That evening, the atmosphere was so tense it truly felt like the eve of battle.

Luo Ren used online satellite maps to roughly outline the aerial topography of Fengzi Ridge. Shaped like a giant Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasp, it wasn’t certain whether this terrain subtly carried sealing power, but since they were making their final stand here, it was natural to follow certain ancient principles, such as axial symmetry and square regularity. They finally selected the central area of Fengzi Ridge, also called the “Ridge Eye.”

He taught Shen Gun how to use the stun gun: “We chose that place for another reason. If the worst happens and we can’t contain the ominous slips within us and turn malevolent, staying in a remote location is safer than being among crowds—you’ll need to make a decision: stun us and tie us up, or… clean up.”

Cao Yanhua, overhearing the words “clean up,” felt his heart sink heavily in his chest. He pulled Yi Wansan aside and asked, “Is this necessary, Brother San? Is ‘cleaning up’ necessary?”

Yi Wansan fell silent for a moment, then said, “It sounds strange to me too, but Luo Ren is being thorough. If things go badly, five people with seven ominous slips—who knows what we might become? Like they say, hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

What might they become? For an instant, disturbing images flashed through Cao Yanhua’s mind: the white-haired woman crawling on all fours with cinnabar-colored amber covering her throat in Four Villages Mountain, and Xiang Silan’s deformed chest, with exposed ribs guarding a visible, beating heart.

Shen Gun didn’t want to learn: “Let’s not do this. How could I use weapons against my friends?”

Luo Ren replied: “Who knows if we’ll still be friends then?”

Just like Luo Wenmiao years ago, who, after a certain point, still walked, breathed, dressed, and slept, but was no longer his uncle.

They set out early the next morning. The weather was poor, with drizzle in the mist. While checking out of the hotel, Luo Ren overheard front desk staff chatting about how the north cooled quickly, after the start of autumn, each rain brought more chill, and there might even be snow on the highest peaks.

That snow would cover the mountains, starting as small as the pom-poms on knitted hats, then growing into small triangular cones, extending downward with winter’s progression. At the coldest time, it would blanket the mountains, and by the time all the snow melted, a year would have quietly passed.

On the way, Luo Ren stopped at a fireworks shop, buying several strings of firecrackers. Perhaps due to slow business in the off-season, the shopkeeper was extremely enthusiastic about having a customer and threw in a bunch of small fireworks. Cao Yanhua thought they were for setting off firecrackers to wish for smooth proceedings, but Luo Ren handed them directly to Shen Gun: “Yi Wansan mentioned there are wolves in the depths of Fengzi Ridge. I doubt there are packs, probably just lone wolves in groups of two or three. If you have to leave the ridge alone and encounter wolves, light a couple of strings. Wolves fear…”

Shen Gun continued: “Wolves fear firecrackers, I understand that. I used to go to remote areas often. My friend taught me that firecrackers are the most convenient solution. Also, dogs fear bending down, and wolves fear crouching. If you crouch, they think you’re about to shoot and might run away.”

Luo Ren smiled: “Your friend is knowledgeable.”

Shen Gun beamed like a flower, happier to hear his friend praised than himself, saying: “Indeed.”

As the car approached Fengzi Ridge, they stopped as usual at Old Nine Ding’s place. Old Nine Ding showed good business sense this time, immediately having his wife bring out a large military tarpaulin, arranging to cover the car.

When paying, Luo Ren remarked: “Your service is quite thorough.”

Old Nine Ding replied: “Of course. I see this as an opportunity. When peak season comes and more self-driving tourists arrive, I won’t lead tours anymore. I’ll set up parking spaces at my entrance, specializing in watching cars and charging for cleaning them. People who can afford cars aren’t stingy. It’s easy money.”

As he spoke, he curiously eyed the box that Yi Wansan and Cao Yanhua were unloading from the trunk.

These people, making trip after trip into the mountains, carrying increasingly more equipment, could they be… digging for something?

A thought struck him, seeing an opportunity to extract more money: “Let me tell you, things in the mountains belong to the country. You can’t just dig them up—business is business, but if you break the law, I’d have to report it.”

He thought Luo Ren was generous and figured he could get some more hush money.

Luo Ren smiled, suddenly putting an arm around his shoulder, forcibly pulling him aside, and lowering his voice: “Actually, we’re looking for that dog from years ago. You know, we dug under that tree, but found nothing. It might have crawled out from underground.”

Old Nine Ding was so terrified that his legs trembled. Luo Ren laughed heartily, pushing him away: “Take good care of my car. If there’s even a scratch, you’ll answer to me.”

They hiked, trekked, and the men took turns carrying the box, constantly calculating positions and step distances using the positioning device and previous terrain maps. The path wasn’t difficult, just increasingly high, and with height came cold.

Light rain drifted in the gloomy mist. Yan Hongsha commented: “I wonder if the Ridge Eye is at the highest point. I had thought Fengzi Ridge encircled a valley—if we’re climbing higher, this terrain does resemble the Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps sealing the ominous slips.”

Yi Wansan added: “The more it resembles it, the better. In the past, weren’t there feng shui masters who specialized in selecting auspicious sites? Perhaps landforms have their spirit—the more resemblance, the more efficacious.”

Around four in the afternoon, they finally reached their position.

The “Ridge Eye” was also high up, but not a steep peak—more like a huge elevated platform, slightly lower in position. Standing on the platform and looking up, one could see the “ridge heads” on three sides, huge and strangely shaped. They didn’t particularly resemble phoenixes, perhaps because they were too close, as the saying goes: “One can’t see the true face of the mountain while standing on it.”

Mu Dai murmured: “If only we had one of Lu Ban’s wooden kites. We could ride it and fly around to see what the mountaintops look like.”

They set up camp first, backing against a huge rock for wind protection. As darkness fell, the temperature dropped at a rate perceptible to the skin. Fortunately, they were prepared, having brought extra thick clothes to put on, zipping them up and buttoning them to the top.

Luo Ren couldn’t break his habit—once camping, he had to define boundaries. He hammered two rivets into the nearby mountain wall, ran rope around the rock, connecting each end to a rivet, creating a triangular area. Mu Dai helped him, her hands growing stiff in the mountain wind, requiring frequent rubbing and warming with her breath.

During her final breath-warming, Luo Ren finished his work and cupped her hands in his palms. Looking up at the sky, he said: “If it snows in Tong County, the first snowflakes will probably fall on Fengzi Ridge. These phoenixes will be the first to have white heads.”

“When we’re old with white hair, we’ll come back again. White-headed phoenixes, white-haired couple, celebrating our golden wedding anniversary.”

Mu Dai smiled, saying, “Don’t talk about getting old.”

As she spoke, the wind picked up, and droplets of rain skimmed her nose, leaving a trail of moisture. Luo Ren was smiling. His age was just right—still young in appearance, but with deep eyes, his temperament gradually becoming steadier, no longer rash and impulsive. He was beginning to understand that life isn’t as easy as passing like the wind; it’s like swimming, immersed in it. To move forward isn’t simply a matter of lifting your foot and running; you must reach out, kick, inhale, exhale, stroke by stroke.

How could she imagine him when he’s old? Standing opposite her as he did now, with white hair, holding her no-longer-soft and wrinkled hands, smiling with deep creases at the corners of his eyes, like countless rings of an ancient tree.

Mu Dai’s eyes suddenly moistened. Just a second ago, she was shaking her head saying “don’t talk about getting old,” but now she suddenly felt that being able to grow old together would be a blessing from heaven. How many young couples are separated midway? How many can tremblingly gaze at each other with smiles into old age?

She nodded vigorously: “We’ll come back when we’re old.”

The camping lights turned on with a series of pops, their bright beams illuminating the rain in exquisite detail. The campfire was lit, its flames licking at the falling raindrops, producing small white puffs of smoke with a hiss. Cao Yanhua called to them: “Little Luo, Little Master, we’re opening the box!”

The box was opened, revealing a rectangular fish tank half-filled with water. The blood-colored Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps had faded to a barely visible vermilion. The six unmarked ominous slips stood like solemn monuments.

The fire crackled, but the air felt thin, making it hard to breathe. Cao Yanhua thought it might be due to the high altitude—they should have brought oxygen tanks.

Luo Ren rolled up the sleeve of his right arm, exposing his muscular forearm, and said, “I’ll go first.”

After a pause and a deep breath, he submerged his entire arm in the water.

They had never tried this before. Previously, they had kept their distance from the ominous slips, daring only to touch the water’s surface with fingertips, even when viewing the water shadows.

Yan Hongsha cried out: “It’s avoiding him!”

Indeed, it was avoiding him, not dramatically, but with a slight tremor, spontaneously maintaining distance from Luo Ren’s arm. Luo Ren had a thought and reached out to grab it, but each time he nearly made contact, the ominous slip darted away like a fish, quickly evading him.

It was unwilling to possess him. Luo Ren frowned and withdrew his arm, the water-soaked skin turning ice-cold in the wind.

It was both bad and good news. Though their plan was disrupted, it also indicated that the ominous slips were wary of them. Wariness was good; what they feared was recklessness.

What should they do?

Yi Wansan spoke up: “Luo Ren, you might not have noticed, but I could see clearly from the side. It’s not just avoiding you; it’s also avoiding the blood-colored Phoenix, Firebird, and Simurgh clasps.”

So what?

Yi Wansan continued: “Weren’t you all talking about military strategy and warfare? This is like an encirclement. The ominous slip is struggling inside. What if we shrink the encirclement, leaving it nowhere to escape?”

That made sense, but even with nowhere to escape, it might still refuse to possess them.

Mu Dai had been staring at the ominous slips: “Little Knife Luo, the ominous slips are just malevolent energy without physical form or weight. We can see them only because our blood has entered them, making them visible, right?”

Luo Ren looked at her: “Right.”

He paid special attention to Mu Dai’s ideas. Often, she might not provide the final steps, but she usually pointed in the right direction.

“It fears water, but only temporarily. We’ve been able to seal it because our blood has entered it, correct?”

That’s right. In the very beginning, not knowing how to contain the ominous slips, he had wishfully used water, wooden boxes, desperately gathered the so-called five elements of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth, and even had gold rice paper inscribed with Laozi’s “Dao De Jing.” But then one day, he suddenly discovered Pin Ting stringing up threads in her room—the ominous slip had returned to her.

She said, “Let’s drain the water. As it drains out, the liquid remaining in the fish tank will decrease. If only a shallow layer remains at the bottom, and we reach in, it won’t be able to keep dodging.”

Yi Wansan frowned: “But even if it can’t dodge, it still might not possess us.”

Luo Ren’s palm slowly clenched. He had an intuition that Yi Wansan’s point was valid, but Mu Dai’s thinking led to the correct path.

After a moment, he abruptly stood up and retrieved the first aid kit from his backpack. Inside was a pouch containing a series of thin syringe tubes.

He said, “I have an idea.”

“When catching fish, it’s difficult to catch them by hand alone, but using a net greatly increases efficiency.”

“Using thin cloth or clothing, we can make a simple net to quickly scoop out both the blood-colored clasps and the ominous slips. With the blood-colored clasps present, it can’t escape—at least not for three to five minutes.”

“We’ll scoop it into a small container, then add our blood.”

Yi Wansan realized: “Then use syringes to draw blood from the container? After drawing it all out, inject it back into us?”

Luo Ren nodded: “Yes. It doesn’t want to possess us? Blood injection counts as possession, too, doesn’t it?”

Cao Yanhua drew in a sharp breath. Could possession work this way?

But on second thought, this was indeed a form of possession—simple, brutal, direct, blood to blood.

Except for one thing—

“Little Luo, will we use all five people’s blood? Don’t we have different blood types? Don’t blood transfusions require matching blood types?”

“Yes, foreign blood entering the bloodstream can cause coagulation and embolism. A large amount could be fatal, but if the quantity is very small, the body’s fibrinolytic system will take effect…”

Shen Gun suddenly interjected: “Who cares about blood types now? If we’re being strict, your blood in water shouldn’t have formed any ‘blood-colored clasps’ in the first place! If you’re worried about transfusion problems, just drink it! Drinking it into your stomach is still possession!”

Drink it?

Mouth full of blood—isn’t that too uncivilized? Before Cao Yanhua could speak, Yan Hongsha pragmatically said: “Drinking isn’t good. It can be vomited up or passed out. That doesn’t seem like real possession.”

Luo Ren was both annoyed and amused. After a pause, he said: “Let’s stick with injection. I’ll try first, then give it to you all.”

As planned, they made a net, scooped up the contents, poured them into an improvised plastic cup, and then Luo Ren took charge of drawing blood. He selected small blood vessels in each person’s arm, made quick incisions, allowed an appropriate amount of blood to drip in, then pressed cotton balls against the wounds and applied tape.

It was truly puzzling what this malevolent energy was—formless, weightless. One syringe was barely filled, holding a dark red liquid. Were all six ominous slips crammed inside? The thought seemed almost stifling.

Luo Ren injected himself first. The plan was for each person to receive one-fifth, but he pressed down a bit more for himself.

By taking more for himself, the others would get less. If there were a rejection or complication, they would suffer less.

Next came Mu Dai, then Hongsha, Yi Wansan, and finally Cao Yanhua.

At the final moment, Cao Yanhua suddenly felt inexplicably anxious, wanting to back out but feeling too embarrassed. His lips quivered a few times before he shouted at Shen Gun: “Mr. Shen, if I don’t come back, release Jiefang! Don’t eat him!”

He wasn’t that worried about Cao Jiefang, but he felt the need to shout something to relieve the pressure.

Luo Ren heard him and smiled slightly, pushing the syringe plunger down.

That was it—forced into a corner, too late for regrets.

Each person looked at the others. Finding themselves suddenly in the same abyss made them feel psychologically closer. Luo Ren asked softly: “How do you feel? Any discomfort?”

It was fine; there seemed to be no abnormalities, nothing unusual at all. Their eyes remained bright, their ears keen, and the smoke from wet wood burning in the fire was just as irritating to their noses.

Mu Dai asked: “Does this mean… It’s sealed?”

Was it? They hoped so, but each felt doubtful, as if they had prepared to face bandits with knives and spears, only to find the opponents armed with spoons and fruit forks.

—”Do you feel normal?”

—”I do.”

—”Not even the slightest difference?”

—”None.”

—”So it’s done?”

—”It’s done.”

From anxiety and disbelief to joy to suddenly moist eyes, Mu Dai felt at a loss, continuously looking at Luo Ren across the campfire flames. Yi Wansan pretended to be calm as he added wood to the campfire, his arms visibly trembling.

Cao Yanhua couldn’t sit still. He sprang up: “I can’t take it! I want to somersault!”

He gathered all his strength, but couldn’t do it—Mu Dai had never taught him how.

Yan Hongsha suggested: “Let’s take a photo together, a group photo. It’s quite memorable. Mr. Shen can take it for us, then we’ll take one with him, and finally one with Jiefang.”

It was a good suggestion. Memories fade, accidents happen, and any important occasion should be captured in photographs to be looked at years later, repeatedly touched, and remembered.

Yan Hongsha set her phone to camera mode and handed it to Shen Gun. He held the phone, stepping forward then back, directing them into position.

—”Little Carrot, put your arm around Little Pocket.”

—”Fatty Cao, make a ‘V’ sign. Don’t think it’s silly; you look silly anyway.”

—”Little San, lean your head toward the red scarf, a bit closer…”

Click.

The image appeared—truly… perfect.

The framing was just right, and the campfire served as excellent lighting, adding much to the nighttime scene. The postures and positions of the subjects, after his direction, perfectly complied with the golden ratio.

Shen Gun felt he had a natural talent for photography and happily switched back to camera mode: “One more, change your poses.”

In the viewfinder, no one moved.

Shen Gun grew impatient and looked up at them: “I said, change your…”

His words cut off abruptly. A chill suddenly crawled up his back. He staggered back several steps, falling into a sitting position by the erected tent, frantically grabbing the stun gun and shakily raising it.

—Let’s not do this. How could I use weapons against my friends?

—Who knows if we’ll still be friends then?

With a trembling voice, he tentatively called out: “Little… Carrot? Pocket? Fatty?”

The light rain was falling, drifting into the beam of the camping light like dense, shining needles. The campfire flickered, and occasionally, a burned-through piece of firewood would fall with a soft thud.

See, all things in the world move.

But those five people moved no more.