He and It Chapter 228: Inquire Here (56)

Chapter 228: Inquire Here (56)

Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations

Editor: GaeaTiamat

 

It was a year of frequent rains together with a terrible drought that lasted for many days.

The war between the nations continued for years, and in that world, water became the most important resource and wealth. Powerful nations raised armies and pumped water from deep, cold underground rivers to provide for their citizens, while weaker tribes drifted like weeds in the wind as they followed rare oases and rainstorms through the desert. When their water sources ran out or they were ambushed, entire tribes quickly vanished into the vast sea of sand.

The oasis in question was vast, and held a small lake as clear as a mirror. Water plants and precious trees grew around it which made it a rare gem in the desert, and attracted four different tribes.

They silently divided the oasis. Each claimed their territory and carefully extracted its resources. They knew that such an opportunity might not come again for a hundred years.

They were right.

The oasis in the desert was like a piece of tender meat to wild animals. One evening, a child from one of the tribes told his mother that he saw a man riding a black horse in the direction of the setting sun. The man seemed to glance at him before he turned his horse around and left.

That night, a group of black-clad cavalry charged into the oasis.

There was no negotiation, no mercy. The oasis was a feast and the tribes were parasites living off it. The riders’ laughter, filled with madness, tore through the sky. They attacked mercilessly and hacked down anyone they saw. Heads rolled, and some, paralyzed by fear, crawled on all fours to escape, which spared them from the blades. Due to the poor visibility of the dim light torchlight, the riders mistook them for stray animals.

The sound of flesh and bone being separated and the screams were incessant, and the sound of hooves pounding like thunder echoed through the night. As the disaster struck, none of the four tribes dared confront the black riders. They scattered in all directions, and fled for their lives. One man, as he fell under the riders’ blades, begged for mercy, and gave away the whereabouts of another. A family was surrounded and slaughtered; despite a language barrier, they pointed toward the hiding place of another family to try and earn favor.

The dozen or so black-clad riders laughed heartily. Under the blade, everyone was equal. The four tribes, which numbered no less than five hundred people, were murdered, their young men the first targets. The blades became so dull that even the ornate patterns on their handles were filled with the bones and fat of their victims.

“Stand still!” the riders shouted at the remaining elderly, women, and children, as they signaled for them not to move. They left their horses in place and, without a word, pulled out sharpening stones from their packs, then headed to the lake to wash and sharpen their blades.

“Don’t you want to have anyone watch?” one rider asked, still breathless with excitement, his chest heaving. His mouth was full of puffs of white steam as he spoke.

“No one’s watching,” another rider replied. “They’re not human. They’re like sheep! More obedient than sheep, more worthless than sheep!”

When the riders sharpened their knives and returned, the torchlight still illuminated the scene. They could hear the sound of the horses snorting, as they munched on the grass soaked with blood.

The riders were right. The survivors from the four tribes stood motionless, their eyes devoid of life, filled with a deep, marrow-chilling fear and numbness.

The black-clad riders laughed cruelly, and raised their knives high…only for strange, gurgling sounds, like bubbles in water, to come from a rider’s throat.

The riders behind him widened their eyes in fear, and shouted in panic.

A dark, snake-like tendril, sharp as a needle, had pierced the rider’s throat, shattered his windpipe, and instantly ended his life.

The battle horses screamed in fear, and regardless of the actions of the remaining riders, they all died at the same time.

Their bodies collapsed to the ground. In the darkness, a white hand took a torch, and its light revealed the tired features of Yan Huan.

“Yan Huan, be careful,” Liu Fuguang said. “Don’t startle the horses.”

Taking the torch from his hand, Yan Huan replied in concern, “Rest for a bit, you’re tired.”

Liu Fuguang shook his head and turned to look at the survivors.

Saved from the slaughter, the elderly, women, and children showed no emotion – no gratitude, no sorrow, no relief. They stared at Yan Huan and Liu Fuguang, who clearly weren’t ordinary humans, and simply scattered.

It was as if nothing had happened. Their fathers, sons, and husbands hadn’t died under enemy blades. They lowered their yellowed faces and walked slowly, picking up discarded items from their flight, like ants returning to their nest. One by one, they made their way back to their respective tribe tents.

“See? What’s the point of saving them?” Yan Huan said maliciously as he watched them. He couldn’t act on his anger because Liu Fuguang was nearby, so he could only watch.

“There were four or five hundred of them,” he continued to mock with a half-opened eye. “If they had united, they could have torn the riders and their horses apart. But now?” He sneered. “You saved them, treated them as equals, but in their eyes, you’re nothing. Your situation is better than theirs, so they resent you a thousand times more. If you can’t suppress them, they’ll tear you apart. If you subdue them with force and slaughter them like animals, they’ll be grateful, obedient, and willing to serve you for life. Can’t you see how wicked such people are?”

Liu Fuguang didn’t look at him just sighed. “You ranted so much over saving one person. It’s clear you’ve got a lot of resentment in your heart.”

It had been over three months since they had fallen into the Mirror of the World.

The mirror truly deserved its name as a divine artifact. The moment they fell into it, Yan Huan sensed that his divine power was locked, and Liu Fuguang was in a similar state. They estimated that at their current strength they were barely near golden core stage, and nowhere near nascent soul stage.

Since their births, neither of them had ever suffered such a low cultivation base. However, being by Liu Fuguang’s side meant that hardship was sweeter than six thousand years of indulging in illusory dreams.

They spent several days investigating their surroundings and concluded that they were in the world of the drought god, before the great drought disaster occurred.

Why had the mirror brought them there?

During those three months, Liu Fuguang witnessed and personally experienced hundreds of battles, large and small. It wasn’t just high-level cultivators; even ordinary cultivators were rare. Everyone’s energy was consumed by the brutal, endless fights.

Fights for water, fights for food, strong nations fighting for slaves, weak tribes fighting for the chance to become slaves…and fights always brought war, and war was nothing but slaughter.

As they moved forward, Liu Fuguang saw countless bodies and suffered from hunger. He witnessed people eating wall clay, drinking mud soup, and children’s bellies swollen like they were pregnant. Through their thin, paper-like skin, Liu Fuguang could even see their intestines.

Cannibalism, and drinking foul, rotten blood became so commonplace that it was almost mundane. The idea of eating one’s own children was only a reality in large cities; those with walls and stationed soldiers, where residents could always afford to feed themselves and drink water. It suggested that the people in the city could still afford to raise children, and in times of hardship, they could use their children in exchange for a chance at survival.

Yan Huan adapted to that reality as if it were second nature, but Liu Fuguang struggled immensely. He forced himself to suppress the intense pain and discomfort he felt. He could only comfort himself in his mind. The scenes in the mirror were just past memories, a coincidence that had led them there. They were only there to uncover the origin of the Drought God and find a way to leave.

Late at night, they sat by the oasis lake, and watched the cold wind blow over the surface and create ripples that shifted constantly with a strong, fishy scent in the air. Yan Huan spoke slowly, “I don’t hold any grudges…What is there in life that I don’t resent? I just don’t want you to focus on these things.”

Liu Fuguang murmured, “For a cultivator, one must sever all earthly ties and distractions to ascend to immortality. The pain and joy of the mortal world are such heavy things. Once touched, one can no longer remain a pure, untainted immortal.”

He paused for a moment and continued, “The struggles of the human world are like an endless sea of suffering. To close one’s eyes, block one’s ears, and pretend not to hear or see – it’s actually quite easy. However, many times, it’s not that I won’t do it, it’s that I simply can’t. When I hear their cries, my heart aches. Even if I were to block it all out, my heart would still ache. So, it’s better to do my best. As long as I have a clear conscience, as long as I’m true to myself.”

Yan Huan almost sighed. When he was with Liu Fuguang, he found himself sighing more often than usual.

“Fuguang, why do you think this way?” Yan Huan asked, genuinely puzzled. “Belief is just attachment, and attachment breeds delusion. You’ve seen through to my true form, yet you can’t see through the lives in this illusion? How can you believe things in mirrors and shadows?”

“Because we still don’t know the true purpose of the Mirror of the World,” Liu Fuguang turned toward him. “As you said, I can see through all the illusions of the world. That’s why I know that everything recorded in the mirror truly happened. What if…and I mean, what if, it can change something?”

Yan Huan remained silent for a long time. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but finally, his voice came out hoarse.

“Fuguang, have you ever thought about why, until now, every point of good and evil we’ve encountered has been connected to time?”

Liu Fuguang froze.

Indeed, just as Yan Huan had said, all the troubles they had faced so far were inexplicably tied to time.

The Holy Ancestor trapped in the cycle of reincarnation; their need to retrieve memories from Jin Cuixu’s past to awaken the True Immortal from her internal demons’ tribulation; the dragon princess, locked away for ten thousand years, who had forgotten her lover but in the end, remembered everything in her dreams and was freed; and now, they were drawn into the Mirror of the World, and witnessing the old world before the Drought God emerged…

“…Because, in a way, they were all affected and influenced by my obsession,” Yan Huan said bitterly. “In those six thousand years, how I wished I could turn back time, fix what I once…”

Liu Fuguang’s eyes widened.

Yan Huan paused, unable to continue. After a moment, he spoke, his voice hoarse again. “That intense desire almost distorted reality, and is magnified by the endless passing of time. I’ve imagined it! Countless times, I wondered how I could return to the past, return to the time before I met you. If I could, I would give you everything – perfection, happiness, everything you deserve. I…I just want to respond to your love. I just want you to have everything you should have.”

Liu Fuguang was stunned. However, before he could speak, Yan Huan laughed sharply, though his laughter couldn’t hide his pain and made it sound more like crying.

“However, that’s impossible. I tried everything, but none of it worked. It’s impossible!” he shouted. “What I want is you. Exactly as you were, unhurt and unbroken. But no matter how I try to return to the past, I can’t make that happen…Time is like a river. It can fork, it can dry up, but it can never flow backward. Returning to the past means the future will inevitably change…You might never even be born.”

In the darkness, Yan Huan’s nine eyes flickered, like ripples on water or suppressed wildfires.

“Nothing in this world can change the past according to one’s wishes,” he said. “When I was still the only true god, even I couldn’t do it. A mere mirror, I don’t believe it has such great power.”

The silence in the air was profound, as if it had sunk to the bottom of the lake.

Liu Fuguang slowly said, “You never mentioned before how Internal Demon was born. Now, I think I understand a little.”

He turned to Yan Huan, and spoke coldly, “I understand what you mean. Ultimately, all these troubles stem from you. Whether good or evil, this power should not belong to any one person. So, I will help you and cooperate with you.”

He then asked, “Has your divine power been severely depleted?”

Yan Huan froze. He hadn’t expected him to ask that.

“It’s okay,” he lied smoothly. “I don’t feel…”

“Weak lie,” Liu Fuguang said. “I knew something was off with you. In the past, the Drought God wouldn’t have been your match.”

Yan Huan’s mouth twitched into a helpless smile.

“You’ve already said it,” he shrugged. “Yes, my divine power is severely depleted, but that was inevitable. Good and evil are always uneven, one side strong, one side weak, it’s just a cycle. It’s what I deserve.”

At that point, he was determined to shut down Liu Fuguang’s words, and Liu Fuguang, unsure of what else to say, fell silent.

The next day, they replenished their water at the lake and left the oasis without looking back.

The people hiding in the tents peeked out; watched as the two of them left behind everything, even the corpses of the war horses and soldiers. They couldn’t help but click their tongues in disbelief, as if it were a dream. Then, they rushed out to divide up the spoils of the battle left behind from the night before.

After they left the oasis, the two of them trekked through the desert for two days and nights, then finally spotted a city along the trade route frequented by caravans.

Wherever people gathered, there was always a water source. The city was rare in that it had a little greenery, though the streets were filled with beggars, and the clothing of the pedestrians was scant. Still, in the desert, it was a shelter for the living.

Liu Fuguang immediately noticed the small beggars running through the alleys and streets. In places like that, beggars were often part of thieving groups – natural liars and black-market traders, they were also key players in spreading rumors. Their bodies were small, gaunt, and whether male or female, they wore nothing but tattered cloths wrapped around their waists, like starving, scavenging, hairless rats, that were rooted in the cracks of the city and doing whatever it took to survive.

Liu Fuguang grabbed Yan Huan’s arm and they followed one of the small beggars. They watched as he hid, begged for leftover food here, asked for mud there, and occasionally, someone with a good heart would toss him a broken coin, which was the best thing that could happen in his day. By the time night fell, the small beggar returned to a crumbling house inside the city, where he met up with his companions to exchange what they had gathered that day.

Liu Fuguang cleared his throat lightly.

“Who?!” The younger beggars quickly shrank back, while the oldest among them jumped up, his hand already on a sharp knife made from a broken tile. “Who’s there? Come out!”

Liu Fuguang had no intention of causing trouble for them, so he calmly walked forward. His first words were, “I hear that you are very skilled at gathering information.”

The beggar holding the knife froze. Given his age, he was technically already a young man, but his body was so thin that he still looked like a child. He had never seen anyone wearing clothes so brilliantly white.

“You…who are you?” he asked, and gestured weakly with the weapon in his hand. “What do you want from us?”

Liu Fuguang smiled, and behind him, Yan Huan silently materialized like a dark shadow.

“We just want to ask you a few questions,” Liu Fuguang said and lifted his sleeve to reveal a soft, white cake. “In exchange, I can offer you some cake.”

The beggar’s eyes lit up, then narrowed greedily. A number of eager, frightening eyes shone from the shadows like rats scrambling for survival in the dark.

“I…” He only managed to utter a single word before the sharp acidity in his mouth caused his tongue to freeze up and left him unable to speak properly.

Without a prompt answer, the other young beggars began to chime in with excited chatter.

“Agree!”

“Say it, what do you want to know?”

“Agree, we agree!”

The older beggar’s face flushed with embarrassment. He intended to act composed, but it seemed futile. He kept swallowing, his tongue contorted in discomfort. Unconsciously, the knife in his hand lowered.

“What do you want to know?” he grumbled, his voice rough. “Just, just say it. If we can’t answer, you have to give us some of that cake…”

He hesitated, his gaze fixed greedily on the cake. He imagined the taste of it on his tongue, sized up the portion he might get. “Give us…a piece as big as from the tip of my index finger to the tip of my thumb!”

“But!” A little beggar seated at his feet quickly added, pulling her thumb from her mouth, showing Liu Fuguang that her thumb and index finger had both been cut off halfway, leaving only scarred stubs. “It can’t be from my stubbed fingers like these.”

Liu Fuguang remained silent for a moment, then softly said, “My question is simple. If you answer it, I’ll make sure all of you get as much cake as you want, until you’re full.”

The young beggars were stunned into silence. Then Liu Fuguang asked, “Do you know about the horse and camel tracks outside the city? Where did those merchants go?”

“West!” One of the beggars quickly responded, his voice cracking. “I know! The merchants were talking about a prince to the west who became a king, and opened…something, helping…something…”

“Opening the city gates, helping the poor and doing good!” A beggar beside him corrected. “You’re too dumb! That’s why the merchants left. The city couldn’t control them, but if anyone else tried to leave, they’d get whipped!”

Liu Fuguang asked, “What is the name of that city?”

“Chishui City,” the oldest beggar answered. “Strange name, but easy to remember.”

Liu Fuguang unintentionally stumbled upon the crucial information!

Yan Huan whispered, “If we’d known, we could have followed the tracks. Why waste time here?”

Liu Fuguang said, “Shut up. No more talking.”

After he scolded the dragon god, he turned back to the beggar and asked more about Chishui City. It was clear that even the beggar who heard the most rumors had little knowledge about the city. He was just making up stories for the high reward.

“Alright,” Liu Fuguang said. “That’s all my questions. I won’t go back on my word about the reward.”

With that, as if performing a magic trick, he pulled out more cakes from his sleeve, and gave them to the emaciated beggars to take. Then he placed a water jug beside them. The beggars, like starving animals, devoured the food ravenously, without even taking time to look up or express any surprise. They swallowed one, then grabbed another, as they ate with a ferocity that surpassed that of beasts.

Some of them cried as they ate, and called for their mothers; others instinctively fought each other over half a cake, and threw a few punches before they remembered there was more. Some were so focused on eating, they forgot to drink water; others drank water like it was the only thing that mattered.

Even though it was like a scene from a mirror, so surreal, it was so real that it made Liu Fuguang feel heartbroken.

In just a few minutes, one little beggar had gobbled down eight big cakes and drank water, the cakes swelling in his stomach as they absorbed the liquid. It wasn’t until he felt a sharp, painful ache in his belly that he doubled over, clutching his stomach and crying out in agony.

“I heard people say they wanted to eat their fill,” he wailed. “But being full isn’t such a great thing! I never want to eat my fill again! Never again!”

Yan Huan watched the spectacle. What had seemed dull and laughable at first, now made him stop short when he heard the beggar’s childish words. He suddenly felt a strange sense of similarity between himself and that little beggar.