So it truly was on them all along.

Strangely, they didn’t panic too much, instead exhaling long sighs of relief. When a sword has been hanging over your head for too long, it’s almost better for it to just fall. A little blood doesn’t matter if it brings peace of mind.

But how could they extract this seventh slip? Blood from the five of them wouldn’t work now. What about near-death? It had worked on Pin Ting before, but would it work this time?

Shen Gun was quite troubled: “This is different from Pin Ting’s case. Your ‘near-death’ might pull you back—isn’t Little Carrot proof of that?”

This meant that unless they truly died, pretending or temporarily losing breath and heartbeat wouldn’t fool it anymore.

Cao Yanhua suddenly had a thought: “Even if we die, wouldn’t the power of the ominous slip revive us?”

Luo Ren shook his head: “That’s unlikely. Before, we were only in dangerous conditions, not truly dead. ‘Return to life’ is probably the ominous slip’s strongest ability, but now it’s divided into five parts, with its power dispersed.”

A dramatic turn, an absurd situation: all seven ominous slips were suddenly complete, the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps to seal them were right at hand. To break this deadlock required death; nothing less could force out the seventh slip. Everything was in place, with all forces pushing them toward the altar of sacrifice.

Cao Yanhua gritted his teeth, the words “damn it, I quit” stuck in his throat, needing to be said but impossible to utter.

If it were just working for someone, it would be different. When encountering a troublesome boss, one could quit and never be seen in those circles again.

The ominous slips were different. Whether you participated or not, they remained close by. Like a shadow that couldn’t be cut away in sunlight—you might be immune, but everyone around you was at high risk. Who knew when it might take a sudden interest in someone else nearby?

Yi Wansan remained relatively calm. Perhaps the previous night’s drunkenness had already consumed most of his accumulated frustration and resentment. A good start leads to a weak finish, and he now felt quite weak.

Directly across on the coffee table lay the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps—golden, exquisite, solemn, each phoenix and simurgh carved with an inviolable dignity.

Yi Wansan truly wondered: what use were these Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps? They only told stories, gave ambiguous hints, plus that initial “foot-cutting”?

He wanted to ask Laozi: Weren’t you supposed to be a great sage appearing only once in thousands of years? Is this troublesome method all you left for future generations?

On second thought, perhaps in the eyes of the ancients, success is built on countless sacrifices. The lives of just five people, in exchange for the ominous slips being sealed for hundreds of years, might seem like a rather good deal.

Cao Yanhua forced out the words: “Little Luo, I don’t want to die.”

Luo Ren answered: “Who wants to? Who said we have to die?”

Cao Yanhua smiled bitterly. Luo Ren’s words couldn’t inspire him anymore.

Death was certainly bad, but living also seemed to offer little hope. Such dejection couldn’t be washed away by even the strongest alcohol.

When ending the call, Shen Gun comforted them: “Don’t be too discouraged. We might still find a solution. We still have seven days.”

Yan Hongsha murmured: “Seven days. What can be done in seven days?”

Shen Gun replied: “Not necessarily. In Genesis, God created the world in just seven days.”

Haha, God. Who could compare themselves to God?

Yesterday, they still had the energy to get drunk; today, they didn’t even feel like going downstairs.

Dinner was delivered by the hotel—simple hand-pulled noodles with baby bok choy, eggs, and wood ear mushrooms. It was an ordinary meal, but Cao Yanhua stared at it for a long time as if it were precious, feeling that the vegetables were brilliantly green, the soft-boiled eggs perfectly plump, each noodle strand elastic, and even the steam rising from the broth had a sense of warmth.

Perhaps it was because their remaining meals could be counted on fingers—he had never before found noodles so fragrant. He lowered his head and began slurping vigorously.

Yan Hongsha picked up a noodle with her chopsticks. It was very long, and she held it high, but the noodle still didn’t end—like the longevity noodles she had eaten before. Her grandfather, Old Man Yan, used to say such noodles represented boundless fortune and longevity.

This time next year, who knew where they would be, or if they would still be around at all.

Just as she was thinking this, there was a clatter beside her. Yi Wansan had pushed away his bowl and chopsticks, saying, “I can’t eat anymore.”

…

That night, everyone went to bed early, yet none could truly sleep.

Yan Hongsha wrapped herself tightly in her blanket, with only her nose and above exposed, staring wide-eyed at the pitch-black ceiling. She said, “Mu Dai, I want to go home.”

“I dreamed of my grandfather a few days ago. He was still drinking his chicken liver and chrysanthemum eye-brightening soup. I had a rope tied around my waist as I descended into a well, with bells on the rope jingling. There were many gemstones at the bottom of the well—cat’s eye stones that seemed to blink, along with amber, star sands…”

She clicked her tongue: “In the dream, I felt so blessed.”

Mu Dai reached out from under her blanket and patted her head, saying, “Little girl, go to sleep now.”

“Mu Dai, do you think we still have hope?”

“Of course. We still have seven days.”

What kind of answer was that? Yan Hongsha felt dejected, turned over, and said, “I don’t like the number ‘7’.”

Mu Dai smiled slightly. As she closed her eyes, her ears suddenly caught the faint sound of a door closing.

Due to her martial arts training, her hearing was better than most people’s. She clearly distinguished the electronic “beep”—it wasn’t an interior door; someone had gone out.

Luo Ren was sleeping in the living room. Was it he who had left?

Mu Dai hesitated for a moment, then threw back her blanket and got out of bed. In the living room, the sofa was indeed empty. She walked quickly to open the room door. The corridor was empty, with no one in sight either way.

She closed the door behind her and ran to the elevator. The elevator display showed it was on their floor, so it hadn’t gone down.

Where had he gone? Mu Dai walked to the stairwell at the end of the corridor, tilting her ear downward to listen for movement in the stairway.

He hadn’t gone down. This was a high floor, and if Luo Ren had gone downstairs, it would have taken considerable time, and his footsteps should still be audible. But as she listened, there was complete silence below.

So he must have… gone up?

Mu Dai held the stair railing and climbed up one step at a time.

After climbing two floors and turning a corner, she reached the final floor. At the end, the door to the rooftop was wide open. Stepping over the threshold, the wind suddenly picked up.

The hotel-provided slippers had very thin soles. At night, the chill from the rooftop surface felt like hands tickling the soles of her feet. Mu Dai took a few steps, but there was no one on the rooftop.

For some reason, she suddenly looked up.

On top of the huge water tank sat a dark figure smoking, the crimson cigarette tip brightening then dimming. Against the black background, white smoke could be seen rising.

Mu Dai looked up and called to him: “Little Knife Luo.”

Luo Ren looked down, waving his hand, seemingly beckoning her to come up.

The iron ladder beside the water tank was loose, with a strong smell of rust. Each step made the ladder sway, hitting the tank wall and producing a dull sound. When she was still some distance away, Luo Ren leaned over and grabbed her arm. Mu Dai used this leverage to climb up, settling into his embrace.

Luo Ren said, “You’re light.”

Then added: “And you’re cold too, wearing so little.”

He held his cigarette with one hand and pulled her closer with the other, touching her cold feet. He directly removed her slippers, gripped her ankles, and placed her feet on his legs, pulling his jacket over to cover them.

Fortunately, girls are slender. He smiled: “I should wear one of those long coats. With one on, I could fit you inside.”

As he spoke, cigarette smoke drifted by Mu Dai’s ear, bringing a slight warmth.

Mu Dai asked softly: “I thought you didn’t like smoking?”

Luo Ren asked in return: “Want to try?”

He held the cigarette to her lips. Mu Dai took a puff; the filter was slightly damp and carried his scent. Luo Ren suddenly realized and said, “I shouldn’t be corrupting you.”

With a flick of his finger, he sent the cigarette flying away. The dark red glow traced an arc through the air before disappearing at the edge of the roof.

Mu Dai said, “If ants below see the cigarette’s glow, they might think it’s a star.”

The hotel was the tallest building in Tong County, and the water tank was even higher, providing an unobstructed view. All buildings and mountains lay below them. Above was the inky blue sky—reach out to touch it, and the stars seemed to kiss your fingertips in the strong wind.

Mu Dai said: “If there are immortals in the sky, perhaps these stars are all cigarette butts they tossed when feeling irritable.”

Luo Ren laughed, affectionately resting his chin on her forehead: “You just can’t appreciate stars properly, can you?”

If he remembered correctly, last time she had said that what hung in the sky were all star skeletons, and all starlight was phosphorescent fire.

Mu Dai also laughed, saying, “On a date, of course, we look at each other. Why look at stars? They’re tens of thousands of miles away. Who knows what kind of planets they are? Those planets might be smoky and chaotic with aliens running around—how can you find that romantic?”

Perhaps the brightest stars were the worst cigarette butts.

Luo Ren teased her: “You always say strange things. When you’re old, you’ll be an eccentric little old lady.”

“Will we live peacefully to that age?”

The wind grew stronger, tousling her hair. Luo Ren helped smooth it out but remained silent for a long time. Finally, he said: “I’m trying to find a solution.”

He truly was seeking a solution. If he had given up in despair, he wouldn’t be sitting in such a place, lighting cigarettes on such a night.

Shen Gun had said that if they compared this to war, the ominous slips had employed new tactics in this round.

War was familiar to him. As a mercenary in training, he had even taken a course called “The Art of War.” The instructor repeatedly emphasized that “warfare is the way of deception.” Afterwards, in countless actual combat situations, he assessed conditions and determined where to flank, where to surround, where to launch surprise attacks, where to coordinate internal and external forces—all of which became as natural to him as eating and dressing.

That night, sitting at the highest point in Tong County, he had been constantly thinking: finding a way out of a desperate situation is most appropriate and urgent when there seems to be no path. In this battle, where could they break through?

How could they extract the seventh ominous slip? How could they avoid death?

Mu Dai reached out and touched his brow, which was furrowed with worry.

She said, “Little Knife Luo, can I tell you something?”

“After the incident with Lian Shu, when I had the car accident, Zhang Shu noticed something was wrong with me. He quickly contacted Hong Yi and sent me to Dr. He.”

There, she had talked with Dr. He for a long time.

Dr. He suggested she learn self-hypnosis, not focusing on external distractions, but occasionally turning “inward” to understand herself and the other two personalities that had once dominated her body.

How to cure multiple personalities? There was no definitive answer, with various theories. The supposedly most effective method was to “kill” the secondary personalities one by one, allowing them to withdraw on their own.

To put it simply, it was like numerous princes vying for the throne—the strongest would eliminate all opponents and claim supreme rulership.

There was another method. In Dr. He’s words, it was to become so overwhelmingly dominant that no one would dare to harbor thoughts of contention, instead naturally submitting and serving.

Mu Dai had chosen the second method because they were all “herself.” Even a virtual, bloodless “killing” was emotionally difficult to accept.

During the cheetah incident, sacrificing Little Pocket had been unavoidable, but she had also felt somewhat relieved.

Still, it wasn’t easy. Mu Dai No. 2’s character was cold to the point of being heartless and rigid, existing almost solely for strength. How could she become even stronger than that?

Sometimes, Mu Dai had thought, perhaps coexistence wasn’t so bad.

But strangely, when she later performed self-hypnosis—sometimes alone in a room, before sleep, whenever she wasn’t disturbed—each time she saw Mu Dai No. 2, she felt the other self growing increasingly weaker.

Luo Ren was curious: “You can see her?”

“Yes, like a special conference room with three chairs and three identical faces at the beginning. Later, Little Pocket left, her chair was removed, and only two remained.”

That was her inner world, a secret conference room where they communicated and observed each other.

Luo Ren asked her: “Why did Mu Dai No. 2 grow increasingly weaker?”

At first, Mu Dai had also found it strange. Her own temperament had actually become gentler—initially, she had little patience with people like Yi Wansan or Cao Yanhua, often getting angry and taking action. But now, she rarely became angry, growing calmer and more composed.

“I later realized that true strength may not be rigidity. Fighting until bloodied, winning battle after battle—that’s not strength.”

Luo Ren smiled: “True. In the art of war, it’s said that the supreme excellence is to subdue the enemy without fighting. The lowest form is to attack cities. When things escalate to verbal and physical confrontation, it’s neither smart nor strong—at most it’s just brute force.”

“So, Little Knife Luo, don’t confront the ominous slips forcefully.”

Luo Ren paused, suddenly feeling her words carried deeper meaning: “What do you mean?”

“We all hate the ominous slips too much now, always thinking about how to destroy the seventh one, how to seal it—it’s like we’re already rolling up our sleeves for a fight, face to face, nose to nose, unable to see other solutions.”

“Shouldn’t you stand back a bit, put aside your forceful approach, and try a more harmonious method? It wants to kill us, we want to kill it—our focus is fixed on death, blinding us to other paths.”

A harmonious method? Luo Ren’s mind stirred.

Some deadlocks require breaking something to establish something new. Wasn’t Shen Gun’s “conjecture” based on destroying a fundamental premise they had firmly believed in?

He needed to break something—certain established cognitions, certain assumptions.

Standing back, a harmonious approach, setting aside forceful intent, not fixating solely on death, each phrase rapidly circulated in his mind.

Mu Dai continued earnestly: “Fatty Cao and the others are so dejected, but I’m not. I believe there are no true deadlocks in this world; everything has a solution. When all paths seem blocked, the road ahead may be gone, but looking up we can fly, looking down we can dig tunnels—it just depends on whether we can think of it.”

“Little Knife Luo, don’t worry. We still have seven days. We might find a solution soon.”

When she finished, Luo Ren didn’t respond. As she was about to look up at him, he suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around her and said softly: “Don’t move. I think… I’m about to realize something.”

Early the next morning, Yan Hongsha was awakened by the room phone ringing. Surprisingly, it was Luo Ren calling, telling her to get ready quickly and go to the private dining room in the restaurant.

After hanging up, Yan Hongsha was puzzled. As she got out of bed, she heard the phone ringing in the opposite bedroom—Yi Wansan and the others had probably received calls too.

After washing up, the three went downstairs together. On the way, Cao Yanhua commented that it was just breakfast, wondering why they needed a “private room.” Was this to be their last meal?

With that remark, Yan Hongsha and Yi Wansan both felt uneasy. Upon reaching the room, they became even more nervous. The room was decorated magnificently, with a large floor-to-ceiling window through which sunlight flooded in.

Arrangements had been made with the kitchen. Breakfast was already on the table—both Chinese and Western options filling the entire table, as lavish as a formal dinner.

The waiter closed the door as he left. Luo Ren instructed Mu Dai: “Latch the door.”

To prevent disturbances? Yi Wansan suddenly recalled the vision they had seen at Fengzi Ridge: Plum Blossom Zhao and his group of five had also been eating, and one sickly-looking man had specifically latched the door to prevent interruptions.

Were they about to be given a mobilization speech about sacrificing themselves?

Luo Ren said, “Let’s talk while we eat.”

Yi Wansan refused: “You talk first.”

That was fine. Luo Ren didn’t insist: “Last night after you all went to sleep, Mu Dai and I talked about sacrifice.”

So they were indeed discussing sacrifice. Yi Wansan felt tense.

“Tell me, if I truly committed suicide, what exactly would I be sacrificing to the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps?”

Yi Wansan remained silent, but Yan Hongsha answered: “Your life, of course. Didn’t they say the sacrifice must be the most precious thing?”

“Why is life most precious?”

How should she answer that? Yan Hongsha was puzzled: “Isn’t it obvious? Without life, you have nothing.”

“Yes, you value your life because it represents many things: life experiences, love, friendship, family, children, countless possibilities.”

“If you die, what you sacrifice to the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps are all these things. And not just these, but also blood and a body that will decay—this is the power the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps want to take from us.”

That seemed about right. Yan Hongsha thought for a moment and nodded.

Luo Ren smiled: “Then I’ll give it all.”

After a brief silence, Cao Yanhua became anxious: “Little Luo, didn’t we agree not to die?”

Luo Ren said, “Don’t rush.”

“What I’m giving is far more than what it wants. I’m giving it a living life, warm blood, a beating heart, and a life as long as possible. In this life, while alive, I have a brain, vigor, strength, friends, and endless energy. Aren’t these worth more than a pile of rotting flesh and bones after death?”

What… what did he mean? Cao Yanhua’s mouth half-opened as he pondered the unusual implication.

Yi Wansan’s eyes, however, brightened.

Luo Ren laughed loudly and casually tossed something onto the table with a clang, just like Plum Blossom Zhao in the vision—the cloth-wrapped wooden slips and golden Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps.

“I’ve always felt that these Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps, compared to the ominous slips, were too useless. Then, looking at these things, I suddenly understood.”

He picked up a wooden slip, looked at it, and then suddenly tossed it aside as if disposing of trash.

Cao Yanhua became anxious: “Hey, hey, Little Luo! We worked hard to dig these up. Don’t break them.”

As he spoke, he quickly got up and hurriedly went to pick it up. Mu Dai watched him with a smile as she continued rolling her breakfast pancake, placing egg skins, cucumber shreds, pork floss, and bacon inside, applying some barbecue sauce, and rolling it up meticulously.

Luo Ren said, “The seven ominous slips refer to seven malevolent energies, not these seven pieces of wood. Similarly, the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps don’t refer to these pieces of scrap metal.”

Cao Yanhua had just picked up the wooden slip when there was another clang—one of the simurgh clasps had been tossed down.

How could he call them scrap metal? These were cultural relics thousands of years old, being tossed around like balls. It truly pained him.

Yi Wansan stared at Luo Ren: “Then what do the real Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps refer to?”

Luo Ren raised his head, looking at each face one by one, his gaze meeting theirs as he smiled slightly: “Us.”

“These are just representations. We are the true Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps.”

“Sacrificing to the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps, like malevolent energies attaching to the ominous slips, is merely transferring power to these bronze artifacts. Though it works the same way, don’t you feel reluctant? Don’t you think it’s unnecessary?”

Cao Yanhua, who had been busy wiping the simurgh clasp, froze. Yan Hongsha clutched the napkin in front of her, her hands trembling slightly. Only Mu Dai ate steadily, occasionally squinting at the sunlight as if to say: The weather is nice today.

Yi Wansan’s lips felt dry. His Adam’s apple bobbed several times before he asked: “So, how do we finally seal the ominous slips?”

Luo Ren looked at him and said, “It’s simple.”

“We let the seven ominous slips possess us. We, the five of us, living, will seal the ominous slips, becoming breathing, speaking, long-lived Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps.”