Sailing to the Bottom — 1
The Heavenly Demon Cult burned away to nothing.
The sudden downpour would have been more than enough to quench the flames, but by then so much of the cult's buildings had already been consumed that they could no longer bear their own weight, and they caved in. Raised atop tall pillars of natural stone, the structures collapsed in a chain the moment the first of them failed, plunging into the lake at the bottom.
And so, in a single night, the Heavenly Demon Cult became a ruin.
No one remains in these parts. No Harvesters, at least. The only ones left are two people far off to the north, lost and running — and even they are unlikely to last. They are already being hunted.
Feeling the bleak reality that not a single surviving Harvester was anywhere in sight, I looked down at my lap. The corpse before me had crumbled into white dust, less a human body than a plaster statue fallen to pieces. Given the weather, it would not have been strange for insects to gather long ago, but from the moment it turned white, whatever in it could still be called living material must already have been gone.
I sat there all day, and when the rain stopped, I rose. Nothing remained on my knees but white powder. Looking around, I found myself standing in the middle of the ruins.
I glanced about, wondering if this was truly the end, and smoke was still rising from the village to the west. Some of it was pure white, some pitch black. The place pouring out an unusual amount of black smoke was the plaza where the Heavenly Demon and Oh Myung-sung had once crossed martial arts. If something is smoking where nothing remains that ought to burn, then they are gathering things up and setting them alight. And I know the smell. The acrid stench of protein burning.
They are burning corpses.
At least I see no one still alive.
Standing amid the ruins, I considered for a moment what to do. Making Harvesters in this world looks difficult. Purple hair, and the world hauls you in without a question asked. So even the Harvesters who barely survived somewhere far to the north are being caught and killed, one by one. I have purple hair too.
I touched the treasure I had been carrying since yesterday. A weapon called the Moxie Sacred Sword. I had picked up the light-blade without much thought, but as expected, I cannot use it. It must be something that runs on qi. Still, it is easy enough to carry, so I might as well take it with me. In a pinch, it might prove useful.
Thinking first of going home, I picked my way through the ruins and climbed to higher ground to find a path. The cult's main hall had been built atop the stone pillars, so every road was severed. That did not mean there was no way down at all. In the memories of several people, there is a path that descends. So I wandered the ruins, searching for a place I remembered. Most of them had collapsed along with the buildings, but an old stone stair that followed the sheer cliff downward was still there. The steps are the wrong size for my stride, but I headed for them anyway. If I fall to the bottom like this, I can simply regenerate.
Following the stairs, winding round and round the rock pillar, I barely reached the ground. The floor had gone hazy with fragments of buildings fallen from above, and beneath the water's surface an unusual amount of light had gathered. A great many living things must be throwing a party. I closed my eyes to whatever they might be eating and headed for the house where I had lived. It was not my destination, of course. Only a waypoint. No reason remains to stay there anymore.
Perhaps because so many of the fragments were wood, a great deal of it was floating on the water, and I walked from the stone pillar all the way to the cliff. Then I followed the cliff north for a long while. The wall beside me gradually dropped until a path appeared that I could walk. Climb the hill from there and head south again, and about halfway between where I stood and the collapsed buildings there is one small house, smashed to pieces.
The Sealing Needles had crushed it completely. But I saw none of them nearby. Whoever survived must have collected them. Inside, a hole gaped open, and the interior had been ransacked — someone seemed to have searched it for anything worth taking. All that remained were a tall woman's clothes and a child's clothes. Looking at it this way, there was nothing in the room worth carrying off.
Thinking tools made of metal might sell, I went into the kitchen. The kitchen was dark and still.
Dark and still?
Ah. Now that I thought of it, I could not see the fire that had always burned so brightly. Where the fire had been, the opening was packed tight with sand. I cleared the sand away, but no trace of flame remained in the stove. I do not need it anymore, anyway.
I gathered a few pieces of tableware and decided to walk north.
North, by my reckoning. The center, in the world where people live. Mount Kunlun is there, where the immortals dwell. There is warmth there. Not immortals hardly different from ordinary humans, but immortals on a level close to Daegon. There must be a great deal of warmth.
Right?
I looked once more around the kitchen, empty now of even a single warmth, and set out again toward my destination.
Go down the hill, and past a certain line the tall trees appear. Deep forest. Somewhere near here a feline beast once sank its teeth into my neck, and the memory of it toying with me remains, so I do not particularly want to come this way. But to leave, I have to cross it.
I entered the forest and walked back the way the immortals and Daoists had come. Traces they left on their way here still remain in every corner. I wish I could run as fast as a martial artist of the murim, but even if I run until my heart feels ready to burst, I am not that fast. So I walk without stopping. Keep walking steadily, and someday I will arrive.
Unlike when Soo pointed out how quiet the forest was, the forest now is noisy with the cries of every kind of animal. Which means, at least, that there is no great threat for the moment. I never once thought I would end up walking a deep forest like this alone, without another soul.
Three years from now.
I walk a road the three of us might have walked together. A forest in which the only sound is what you could call white noise. Following the traces left by a great many people on the move, it is not all that hard. At least I do not have to walk where there is no path at all.
After I had walked for a long while, I happened to look far off. A direction slightly east of north. The last Harvester had been killed. They died fighting, shouting the name of the Heavenly Demon Cult at the top of their lungs.
At least within what I know, no one is left alive. There is one person who might still be living, but I do not think that person would have fled and abandoned the one they love. If they did flee, there is a good chance they will not be caught. Because she is not a Harvester — her hair is black, and according to Oh Myung-sung's memories, she once lived on the outside while hiding who she was. So the skill, at least, she has in full. Whether she has the will is another matter.
I walk for a long time, and when I grow hungry I pick edible plants nearby and eat them. Fortunately the immortals and Daoists seem to favor a mostly vegetarian diet, so I know the edible plants of this world in detail. Memories taken from the murdered have gaps here and there, but if I cut out just those parts and cross-check them, information comes easily. So I eat what I can manage, and when the sun sets I curl up and let the flesh rest. My mind does not sleep, but the body needs rest.
A day passed that way, then two, and around the time three had gone by, the dense primeval forest finally ended and a village where people live appeared. Which meant walking would be much easier from here on. In good spirits, I stepped into the village.
The moment I did, men in white headwraps came running and leveled blades at me.
"Remnants of the Heavenly Demon Cult!"
"Purple hair! Someone fetch a Daoist master!"
"It's a huge woman. Is she dangerous?"
"The taiyang points aren't bulging. Her hands are pale, too."
They had weapons trained on me, but they did not swing. The blades were drawn, yet the man at the front gave a hand signal to those behind him and walked out ahead of me. He was shorter than I am.
"What is it?"
"Are you one of the Heavenly Demon Cult?"
"Don't you judge by the color of the hair alone?"
Was purple hair not enough to kill someone out of hand?
"We are not murderers. We came here only to deliver the wicked heretics of the Heavenly Demon Cult. Are you of the cult?"
Am I of the Heavenly Demon Cult, if he asks? Well. The contractors are gone from me now, and everyone I met in the cult is already dead.
"No."
The man looked flustered.
"That viper of a woman is obviously lying! Kill her, now!"
Someone shouted from behind. But the man wore a thoughtful expression, looked me over this way and that, and put a question to me.
"Where are you headed?"
"Mount Kunlun."
A murmur rose behind him. A Daoist? A Daoist master? From the sound of it, they were turning over what I might be. Either choice suited me, so I waited quietly.
The man who had been watching me turned, quieted the people behind him, then looked at me again and spoke.
"If that is so, wait until the Daoist master arrives. Should you be someone who has done no wrong, you may go on to Mount Kunlun together with the master."
Having said that, he glared at me and warned me in a low voice.
"If not, you will pay the price for deceiving us."
So I nodded.
"All right. Let's do that."
The people behind him especially — many of them looked startled. Perhaps because I had answered so lightly. I truly have nothing left to do with the Heavenly Demon Cult, so there is nothing for me to shrink from. My very existence is dangerous, but if they make an issue of that, I will think about it then.
Considering that whoever attacks me reaches me regardless of the weapon.
Yes.
It is not that dangerous.
Really.