo Ren crouched down, reminding everyone to look at the base of the Four Archways.

The yin-yang double fish Taiji disk had each of its surfaces filled with water. Not only that, but tiny bubbles continuously rose and burst from the bottom of the disk—the water was gradually boiling.

Even stranger, water should be flowing, boundless, without boundaries or seams, but in this disk, one could see an S-shaped curve dividing the water. The pushing forces on both sides seemed to be competing with each other. The two fish, biting each other’s tails, slowly began to swim, with whirlpool-like eyes appearing on their heads.

The pushing force and resistance became increasingly intense. Sharp serrations appeared at the S-shaped curve, as if one side’s power was rapidly biting into the other, reminiscent of ancient battlefields—from confronting battle formations to vanguard combat, to large-scale charges and assaults.

No one was paying attention to the box anymore. Everyone held their breath, watching the changing water patterns in the Taiji disk. After such a contest, what would the final result be?

Just as the water lost all boundaries and the entire disk began to boil, there was a crisp sound like shattering crystal. The side facing Mu Dai—she reacted with incredible speed, throwing herself to the ground.

The box had indeed shot out from the glass structure with tremendous force, passing just over the top of her head with a muffled sound, landing about ten meters behind her.

Shining their flashlights, they saw the box—dark, solid, silent—without a lock, yet it made everyone feel breathless.

Shen Gun inadvertently pulled his gaze back and exclaimed: “This, this…”

How to describe it? The glass structure had completely distorted and transformed. In the center was an outward-projecting line, precisely the instantaneous shape of the box’s ejection. Tapping it with a flashlight produced a metallic sound, once again ice-cold and hard as before.

The seven wooden pieces made by Lu Ban were half-exposed outside the glass structure. Pushing them with a hand, they still seemed movable.

The Four Archways, completely lacking the form of a lock, was yet the world’s most inconceivable… safe, perfectly conforming to the principle of a lock.

The seal script character for “lock” (锁) has “metal” (釒) on the left half, while the right half has a top-bottom structure with “water” (氺) above and the traditional form of “shell” (貝) below—using metal and water to hide valuable treasures.

These Four Archways, built in a riverbed that runs dry at midnight but has flowing water during the day; this glass-like structure, solid as metal when closed and fluid as water when opened—it was truly a naturally formed, ideographic and pictographic “lock.”

A thin rope was tied at one end to a tent peg and at the other to Cao Jiefang’s leg, allowing him “limited freedom of movement” outside.

The divider in the outer section of the tent was lowered. Flashlights hung from the center and four walls, illuminating the tent as bright as day. Everyone sat in a large circle. The door’s zipper was pulled completely shut, and except for the ventilation mesh, the inside was almost completely sealed off from the river, fog, and Four Archways.

In the center of the circle sat the dark box.

Cao Yanhua felt somewhat uncomfortable. The black box kept reminding him of the thing rescue personnel search for first after a plane crash—this evening, too many signs had triggered ominous associations with death.

Shen Gun rubbed his hands together and reached out to open the lid. Halfway there, he seemed to think of something and withdrew his hand.

Mu Dai said, “I’ll do it.”

“Hurry to the foot of Cloud Ridge, view the Four Archways”—the wooden key had been given to her, the secret had been told to her by her master, Plum Blossom Ninth Lady, and the leader of the last round of capturing the malevolent bamboo slips had been her lineage’s founder.

It should be her.

She rolled up both sleeves to her elbows, took a deep breath, and reached out. Her fingers hovered near the box lid for a moment before slowly lifting it.

Except for Luo Ren, everyone’s bodies unconsciously leaned backward: who knew what might emerge? Poisonous mist? A shower of flying needles? Or would it explode with a boom?

In truth, the tent was narrow. If any of these guesses proved correct, no one would escape.

Fortunately, all remained calm.

Mu Dai made a sound of surprise: “So shallow?”

Shen Gun had measured with his tape earlier; this wooden box was about 30cm high, but once the lid was opened, the depth was only about 5cm.

There must be a hidden compartment below.

Inside the box was a wooden panel covered with dense characters and drawings. The panel was divided into small squares, each about one square centimeter, with a space left in the bottom right corner, making it convenient to remove the character panels piece by piece.

It was somewhat like the sliding puzzles children play with, except this panel had more squares. After removing the wooden panel, two indented squares about one square centimeter each appeared on the smooth bottom of the box, with kite engravings in the recesses.

Another creation of Lu Ban?

Shen Gun had a sudden thought and pried out a couple of character panels from the space in the wooden panel—it wasn’t difficult; each square of the character panel was movable. The backs all featured kite images, but looking carefully, they weren’t identical. Some kites had raised heads, others lowered heads, reminiscent of the stone lions on Marco Polo Bridge—appearing similar at first glance, but actually, no two were alike.

Shen Gun excitedly said, “I understand now. This is like a movable type printing block. Each piece can be detached. The bottoms have kite images, and we need to select two of them to press into the recessed squares—after pressing them in, the hidden compartment might appear. In other words, there’s still a mechanism inside this box.”

Yi Wansan frowned, feeling that this Lu Ban was being excessively showy: Yes, we know you’re clever, but couldn’t you be a bit more low-key? The silver-eyed bat and the Four Archways were already so mysterious, but even a wooden box needed mechanisms within mechanisms—was it necessary?

Luo Ren suddenly thought of something: “This movable type panel is a bit like the movable type printing technology. But I remember that movable type printing was invented by Bi Sheng during the Northern Song Dynasty, right? That’s nearly a thousand years after Lu Ban’s time.”

Cao Yanhua snorted: “Brother Luo, don’t you understand Lu Ban by now? He’s the classic example of keeping secrets to himself. He built a wooden kite that could fly in the sky, but did you see him pass on that technology to anyone? Maybe he invented the movable type panel first, but kept quiet about it, which is why so many years later, Bi Sheng had to invent it himself. If he had any sense of sharing, China’s technological level would have advanced rapidly—the first to land on the moon certainly wouldn’t have been the Americans.”

Who would have thought that beneath Cao Yanhua’s crystal-clear glass heart beat a passionate patriotic one?

What he said made sense. Luo Ren smiled wryly and reminded Shen Gun: “See what the wooden panel says.”

Shen Gun made an affirmative sound, took out a folding magnifying glass from his shoulder bag, adjusted the glasses on his nose, and began examining the wooden panel. After a while, his expression grew increasingly strange. He said, “Little Radish, get some paper and a pen. We need to draw something.”

It was probably difficult to understand. Having departed in haste, they hadn’t brought paper. Luo Ren pulled out a spare ground sheet from his backpack and asked everyone to help spread it out, then tossed two fluorescent markers onto it.

Shen Gun ignored everything around him, continuing to examine the wooden panel with furrowed brows, occasionally looking up at the tent ceiling, appearing deep in thought.

The wooden panel wasn’t long and could be read quickly. After reading it, he passed it to Yan Hongshu. She grew anxious at the sight of a screen full of unfamiliar ancient characters with strokes like crawling ants. Glancing at it, she only saw a yin-yang Taiji diagram, then promptly passed the wooden panel to Mu Dai beside her, saying to Shen Gun: “Explain it to us.”

The characters were too small, making Mu Dai slightly dizzy as she read. Cao Yanhua leaned over to look with her, muttering at the side: “Damn, what is this thing? What is Laozi saying, and why does the person look like a pancake…”

By the time it reached Yi Wansan’s hands, he couldn’t be bothered to look and directly passed it to Luo Ren. Someone would share what they’d read anyway, saving time and being more efficient.

Luo Ren held it in his hands but didn’t pass it back to Shen Gun: “Explain it while I look.”

Shen Gun grabbed a marker, removed the cap, and seemed to be considering how to begin the topic.

“On this wooden panel, there’s a yin-yang double fish Taiji diagram. Historically, it’s said that the Taiji diagram was drawn by Chen Tuan of the Song Dynasty, but because the diagram is so simple, we can’t rule out that someone had drawn it before Chen Tuan.”

He lay down on the tarp and drew a yin-yang double fish symbol. His hand wasn’t steady, making the outer circle shaky, resembling a flattened egg.

“The Taiji diagram has a cyclical, end-to-end meaning. The entire diagram rotates in reverse. Some say the Taiji diagram is a macrocosmic thought pattern of the universe, reflecting the laws of celestial movement and the development of all things, encompassing space and time, including everything—in short, it can be applied to anything.”

Yan Hongshu wanted to laugh, but Shen Gun was so serious that she dared not. How could such a simple diagram encompass everything?

Shen Gun stared at the diagram: “The text on the wooden panel is said to be written by Laozi. He was talking about humans. He said, humans are the Taiji.”

Luo Ren laughed, understanding now why Cao Yanhua had just said, “Why does the person look like a pancake?” This pancake must be the Taiji diagram.

“While saying this, he casually drew a picture, saying, ‘This is a human.'”

As he spoke, Shen Gun used the other end of the pen to point at the flattened egg on the tarp.

Cao Yanhua murmured, “I didn’t realize Laozi was also an abstract artist—this human looks too abstract.”

Luo Ren looked at the diagram for a long time before nodding: “It is indeed a human.”

Shen Gun was delighted: “It’s rare to find someone cultured, making communication so smooth. I knew talking to uncultured people would be too painful.”

As he spoke, he cast a disdainful glance at everyone except Luo Ren.

Luo Ren explained: “I’ve heard an interpretation before that Taiji refers to the initial form of the universe’s evolution before yin and yang were differentiated.”

“Comparing it to humans, before birth, when wrapped in amniotic fluid, one is indeed in a state similar to obscure chaos.”

“The Taiji diagram’s end-to-beginning, embracing yin while holding yang, also has the meaning of husband and wife pairing, yin and yang intertwining—all humans are born this way.”

Shen Gun breathed a sigh of relief; Luo Ren’s explanation was indeed clearer.

He picked up the thread and continued.

“Laozi went on to say that all people, any person, when first born, are… like products coming off an assembly line. The appearances may differ, but that doesn’t affect the essence—the essence is identical.”

Cao Yanhua was surprised: “Laozi knew about assembly lines back then?”

Shen Gun, abruptly interrupted, grew angry: “It’s a metaphor! I’m using a subtle metaphor, a vivid comparison! If you don’t understand, don’t speak!”

Cao Yanhua looked chagrined. Mu Dai sat cross-legged, supporting her chin with both hands, her brows continuously furrowed: “But my master told me that people’s essences are different. Some people are kind, some are evil. For example, Cheetah and—is my essence the same as hers?”

Shen Gun slapped his thigh: “That’s an excellent question! This is the key to the issue. Little Pocket, although you’re not very cultured either, you often serve to connect what comes before with what follows, like throwing a brick to attract jade. You’re truly a brick of wisdom.”

Mu Dai rolled her eyes, tempted to hit his head with a brick.

Shen Gun revealed his hand: “Laozi said in the wooden panel that the essence of a human is the human heart.”

Yan Hongshu was the first to object: “I agree with that statement, but how can the essence be identical? Are Mu Dai’s heart and Cheetah’s heart the same?”

Shen Gun nodded: “Yes, completely the same, identical. I’m referring to the foundation of the heart—identical.”

He pointed at the crooked Taiji diagram: “Laozi believed that the human heart is like a Taiji double fish. Within the heart lurk both good and evil thoughts, as if they were innate genes, equal in quantity, half and half. But they are in an obscure, unopened state.”

“In more common terms, when a newborn arrives in the world, there’s no such thing as an inherently good nature—there’s simply no cognition. But gradually…”

At this point, he specifically looked at Yan Hongshu: “Gradually, they get activated.”

A spark flashed in Yan Hongshu’s mind, as if she thought of something, but couldn’t quite grasp it.

Yi Wansan blurted out: “The word ‘activate’ is quite vivid.”

Shen Gun continued: “The degree of activation is hard to say. Which side is activated more depends on each person’s constitution, family, influences, education level, moral standards, sense of reverence, and so on—even the kindest person has evil thoughts, and the most heinous person may not have completely lost their humanity. The final appearance depends on whether the east wind overcomes the west wind, or the west wind overcomes the east wind.”

Luo Ren nodded: “Some people kidnap, others rescue; some commit crimes, others arrest; some destroy, others build. Outside oil companies, environmental protesters demonstrate year-round. Those who are crazy about fur include those who profit, those who wear, and those who protect animals. But things can’t be completely black and white—evil people can instantly become Buddhas, and good people can falter with a single thought.”

Toward the end, he laughed softly: “Sometimes when you think about it, this world is truly magnificent to the point of absurdity.”

Mu Dai hesitantly said: “So, the malevolent bamboo slips are…”

Luo Ren lowered his head to look at the wooden panel in his hand: “The last sentence says that this layer’s mechanism is the ‘simple words,’ and the ‘simple words’ are the key to the Seven Stars Killing Formation.”

Yan Hongshu stared blankly at the two recessed marks at the bottom of the box: “Simple words… The sixth one doesn’t have simple words, but the other five do…”

She counted on her fingers: “Knife, water, hanging, mouth, earth—five of them.”

Luo Ren shook his head: “No, if I’m not mistaken, those earlier ‘simple words’ were just appearances. After the sixth malevolent slip was captured, all the ‘simple words’ disappeared—perhaps making way for the most core ‘simple words.'”

“What is it?”

Yi Wansan took the wooden panel from Luo Ren’s hand, used his phone to take a clear picture of the surface, then cleared a space around him and detached the movable type blocks one by one, arranging them neatly according to the original pattern. Then he picked up two from the middle.

Human heart.

Amid all the tumult, life and death struggles, knife and water and earth, verbal condemnations and executions—these are all appearances, all tools. What lurks behind, pushing the waves forward, are always these two words: human heart.